Page 10 of What About Us

CHAPTER THREE

XANDER

The therapist will be here in twenty minutes to get started on my PT. I don’t have any idea who it is because, as predicted, the team took care of it. As long as we can get along and I can trust them in my house, I don’t really care who it is.

I’ve just finished eating and put the dishes in the dishwasher when I pull my phone out and call Cassie, a personal chef based out of Silver Springs that I’ve known for a while. She usually cooks for me when I’m home in the summers because I have to eat extremely high protein, and I don’t want to choke down forty chicken breasts a day.

“Hey, Xander,” she says in greeting. “How’s it going?”

“Better now that I’m home for a while. I hope you have time in your schedule to bring me on as a full-time client for the next, oh, year or so.”

I can hear the stunned silence on the other end of the line.

“For the next year?”

“Okay, probably closer to nine months. I’m home with an injury. No playing for me until I’m healed up.”

“Well, that sucks. Do you want the usual? Mostly dinners and snacks, high protein, low carb, no sugar?”

“Yep, that’s awesome.” And by awesome, I mean boring. But it fucking works like a charm.

“I can do that. I’ll do some shopping today and have some meals in your fridge by tomorrow afternoon.”

“You’re a fucking goddess, Cass.”

“Oh, trust me. I know. See you later.”

I can hear her laughing as she hangs up, and it makes me grin.

The doorbell rings and I check the time. They’re five minutes early, which I appreciate, and I walk easily to the door.

Today’s a good day on the knee. There’s no pain and I’m walking normally.

I open the door and feel surprise move through me and then awareness.

“Ivy.”

The petite woman with the curves for days, long red hair, and freckles that just beg for my thumb to brush over them smiles up at me.

“Hey, Xander,” she says.

I’ve felt like an asshole for the past several months. I was home between games and out with my family, playing pool at Lucky’s, and I didn’t recognize Ivy, even though everyone told me that I went to school with her.

I still don’t remember that. Apparently, I’ve known this gorgeous creature my entire life, but I have no recollection at all.

And it fucking pisses me off.

But I could see the hurt in her pretty eyes when I addressed her by the wrong name, and I felt like a complete douchebag. She accepted my apology, but I still feel like shit.

Goddamn memory.

“Come on in,” I tell her, moving back so she can step inside. “Please tell me you’re my physical therapist.”

“I’m your physical therapist,” she confirms and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes are on me as I walk across the room, but not in a flirty way. No, this woman is analyzing me. “No limp that I can see.”

“Not today,” I confirm. “But when I’m tired, there’s a small one.”

“Hmm.” She nods thoughtfully and bites her lower lip.