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Noah addresses me. “Let's take a look at the MRI and discuss passive range of motion exercises.”
Seven days. I just need to get through the next seven days.
Mitch’s voice is firm. “Do as the doctor says. You don't want to risk making this worse.”
I will probably have to focus on rehab for now and find another way to eliminate my excess energy.I could use a distraction from football if I'm going to follow the doctor's orders.
Maybe if I focus on Roni, the time will pass quickly. Thinking about her every night since I met her has helped this past week fly by. Only now, I'm eager to kiss her. My nights have been filled with dreams of kissing her. Of loving her body. In my bed. In my shower. Fuck, I'd take her on my balcony with the autumn air cooling our sweat-slicked bodies.
Mitch and I wrap things up with Noah and leave his office with a list of exercises he'd like me to do, and a promise not to over-exert myself.
As we step out into the fresh air, Mitch holding the door for me as I struggle with the crutches, I take a deep breath, trying to rid my mind of the disappointment I’m feeling.
Mitch reaches for his phone. “I'm going to text Roni,” he says and looks up at me, “I've got the revised contract for her to sign.”
I put out a hand, stopping him from completing the call. “Cool, um, I can handle that if you want.”
“Are you sure? I'd appreciate that. I promised Serena I'd take the kids to the park this afternoon so she can get some rest.”
“Is she okay?” His wife is a wonderful woman, and she's heavily pregnant with their third baby.”
“She's fine. Just tired. We thought our family was complete until our oops baby came along. Running after the other two while carrying this one is testing her resolve. The weather's been great, but she hasn't been able to get outside much because the other two have gone back and forth with colds. This is the first time in a few days they've got their full spunk back. Momma needs a breather now.”
“You go spend time with your family. I'll take care of Roni.” Again, my mind conjures up a variety of ways to pass the time. None of which involve having her sign a contract.
Mitch jogs to his car to retrieve the contract from his briefcase.We say our goodbyes, and he heads off to his family while I send a quick text to Roni. Then I hobble to my car to wait for her response. I slide my crutches into the back, swing down into the driver's seat, and flip on the heat to ward off the chill. I love football season. I love Minnesota. But I’m not a fan of the colder weather.
While I wait, my mind drifts between getting back to playing at one hundred percent and all the 'restful' and 'gentle range of motion' activities I can do with Roni.
The message alert pings, disrupting my contemplation. Her response is short and to the point, and I must admit, surprising: “Sure, when do you want to come over? I'm at home.”
“I have time now?” I reply, purposely posing it as a question. I wait while the dots dance around, hesitate for a microsecond and then dance again.
The women I've spent time with over the last few years would never have invited me to their place, let alone spend time with me at a community center with a bunch of kids. Every one of them wanted the glamour that my career offered. They wanted to be seen on my arm. Even the suggestion of spending a night in, maybe eating pizza and watching a movie, would have their noses scrunched up like they smelled something foul.
Finally, my phone pings, and I see her response. She's sent me her address. I take that as a good sign.
A smile grows on my face as I enter the information into the GPS on my phone. If I play my cards right, Roni may still be willing to let me kiss her.
And if I'm out of play for a few more weeks, I see nothing wrong with hoping that maybe this rehab period won't be focused solely on football.
Chapter5
Roni
After I received Drew's text, I zipped around my apartment, picking up dirty clothes, hiding dishes in the dishwasher, and completing the fastest dust and vacuum job in history. I just closed the door to my bathroom. Didn’t have time for that.
I finished with a spritz of air freshener throughout and then flew back to my bedroom to change out of my loungewear and into something less casual. Jeans and a clean concert tee for some band from my father's day are the first things I found, so I went with that. I ran a brush through my hair and dabbed on some mascara and lip gloss.
Now I'm waiting. Curled up in the corner of my sofa, biting my nails and waiting. I glance at the plain brown envelope in the middle of my coffee table. It's perfectly centered, straight as a button, not cock-eyed at all.
I've moved it a dozen times. First, from my dining table to the coffee table. Then to my dresser drawer. And back to the coffee table.
It's the photos.
The ones I could get thousands for.
I know. I checked.
