Page 35 of Just One: Box Set

Chapter Nine

I t had been almost four months since Phillip took a massive blow to his leg, taking him out of the game he loved—and a little over a month since he left her house.

If she was counting, it had been two months since they’d slept together…

and she could still feel him everywhere.

Her siblings—and his, spent Thanksgiving and Christmas trying to convince her to call him.

Amy had to admit she was disappointed he hadn’t come to either family gathering, but she understood.

At first, he sent her flowers several times a week.

Those eventually slowed, then stopped. And now, he hadn’t so much as asked how she was through his brother.

Amy stood, stretching her body as she made her way out of the employee lounge.

Looking at her watch, she noted Phillip would arrive in about fifteen minutes.

Her stomach rolled slightly, causing her to place her hand on her abdomen.

This was the last thing she needed today.

“Hey, Amy.” Adam, one of her fellow therapists, greeted her in the hallway. “You got one coming in?”

“Yeah, in about fifteen.” Amy nodded her head as she was hit with a sudden wave of nausea.

“You alright?” Adam reached out and pressed his palm to her shoulder. “You look a little green.”

She couldn’t respond because the queasy feeling had turned to something more. Amy bolted away from him, nearly knocking Phillip down as he stepped through the front doors.

“Amy?” He stared after her. “She ok?” Phillip glanced over at Adam, the other therapist he’d gotten to know since coming in for his sessions.

“I don’t know, man. One minute she was talking… the next she was a pretty shade of green.”

Phillip turned on his heel and headed in the bathroom direction. He was about to push through the door, but Amy stepped out.

“Phillip. Sorry about that. Shall we get started?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Are you well enough to do this? We can reschedule if you’re sick.”

Amy gave him a weird look, but she shook it off quickly. “No. I’m good. I think lunch didn’t agree with me. Come on, let's go so I don’t get behind with patients.”

Phillip followed behind her, still doubting her excuse, but kept it to himself. “Amy.” He grabbed her arm, halting her in place. “If you're sick, this can wait, seriously.”

“No… it can’t. Dr. Spencer and your coach are meeting us here to give you an assessment. I doubt you want to wait any longer to get your life back—you’ve already missed most of the pre-season.”

She pushed past him, storming toward the exercise room, leaving him no choice but to follow. “How do you know what I want? You haven’t spoken to me outside of therapy, Amy. I get I fucked up with you—but damn. I thought we were friends.”

Amy spun on him, pressing her finger into his chest. “Don’t. You know why I can’t be your friend.”

“You haven’t talked to me since you kicked me out of your house. Was what we did so bad that you had to shut me down completely?”

She hadn’t wanted to shut him out. But after…

well—it was the only way. It had taken every ounce of her strength to keep him at arm’s length…

but now. She was on the verge of cracking.

Her nerves had gotten the better of her today, making her look weak.

When she didn’t answer him, Amy watched as he pushed around her and got on the treadmill to warm up.

She knew he would play soccer again… his leg had defied the odds and was as strong now as it was before the injury.

The coach and Brian would be able to tell he was ready.

As if she’d conjured them up with her thoughts, the Coach of Atlanta Force and Dr. Spencer walked into the fitness area. “How is he?”

Coach Huckaby was an older man, but he was just as fit as his players. His graying hair did nothing to deter his good looks. Amy smiled at him. “Great. He’ll be ready to play next season, sir.”

“Do you agree?” Coach Huckaby turned to look at Dr. Spencer.

Brian, Dr. Spencer, glanced at Amy briefly. “Yeah. His bone looks good, and as long as he continues the regimen he’s been following… then I don’t believe there will be any problems. Amy, can you get and stretch him out—the move into the strength exercises?”

She nodded, moving toward the center of the room. “Phillip.” Amy called out to him, causing him to stop the machine.

Phillip tossed his hand up in a wave at his coach and Dr. Spencer before joining her on the floor. “What do I need to do?” He kept his tone steady as he watched her.

