Chapter 1
Regina Morton tapped her pen against the desk as she scanned the chart. Okay, so this guy was angry, trying to deal with his injury, but he refused to work with her. How was she supposed to help him, provide his therapy, if he wouldn’t let her touch him? At least it wasn’t just her. He wouldn’t let anyone touch him. The surgeon had said that the tackle hit at just the right spot on his hip, that it shattered. If the player had hit him an inch higher, he would have been fine. Unfortunately, that’s a risk in playing professional sports.
“Gina.” A deep voice pulled her problematic patient.
“Alex.” She smiled. Alex Dare had been a friend since school. They’d stayed in touch over the years—a phone call here, a random dinner there—until he was injured on the football field. Then their contact had become more frequent. They had dinners together, him and his wife Madison. She knew, being around friends and family had helped his recovery. “Thank you so much, for coming in. I can’t thank you enough.”
Alex leaned onto the counter in front of her desk, at the front of Miami Memorial’s Physical Therapy Unit. “No problem, Gina. Of all people, I understand what he’s going through.” Much like her patient, Alex’s injury ended his career, and it had taken a lot for him to get over it. “It’s hard, you know? You have these dreams and ideas, that your life’s going to be one thing, and then in a flash, it’s gone. Even the strongest men can buckle under that.”
“How did you…come to grips with it?” She looked at him, waiting for an answer. This was a topic that she’d steered clear of since it happened.
Alex shrugged a shoulder and twisted his lips to one side. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have pulled through it without Madison, and my family, even you. The normalcy of just doing dinners, hanging out, helped keep my mind off of things.” She grinned, happy that her friends had found happiness, no matter how empty it made her own life seem. At almost thirty, her job left little time for a social life. If she were going to be wholly honest, she was lonely. She reached up to tighten her long blonde ponytail.
“I don’t have any more available friends to hook him up with. I need other ideas. What else you got?” They laughed together.
“I could talk to him. I’ve watched him play. He seems like a great guy, no trouble off field, anyway. Maybe he’ll open up, or at least listen to someone who’s been through it. Maybe I can help him get outside of his head.”
Gina nodded. “I would love that. Thank you, Alex.”
He smiled at her, patting the top of her head. Alex had always treated Gina like a little sister, ever since she moved in next door and the Morton’s adopted her. “Anytime. You still coming for dinner next week? Madison reminded me four times to remind you before I left the house this morning.”
Her grin was genuine and she nodded. “After that speech about all work and no play when I missed the Labor Day barbecue? I wouldn’t dare miss it.”
“Good.” He slapped a palm on the counter, and stepped back, looking up and down the hallway.
“Third floor, room three sixteen.”
He saluted her and walked off.
Gina had to admit, that in his suit, Alex cut an attractive figure. But in all the years she’d known him, she’d never had the urge to…sample Alex. They were just good friends. She was the “little sister” in their group of friends. Alex had taken her under his wing, brought her out of the anti-social shell she built and helped her blossom from a lonely, scared kid adopted by his neighbors to an only slightly awkward teenager then to a confident woman who only walked the fringe of lonely.
Shaking her head, Gina put thoughts of the past away and turned her full attention back to Lincoln Marshall’s chart. Lincoln Marshall. She’d seen him play. She doubted, thanks to his age and the controversy over his contract, that there was anyone who knew what football was that didn’t know about Lincoln Marshall. He was the star that the Buckin’ Buffalo had hitched their wagon to, the aging promise that was to bring them through their struggles to glory. Lincoln Marshall.
She wrote up a recovery plan. At least she’d have something to show him if he ever attended an appointment. She would stay away from telling him how lucky he was, although she didn’t write that down He’d broken six ribs and his right hip. Fortunately, the doctors here had patched and bolted him back together enough he could live a perfectly normal life. He just couldn’t play ball anymore. But he could walk. He could hold his kids—if he had any. He could drive. Make a life for himself. Instead of focusing on the positive, Mr. Marshall had chosen to pout and sulk over the end of a career that had been on its last legs anyway.
Knowing football, the way Gina did, she knew he had an amazing career. Over the span of seven years, he’d played for the Atlanta Arrowheads and won a Super Bowl ring. In Buffalo this season, he had helped a losing team make a comeback that some players only dreamed of. It wasn’t like he was leaving a loser. The man would be a legendary player that was talked about for years to come. If he had been smart, he should have money banked to live off of the rest of his life. Not to mention, there was so much a retired player could do to remain a part of the game. He could be a coach or a trainer. God, he had options.
She sighed, this was going to be difficult. Hell, she hadn’t even seen the patient yet. Hopefully, Alex could help. Since there was another appointment for Mr. Marshall scheduled for that afternoon, she set about getting things ready to work his hip, just in case he showed up.