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“Thanks, Jayce. Catch you later.”
I disconnected and steeled myself to check in with my other physicians. It was probably time for me to face reality.
But maybe not quite yet…
Chapter Six
TAMRYN
Five days. He’d been home and ignoring my calls and texts for five damn days and I was over it. Holden Cramer didn’t get to hide away from the world and let himself wither away. Not on my watch. I checked my phone for the thousandth time, saw that there were no new calls or texts, and decided to take matters into my own hands.
“All right, Mr. Cramer. You wanna play dirty, I can play dirty. I know where you live.” I grabbed my keys from the bowl by my front door and headed out. The pale blue of my Wrangler reminded me of the color of Holden’s eyes and I frowned, wondering where that thought had come from.
Once on the highway, I called Tate via Bluetooth to check in. He answered almost immediately. “Hey, Tamryn. How’s your day off?”
I laughed. “Day off. You and I both know that we don’t take days off. And it would be going a whole hell of a lot better if our stubborn quarterback would answer his damn phone. Have you heard from him?”
I heard Tate shuffling something on the other end of the line. “No, Tam. I haven’t. He isn’t answering my messages either. I know he hates talking on the phone, so I thought I’d give texting a shot, but it’s been radio silent.”
“Well, at least I know it isn’t just me. I was starting to get a complex. It’s been complete crickets. I’ve actually had it, though. I’m on my way over to his house now.”
Tate laughed—one I knew was genuine. “I knew we picked the right person for the job. Give him hell, Tam. Just be gentle, too. I can’t imagine what this must be like for him. The last play of the game before entering into possibly the two biggest games of his career, the ones he hoped to use to tie up an amazing legacy with a bright and shiny bow before he walked off into the sunset—assuming he won. And now… Yeah.”
I felt tears pricking the backs of my eyes, but added some steel to my voice. “I know. But he doesn’t get to give up. That isn’t how this is gonna go.”
“I said it before, and I’ll say it again. Best. Choice. Ever.” I heard a sliding glass door closing and then the sound of birds. “Will you keep me posted?” I could hear the concern in Tate’s voice.
“Of course, I will. Absolutely. Just send up a prayer that I can actually get into his house. After today, you’d better believe I will have his housekeeper’s number on speed dial. I spoke with the woman at the hospital last Thursday when they discharged Holden. And I say this in the best way possible, she’s not somebody I’d want to mess with.”
Tate laughed. “You aren’t wrong there. Mrs. Reyes is a peach. And she definitely doesn’t take Holden’s shit. I would be willing to bet she’d be happy to help you beat his ass.”
I wanted to laugh, but then my mind wandered to thoughts of that tight backside. I mentally shook my head. “Absolutely. All right, I’m getting off the highway. Wish me luck.”
“All the luck, Tamryn. You’re going to need it.”
I tapped the screen on the Jeep and exited on my way toward the harbor.
I made good time and parked on the curve of the driveway outside of Holden’s house, glancing at the dwelling. It was very…him. Crisp, clean lines, and lots of glass but with privacy films. Big, but not overwhelming. Perfectly manicured lawn and views for days. It hadn’t surprised me to learn that Holden had bought this home immediately upon getting the job with Baltimore. I was curious what the inside was like. Would it be minimalistic, or homey? I couldn’t wait to find out. After I gave the quarterback a piece of my mind.
I jogged up the walk and stopped in front of his door, so deep a purple it almost looked black. I wondered if he’d changed it to match the team’s colors, or if it had always been that way. I fluffed and smoothed my hair and brushed imaginary wrinkles from my clothes and then took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous, but my body seemed to be responding to something my mind put out that I didn’t consciously acknowledge.
Steeling myself for one of the two probable outcomes of my unannounced visit—anger or a brush-off—I rang the bell. The chime rose deep inside the house and almost sounded like it echoed. I would bet anything the ceilings were vaulted, and that my minimalistic decorating style guess was on point.
I waited to see if I could hear any movement from within. When I didn’t, I contemplated ringing again, but I didn’t want to be impatient. He was in a wheelchair, after all, and I had no idea what the inside of the house was like. It might take him a while. After another pause, I decided to knock.
Rapping lightly on the door, I waited another minute. When I still didn’t hear any movement from within, I frowned. I knew he had to be home. None of the other doctors had talked to him, he didn’t have an appointment with Merrick, the ortho, until later in the week, and it wasn’t like he could drive himself. I supposed that Mrs. Reyes could have driven him somewhere, but I didn’t think so. She was even smaller than I was, barely reaching my shoulder, and I was below average in size and height. Holden would need help getting in and out of a vehicle right now. And unless she had Osric there to help her like she did when he first came home, it wouldn’t be easy for the woman to do alone.
With the realization that he was ignoring me becoming apparent, I felt the anger rise, and my cheeks heat. Nope. Nuh-uh.
I banged again, this time with the side of my hand and a closed fist. “Holden Neville Cramer. You will open this goddamn door right now, or I will call my friend Diggs at the Baltimore PD, and have this damn door broken down for a wellness check.”
Finally, I heard life from within. A little bit later, the locks flipped, and I got a peek of Holden coasting back in the chair with the opening door.
“Tamryn?”
I stormed by him, my ire still up. “Yeah. And you do not get to ignore me anymore. This is bullshit, Holden. I’m your doctor.” I spun to face him, and my breath lodged in my lungs. Dang, the man was gorgeous. He had spots of color in his cheeks, whether from exertion or embarrassment, I wasn’t sure. His dark, spiky hair was artfully disheveled as if he’d run his hands through it one too many times. Add in the fact that he hadn’t shaved, the scruff on his face just making him even more captivating and I… Yeah.
Holden shut the door and then locked it. “What are you doing here?”
