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Athletes were the biggest babies on the freakin’ planet.
The company that I worked for was contracted by the NBA, assigned to the West Corral Devils in Texas. After graduation, I’d worked for a few minor league teams in the NBA G, and even a couple of WMBA teams. However, last year, I’d been requested by the Devils after an article about my father had been published, and the pay had been too good to pass up.
So, unlike my sister, Ashley, I worked in sports medicine, primarily in physical therapy. Ashely’s husband, Martin Oskar, worked in medicinal sports therapy, and he was the doctor that bandaged up players after an injury, then sent them back onto the court, field, or wherever. Martin was a gifted doctor, and Ashley was allowed to stay at home, be happily pregnant, and let Martin wait on her hand and foot, which he did. There was no doubt that my brother-in-law loved my sister dearly.
We were also twins. We had the same walnut-colored brown hair, the same light blue eyes, the same freckles scattered across our cheeks, and we were both exactly five-foot-three. Though we also had the exact same face and figure, Ashley wore her hair short and loved the curl to it. I wore mine longer and appreciated it when it was straight and manageable.
Unfortunately, Ashley and Martin didn’t live in West Corral like me and my parents. Since Martin was such a sought-out sports doctor, Martin had been offered the sun and the moon to go work in England for actual rugby players. It still blew my mind that they lived so far away, but they were both happy, and I was happy for them. Yeah, it was going to be tough to be away from them once the baby came, but that’s what airplanes were for. Luckily, I could afford a couple of flights a year to go see them.
I was also fortunate enough to have Harley Kepler in my life. He was my best friend, having met him when I’d started working for Coltrane Therapy. Harley was also a physical therapist, though he worked with regular folks because he couldn’t stand prima donnas-his words, not mine. He claimed that he didn’t have the kind of bedside manner that would allow another man to talk down to him. While I wouldn’t call Harley an alpha, he wasn’t a punk, either. He had that quiet masculinity thing going for him, and the women ate it up.
Harley was six-foot-one, had dark chocolate-colored hair and matching eyes, was very in shape, and looked like he knew what he was doing in the bedroom, though I didn’t know that for sure. Right upon meeting Harley, it’d been clear that we’d been destined to be friends only. Nevertheless, even though he gave me big-brother vibes, my eyes still worked, and Harley Kepler was hot. He was also very single because the dude really had little patience for drama.
So, all in all, I had a good life. It’d had more blessings than hardships, and I really shouldn’t complain. I’d even had a few decent relationships after that shitshow in college, and though things hadn’t worked out, I’d been happy for a time. I also wasn’t against casual dating, so my single status really was something that I owned.
Now, granted, it wasn’t always easy to know which offers of a date were serious and which ones weren’t, but I was a long way away from that fresh-faced girl that had once believed in a one-true-love. Once upon a time, I believed in high school sweethearts, college sweethearts, and all that. I used to believe that you could fall in love at fifteen and end up celebrating a sixtieth wedding anniversary later down the line. I used to believe that it was possible to know only one partner in life.
Yeah, not anymore.
That nonsensical romantic streak died a long time ago, and I dated with more realistic expectations these days. Now, that wasn’t to say that I was a man-hater, because I wasn’t. I knew good men, my father, brother-in-law, and best friend among them. I had guy friends that were decent and knew how to treat people well, and not just women. There were a lot of nice guys out there, whether I was attracted to them or not, and I could acknowledge that. Not every guy was out to break your heart or get over on you.
Nonetheless, while I’d gotten over the heartache of my first real broken heart, I wasn’t sure if I’d gotten over the stupidity part of it. If I let myself think on it too hard, my naivety during that time in my life always made me feel stupider than the average idiot. I’d seen the writing on the wall, I’d had the red flags flapping at my face, and I had even identified the lies for what they’d been, but I had still chosen to be stupid and in love, rather than smart and heartbroken. Oh, the heartbreak had eventually made an appearance, but not without a huge side dish of idiocy.
At any rate, even though I wasn’t in a serious relationship right now, I was okay with that. Despite how I’d rooted for love most of my life, I’d never been one of those females that hadn’t been able to see past the stigma of being single. For the most part, I enjoyed being single, and that was probably my biggest problem when it came to men asking me out.
Who needed the headache?
“Cole Kalarmero is coming in tomorrow morning, and I need you on him.”
I looked up to see my supervisor, Vany Imacca, staring at me through the doorway of my office. While they weren’t much, each physical therapist had their own office in the building, but that was mostly to protect the privacy of our patients. We kept files on everyone that we worked with, so confidentiality was a big thing here. Especially, considering that we were dealing with professional athletes.
“For what?” I asked.
“Shoulder,” she answered. “He’s being a baby about getting an MRI because he thinks it’s a bad omen or something.”
I chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “Athletes are a suspicious lot.”
“I get the pressure and everything, but if the aspirin isn’t working, then it’s probably something a little more serious,” she complained sarcastically.
“I’ll try to talk to him and see where his mind is,” I promised. “Just don’t get your hopes up too high. I’ve never worked with him before.”
“He’s a sweetheart, but just…set in his ways.”
“Aren’t they all?” I snorted.
“You got me there,” she grinned before heading back to wherever she had come from.
I immediately pulled up Cole Kalarmero’s last five games on my computer, then watched him to look for signs of anything obvious. Now, since basketball wasn’t my favorite sport, I often found my eyes crossing when looking at footage of games. Now, were it football, I’d be all over it. American football was my favorite sport to watch, and even though my team sucked this year, I’d still rather watch football than any other sport.
Three hours later, I recognized the stiffness in Mr. Kalarmero’s game, and thank God. My eyes had started to cross two hours ago.
Chapter 3
Orion~
“Just wanted to wish you luck,” I said into the phone, the excitement contagious.
“Thanks, man,” Raven replied.
