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“You know what? It’s almost time for today anyway. We’re done. Maybe you should ask a different therapist to take over from here on out.”
I don’t have time to reply before she spins on her heels and rushes out of the room.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath and push a hand through my hair.
Not a minute passes before I realize that once again, I need to apologize to Shayna. I let loose my frustration on her and she didn’t deserve it. She’s only been a help, not a hindrance.
I’ll give her some time to cool off, then figure out how to apologize for being an asshole—again.
Jesus, I haven’t been this nervous since I was a teenager about to lose my virginity.
I stand on the other side of Shayna’s apartment door with a peace offering in hand. I’m not really sure how she’ll react to my apology, or to my showing up at her apartment. After a deep breath, I knock on the door. I wait, shifting in place until I hear someone behind the door and it whips open.
Shayna stands there wearing a matching blue-and-white-striped shorts-and-tank pajama set, bare feet, some kind of fuzzy headband thing, and a bright-pink face mask all over her face. “What are you doing here?”
Man, her nipples are poking out of the thin fabric of her tank top, and her shorts show off her long legs that look so good wrapped around me. “Um… hey. I brought you something.” I hold out the hand that’s balancing my peace offering.
She takes it. “What is it?”
“The best cheesecake in the world. It’s from my favorite bakery downtown.”
Shayna gives me the once-over. “I’m surprised you even have a favorite bakery.”
I pat my stomach. “I only visit in the off-season, but it’s worth it every time I do.”
“You still haven’t said what you’re doing here.” I open my mouth to answer, but before I can, she says, “Wait a minute… how did you find out where I live?”
I cringe and push a hand through my hair. “I may have sweet-talked one of the HR girls into giving your address to me.” I raise both hands. “I know, but in her defense, I told her it was so I could have a thank-you gift delivered since you’ve helped me so much with my recovery.”
Shayna rolls her eyes and blows out a breath. I kind of like the way she’s not self-conscious with the face mask on. It means she is comfortable around me. “What do you want, Lee?”
I push my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. “To apologize—again. I was a total dick. I took out my frustration on you, and you didn’t deserve that. You’ve only been helping me every way you can. I shouldn’t have said those things I did, and I’m sorry.”
The sound of a cell phone ringing comes from inside her apartment. She looks at me and then behind her.
“Go. I’ll wait.”
She hesitates, then steps back and opens the door wider. “Just come in.”
I follow her inside and close the door. Her apartment’s living area is fairly small, with a couch, a chair, and a TV stand. I assume the kitchen must be off to the right because I see some tile flooring, and the bathroom or bedroom must be the door at the end of the short hallway.
It might be small, but it’s neat and tidy and decorated in a variety of soft colors—mostly ivory, peach, and yellow. It’s definitely a girl’s apartment.
I’m trying not to eavesdrop, but it’s hard when Shayna is five feet away and I’m the only other person here. I gather it’s her aunt she’s talking to, but she only carries on the conversation for a minute before she asks if she can return her call later.
“Sorry about that.” She sets her phone on her coffee table. “Have a seat.” She motions to the sofa, and I sit on the one end.
She sits in the chair. “Listen, I appreciate the apology, Lee, I do. And I understand how frustrating this entire process must be for you.”
I flop back against the couch cushion. “I have a contract to negotiate at the end of the season. You know as well as I do that damaged goods means you have less pull, which means teams see you as worthless, which means less money and fewer guaranteed years.”
Her lips press into a thin line, and she tilts her head. “I’m sure you’ll still get a lot of money. This wasn’t a major injury. Had it been a season-ending injury, it would have been different.”
I’m shaking my head before she’s even done speaking. “It’s not so much about the money as I want to stay here in San Francisco next year. I like the life I’ve built here. I love the city and I like my teammates—I think we have a real shot at winning it all over the next few years if we stay the course. The last thing I want is to go play somewhere else and have to start over. The sooner I can get back on the field and prove myself, the better.”
Her features soften. “The Kingsmen would be crazy to get rid of you. You’re their star player.”
I shrug. “Yeah, but everyone’s star burns out at some point. What if the Kingsmen think this is my first of many injuries to come? What if they want to get rid of me so that they have a budget to grab the new up-and-comers?”