“Lie down on your back. I’m going to hyper-extend your leg. And then move on to some other stress tests. Don’t worry—you’ll do great.”

Amy manipulated his leg in various moves, demonstrating perfectly how well his leg had healed.

Once she had him stretched out, Phillip moved into several exercises that would highlight his strength.

He did lateral band walks, lateral hurdle spins, box squats, and finally planks.

Coach and Dr. Spencer watched with rapt attention, smiles etching both men’s faces.

Coach pulled out a soccer trainer. It was a soccer ball attached to a long stretchy cord that fastened to the upper thigh. “Is there enough room in here for him to show me some kicks?”

“I think we can make it work.” Amy grabbed the contraption and walked it over to Phillip. “Here… the last hurdle to jump.”

She stepped back, watching as he strapped it to his leg.

Phillip began alternating between kicking the ball and dribbling it.

His injured leg would be the one he would need to rely on to bear weight whenever he took a shot at the ball.

He drew closer, closing the space between them as he continued with his tricks.

Nausea began bubbling in her chest, and the room swayed.

Just as Phillip hopped on his foot, showing off one of many foot skills he had, Amy careened forward, the ball smacking her in the face just before she hit the mat.

“Amy… fuck.” Phillip shouted, the ball dragging behind him as he moved to the ground beside her. She was completely out, face down on the semi-cushioned floor. Rolling her over, Phillip tugged her into his lap and pressed his hand to her cheek. “Come on, baby. Wake up.”

“Let me look at her.” Dr. Spencer dropped beside them and reached out to touch her, but Phillip turned away from him, pulling Amy out of his grasp. “I fucking knew it.”

“You aren’t touching her.”

Amy stirred in his lap, her eyes slowly opening. “Phillip?” She blinked, glancing between the three men looming over her. “What happened?”

“You passed out and then the soccer ball hit you in the face. Do you feel you’re going to throw up? Maybe we should call an ambulance.” He looked over at Coach Huckaby, who was smiling like the Cheshire cat. “Why the hell are you smiling?”

“Phillip, why am I in your lap?”

“I’d like to know the same thing.” Brian Spencer glared at the two of them with a bitter expression.

“I don’t need an ambulance.” Amy pushed out of his hold and to her feet. “It’s fine… I’m fine.”

Phillip jumped up and grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at him. “You fucking passed out. Not to mention you got sick earlier. What the hell is going on, Amy?”

Dr. Spencer inhaled sharply, the sound making Amy jerk her eyes to meet his cold and calculating ones. “You slut!” He spat at her. “You are fucking him… I knew it! I’ll report you to the licensing board.”

Amy pressed her hand to her head. This is exactly what she didn’t need. “Brian… please—let’s not get too hasty.”

“What the hell is going on in here?” Mike, Amy’s boss, stepped into the room. “We can hear you yelling down the hallway.”

Dr. Spencer started toward him, shaking his finger at Amy. “She slept with a client. Fire her!’”

Mike looked over at Amy. “Amy?”

“Wait.” Phillip interrupted. “This fucker has had it out for us since day one. How does her passing out and getting sick imply we’ve slept together? You can’t stand that she doesn’t want you anymore.”

“Is that true, Spencer?” Mike glanced over at Amy, who was standing with clenched fists and her eyes closed. “Amy, sweetheart?”

“Tell the Amy.” Brian Spencer growled.

“Brian…” Tears trailed down her face as she pleaded with him.

“Tell them right now or I’ll do it.”

“Tell us what?” Phillip bellowed. “Amy, what the hell is going on?”

“I’m so sorry, Mike.” Amy’s lips turned down in a frown. She was doing everything she could to not lose it in front of them. Slowly she turned, her eyes locking onto Phillips. “Phillip… this isn’t—I…” she hiccupped a sob.

Phillip stepped closer, his palm cradling her cheek. “Amy… sweetheart, what is it?”

“I was going to tell you. I swear.”

Phillip thumbed a tear off her skin. “Tell me what?”