AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I regarded the sharp furrow of my brow and firm line of my lips, a naturally dominant expression that used to arouse Laila but now made her think I was too stern, too out of touch. The girls at the club had never complained, and yet I began to wonder if I really had lost my puckish charm.
My face clearly hadn’t aged as much as my personality, that was obvious, but what was the point of a handsome, approachable face if my demeanor didn’t match?
When I was younger, I might’ve made an effort to reflect on this discovery, but now that my desire for meaningless hookups had diminished, I didn’t see why I should change. After all, wasn’t there a certain allure in being distinguished, in being a man with defined tastes who could take charge of a situation? Thatwaswhat had drawn Laila to me in the first place and now here I was, contemplating its worth.
Still, the longer I sat on our couch, the more my thoughts began to drift to what that gruffness had brought me in life. I would be divorced soon and spent most of my days either at the office or drifting around the dwelling I still shared with my future ex-wife. Of course my friends didn’t mind my terseness, especially since they also saw my amiable side, but once Laila was gone, I knew I would feel the need to find a new person to share my life with.
Had I lost my touch? My eyes drifted shut as I tried to imagine who my perfect woman would be and how I would approach her. Someone who was patient was a necessity—I wasn’t so far gone that I was unaware of my stubbornness—and she’d have to be well established in her own career so that I wouldn’t feel like her benefactor. It went without saying that the woman of my dreams would be beautiful, but as I daydreamed, her face began to materialize behind my closed eyelids.
Red hair, like the burning embers of a lit fire. Green eyes, like fresh spring grasses. An easy, kind smile that hid a wicked tongue…
I was rudely interrupted by the chiming alarm on my phone which let me know it was time to leave. With a heaving sigh, I rose from the couch, shaking my head at the foolishness I’d just participated in. I’d had my once-in-a-lifetime chance with Laila and blown it.
And my fantasies were nothing more than the dying hopes of a man who had forgotten what love felt like.
Chapter Two
Amelia
“Iknowithurts,just breathe through the stretch,” I advised, both hands placed firmly on my patient’s lower back as he leaned forward. Letting out a grunt, my client then released a shaky breath as we worked to get his muscles to cooperate.
“You’re doing a great job, Leon.” I smiled while removing one hand to swipe my auburn hair behind my ear again. “Give it just another thirty seconds and we can be done for the day.”
“Thank god,” Leon laughed dryly through the pain. “I was beginning to think you were going to torture me all day.”
Smirking, I teased, “no, I usually only ‘torture’ my patients for an hour or so. Anything more is beyond my pay grade.” The older man snickered and gingerly got on his feet again when I pulled my hands away. “Feels better, doesn’t it?” I asked with a grin.
He did a couple of gentle trunk twists and shook his head disbelievingly. “You’ve got magic in those hands, Amelia,” Leon admitted, his tone playful. “Can you come to my house and do that every morning?”
We both knew he wasn’t serious, but I still answered with the same response I gave all my clients who asked for at-home treatments. “Now, Leon, you know I’m only a physical therapist within the walls of this building. If I made house calls, I’d have to take that door with my name on it everywhere I went and that would makemeneed physical therapy.”
Leon shrugged good-naturedly. “It was worth a shot. See you same time next week?”
“You can count on it,” I answered, writing down a few notes on my clipboard. “Make sure to do those stretches I showed you, okay?” With a nod, Leon stepped out of my office and I glanced up at the clock, noticing that it was time for my lunch break.
Peeking my head out from my room, I made eye contact with our secretary and softly alerted her that I was going to take my fifteen minutes. Before retreating, I took a glance at the black lettering on the glass pane in the door which spelled out my name clearly—Amelia Roberts, PT.
Pride stirred within me as it always did whenever I caught sight of my name and occupation laid out so professionally. At only twenty-five, I was on my way to becoming one of the most successful women in my field and I wasn’t going to let anything or anyone stand in my way.
My sister had been my original inspiration. Because she was two years older than me, Natalie was able to navigate the world of physical therapy right before I did, which allowed her to give me relevant advice. I remembered seeing the strength in her shoulders and arms as she worked on a patient, murmuring reassurances as she soothed their aches and pains.
I’d always wanted to have a job where I helped people and had become fascinated by the human body’s movements while playing on my high school’s volleyball team. And when Natalie had declared her internal physiology major in college, she’d urged me to do the same and I had—only with a kinesiology degree instead.
We’d shared the desire to relieve our clients’ suffering through understanding their bodily machinations and Natalie had been fundamental in recommending me for the job I currently held at Body, Heart & Mind Clinic. She had interned there right after graduation and became friends with my boss, Dr. Santiago Morales, who was more than happy to hire someone who was a valedictorian at both her high school and college like me.
I’d thanked Natalie up and down for introducing us and ever the bashful girl, she had deflected the praise. “You did most of it yourself, Ames. All I did was help you get that first handshake.”
From then on we’d been inseparable, always working the same shifts at Dr. Morales’s clinic and filling each other in on the latest gossip. One day, a few months into our employ, Natalie had come rushing into my office with the biggest grin on her face and declared, “Benjamin just asked me on a date!”
Benjamin Strong had been one of Natalie’s patients, and it seemed that the second their relationship was no longer professional he had taken the opportunity to express interest in one of the best women I ever knew. I’d been overjoyed for them both and nearly cried the day I walked Natalie down the aisle to him, knowing that our parents would have loved to have seen her like this. She’d looked radiant, her strawberry-blonde hair curled and styled to perfection, her hazel eyes shining with happy tears, and wearing the softest, white silk dress.
I had stood proudly beside her as the maid of honor in a sage-green dress and watched the truest expression of devotion I’d seen since the passing of our parents. Afterward, while they danced, I’d wished silently, longingly, to have a man of my own.
But he never came. Not the day after the wedding or even in the two years since the ceremony.
Now, at twenty-five, although I knew I was still too young to give up, my hope was waning. Boys my age were just that—boys who expected a woman to step and fetch after them like their mothers had while they spent all day at a dead-end job. I’d been on date after date with these kinds of guys and I’d been unimpressed every single time; it was all false promises and lackluster demands for blow jobs.
Based on the current dating pool, I was close to resigning myself to a life of solitude, at least for the time being, and wondering if my fate would change in the foreseeable future, wondering if I’d ever meet a man who would show me whatrealmen were like.
