Page 17

Chapter seventeen

Rebecca

I scowl at the time displayed on my computer. How is it only a little after one? I feel as though I’ve been at work for an eternity already today.

My bad mood is not at all due to what happened last night.

Nope.

Not at all.

It was for the best that Hazel woke up and interrupted us, and then Hadley came home.

Otherwise, I don’t know what would have happened.

Just thinking about it makes my face heat.

I put my fingers to my lips, remembering our kisses.

The way it felt to be in his lap. His touch.

His mouth against mine. I clench my thighs together.

Nope. I have to stop thinking about it. He is still my patient.

I open my top desk drawer with a little more force than necessary, and reach for the bag of sour gummy worms I keep stashed there. Except it’s empty.

“Great.” I toss the bag into my trash can.

With an exasperated sigh, I set my elbows on my desk and drop my head into my hands.

Pull your shit together.

“You alright, Doc?”

Holt’s voice sends a shiver through me. It’s as if my thinking about him conjured him out of thin air. I sit up straight, frowning at the way my body lights up at the sight of him, leaning against the doorframe of my office.

“Fine, just busy. Did you need something?”

He uncrosses his arms, and steps into my office, closing the door behind him.

“We have an appointment.”

He stalks over to my desk and folds himself into the chair across from me.

I hum in agreement, ignoring how my body responds to his proximity, and shuffle the papers on my desk, trying to distract myself. I can’t believe I forgot I was going to see him today.

“Yep. That’s right.” I bob my head a little too vigorously.

“I think we should talk about last night,” Holt says.

I stare down at the desk, afraid to look up at him, afraid I’ll see regret for what we did. The line we crossed.

“Becca,” he says softly.

I hear him shift, and his body heat radiates around me as he leans over my desk. He runs a hand down my face and, as hard as I try, I can’t help but lean into his touch. He tips my chin up so I’m forced to meet his gaze.

“What’s going through your head?”

I peer into his sapphire eyes, realizing in this light, they have different shades of blue in them.

“Becca,” he repeats.

I snap out of my haze and pull away from him. He lets me go, sinking back in his seat and dropping his hands to his lap.

“Nothing. Sorry, I-I didn’t sleep well last night.” My voice comes out gruff.

I need to be professional. I already slipped and crossed the line once.

I cannot do it again. I’ll chalk last night up to the ambiance—being in the dark, pressed up against him, watching a movie.

Today, if we cross the line again in my brightly lit office, I’ll have nothing to blame it on but my own stupid hormones.

“Let’s get started.” Standing, I gesture for him to follow me .

He’s silent for a few seconds before giving me a curt nod and getting up. I exhale a sigh of relief, grateful he’s dropping the subject that easily. I lead us out of my office and down the hall to the treatment room.

Pushing the door open, I flip on the light, Holt trailing behind me.

I pat the padded exam table. “Lie down on your stomach, please. Let’s see how your hip is doing.”

He complies, and I take a second to pull myself together before walking over to the right side of the table. “Bend your knee for me.”

He does as I ask, and I grip his ankle. “I’m going to work on your hip, and glute, okay?”

“Fine,” he mumbles.

My hand trembles as I push down on his hip, and I use my other hand to slowly move his leg back and forth.

I press along his hip, and the top of his glute, while running through the stretches we’ve been doing for the past few weeks.

He’s just another patient. A player I’m treating.

I repeat those two sentences over and over to myself as I work.

“Any pain?” I ask, making a mental note that the tightness I’d noticed before is all but gone, which means the treatment is working.

“Nope,” he mutters against the table.

“Good.” I let go of his leg. “Roll onto your back, please.”

He does as I ask, and focuses his gaze on the ceiling, bending his leg at a ninety-degree angle the way I always instruct him to do at this point in the session.

I wrap one arm around his leg and push against his hip flexor, ignoring the hitch in his breath and the way his eyes flicker to me for a second when I touch him.

I force myself to stare at the wall and not down at the man lying on my table.

The man I kissed last night. Whose lap I sat on while doing said kissing.

At this moment, I hate past Rebecca. Before today, I could have gone through this session no big deal.

Yes, I’d seen Holt shirtless, seen him holding his daughter, seen him as an attractive man.

But I could still shut those memories and thoughts out.

We hadn’t crossed the line. Even though I’d spent time in his apartment, it was all harmless.

I could do my job. Keep separate the Holt I know as a friend, and the Holt I know as a patient.

Last night we crossed the line, and everything between us is now blurry. I know what it feels like to be wrapped in his arms. Hear him moan. Feel his very hard dick rubbing against me.

Do not think about his dick, Rebecca. Don’t do it.

“You okay, Doc?” Holt asks.

I blink, dragging myself out of my thoughts, and meet his gaze. “Fine. Sorry. I was making a mental note for myself.”

He smirks at me, and it makes him even more sexy, and me, even more screwed.

“Stop it,” I hiss with a shake of my head. “Doctor. Patient,” I remind him.

He drops his head back onto the table, muttering something I can’t hear, and I focus on the rest of our session. As we’re wrapping up, Dr. Walt pops into the room.

“Hey Holt, Dr. Jansen,” he greets us. “How’s it going?” He shoves his hands in his trouser pockets and turns to face me.

“I am considering you fully healed and ready to go,” I tell Holt, and he breaks into a huge grin. “I want you to continue doing the extra stretches you’ve been doing. But there’s no need for us to have more sessions unless you have pain again.”

“Doc, that’s great,” Holt says.

“I’ll let the coaching staff know.” I frown. “Although you’re still on your leave of absence, right?”

He rocks back on his heels. “Yeah. I’m going to go talk to Coach about ending it, though. I feel like I’ve got everything figured out, and with my sister here, I’m ready to play again. The guys need me.”

I open my mouth to ask him if he’s sure, but Dr. Walt speaks first. “If you think you’re ready, from a medical perspective, I don’t object. Do you, Dr. Jansen?”

They both look at me, and as much as I want to protest that maybe Holt should take more time off to get used to being a dad, that’s not the question Dr. Walt asked.

“No. I don’t,” I finally answer .

“Great. I’ll see you both around,” Dr. Walt says, turning and walking out of the room.

“Thank you,” Holt says quietly when we’re alone.

“Just doing my job.” I give him a small smile before going around him to wipe down the treatment table.

“Becca,” Holt murmurs, and I stiffen when I feel his heat at my back. I inhale trying to calm my racing heart, which is a bad idea because now all I smell is him. “About last night. . .”

“Holt, we can’t. Let’s chalk last night up to us getting caught in the moment. It was dark. It was late. We were sitting close to each other. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“Please look at me.”

“I have another appointment soon.” I step around him and head for the door, except he’s faster than I am and gets to it first. He turns to face me, his arms crossed.

“Becca, please.”

“What, Holt?”

“Can we at least talk about the kiss?”

“It was a mistake. You were still my patient. I shouldn’t have.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. “I know you’re not my patient anymore, but that doesn’t change anything.” The last part comes out in a whisper.

His face crumbles, and his shoulders drop for a second before he inhales and seems to pull himself together. “I understand. Bye, Dr. Jansen.” He turns and walks out the door without a backward glance.

I tip my head back, staring at the ceiling, wishing things were different for me. That I didn’t have such bad luck when it came to people I care about, people I love. It’s safer for everyone if Holt and I are just friends. Even if it does make me feel awful, and like a jerk.

Pulling myself together, I walk out of the treatment room and back to my office.

There’s a soft knock on my door frame as I’m getting ready to head home on Friday afternoon, the week after I cleared Holt to play again.

“Come in.” I look up, hoping it’s Holt, but it’s not.

I haven’t seen him since our last session.

Not around the arena, and not in our apartment building either.

I’ve seen Hadley a few times, and she told me he’s been working extra hard with the goalie coach to get ready to go back to playing soon.

As much as I acted like it was for the best that we remain just coworkers, I hate it.

I hate the way we left things. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him, or the kiss we shared, all week.

But that’s all I let myself do—think about our one kiss, and maybe daydream about what it could have been like between us. Since that’s all it’ll ever be—a dream.

“Question for you, Doc.” Wes walks into my office, his hands in his pockets.

“Not sure I have the answer, but I can try.” I point at the chair on the other side of my desk, and he takes a seat.

“Any idea why the big guy is grumpy again?”

“Big guy?”

He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Holt. He seemed . . .” He pauses, chewing on his bottom lip. “Less grumpy for a little while, but now he’s back to his moody ways. I thought we’d moved past it now that everything is out in the open. But I guess not.”

“I have no idea. Have you tried asking him?”

He lets out a bark of laughter, shifting in his seat. “I have. But he won’t say anything. I even asked Hadley, but she didn’t know either.” He frowns. “It started around the time he finished seeing you.” I narrow my eyes, wondering what he’s getting at. “You know, for treatments and all.”

“Sorry I can’t help you. I’m sure he’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

He leans forward, planting his hands on my desk, and glances around before whispering, “Did something happen between you two?”

I stare at him, unsure of how to answer his question.

Unsure of what he knows. I don’t know how much these guys share with each other.

Does Wes know Holt and I kissed? Shit, do the other guys?

This is why I don’t date coworkers, especially coworkers who are more like family, and are all up in each other’s business.

“Ah-ha.” He points at me.

“W-what?” I ask, glancing around.

“You do know something.”

I shake my head. “No. No, I don’t. I’m as in the dark as you are. I haven’t seen him around recently.”

“Then why did you blush just now?” He cocks his head, studying me. “Something did happen, didn’t it?”

I roll my eyes, hoping I’m not still blushing. “Nothing happened. I brought over dinner a few weeks ago. I was being neighborly . . .”

He scoffs. “Yeah, sure. Neighborly .” He sighs, standing up. “For what it’s worth, Doc, I think you two would be good together. In fact, I know you would.”

“Not sure how you know that, but Holt and I are . . . coworkers and neighbors. That’s it.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He raps his knuckles on my desk twice before walking out of my office, leaving me to make sense of his words.

Maybe if the circumstances were different, we could date.

If we weren’t coworkers, it wouldn’t be so bad.

We could keep it casual. I’ve dated guys before and nothing bad happened to them.

I’m not against dating. But what I am against is falling in love, and a part of me fears that might happen if I get too close to Holt.

I refuse to be the reason why something bad happens to him, or his daughter.

So I won’t date him. I can’t. That’s the only way I can make sure I don’t fall in love with him.

I get to my feet and grab my purse, heading out of my office to run errands. I try to push aside all thoughts of the grumpy goalie, but Wes’s words that we’d be good together, echo in my head the entire evening.

Holt and I would be good together.

If only things were different.