Within seconds my phone was ringing.

"Jesus Christ, Avery."

"Hey," she said, her voice soft and barely audible.

Alarm gripped my chest at her tone and I sat up a little higher in my truck. I was on my way back to practice after a long tutoring session that involved final exams.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she croaked. There was some shuffling in the background.

"Where are you? Are you sick?"

"I'm in bed. I just woke up."

I glanced at the clock on my dash. My brows furrowed. "Avery, it's midafternoon, and a school day. What's going on?"

"I skipped."

I frowned. It wasn't like Avery to skip school. In fact, I couldn't remember a time when she did cut class. Attendance was important to her. Being active in as many school functions was important to her. And so was getting into the college of her choice. She loved the social atmosphere, her teachers, she was class president and on track to be valedictorian.

She cleared her throat. Her voice still low and achy as she said, "I haven't been feeling well."

"But you never skip," I stated in shock. If anything, she would've gone to the doctor after class like she had in the past.

"It's just…my cramps are really bad right now and I've been nauseous." She paused. "I think I have the flu."

"You skipped over period cramps?" I asked, my voice raised in surprise.

"Not everyone can be as perfect as you, Ria," she bit out, insulting me at the same time. I flinched.

"I…I’m" I stammered, pulling into World Cup. I shifted into park and stared at the glass windows of the vast gym. "I'm just concerned because it's so unlike you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I didn't mean to snap at you, I've just been grouchy lately from lack of sleep. What's up that you had to disturb me from my beauty sleep?"

I laughed. "I wanted to tell you that I'll be there in a couple of weeks."

"Really," she squeaked. "I get to see my BFFFFFF?"

I laughed again. "Yes. My mom asked if I could be there for Easter dinner, so I'll be home for a few days."

"I can't wait! It's been so long!"

I smiled. As excited as I was about seeing her, I was still very worried about her behavior lately. "Really, though, are you okay? You're harder to get ahold of than the president, and now you're sick and missing school. This doesn't sound like you."

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Don't exaggerate, I just have a lot going on right now. How are you calling me in the middle of the day anyway? Shouldn't you be at practice?"

"I just pulled into the gym, actually. I have to start therapy on my Achilles today and Kova is doing it."

"Your Achilles? Kova? Please tell me you've used your brain and stayed away from that fine piece of meat. I know he's got those banging fish lips and Greek god body going on, but nothing good can come from that."

I gave Avery a rundown of all the things that had happened the past couple of months. From my injury to my meets to my parents. I had her caught up within a handful of minutes. My life was basically wash, rinse, and repeat. It didn't take long.

She ignored everything I said and focused on Kova. "Are you staying away from him?"

I sighed dramatically. "Yes. Nothing has happened. I promise I've been a good little girl."

"That's not what your broth—I mean, your mom said."

My brows furrowed, paranoia swirled in my chest. "When did you talk to my mom?"

"Ah, I mean"—she cleared her throat—"I overheard your mom talking to my mom and she made a couple of comments about how close you and Kova seemed at a competition. I thought I heard her say he put his arm around you in his jacket? I can't remember for sure."

In his jacket? I didn't understand that comment.

Nausea stirred my stomach. My first big meet in Las Vegas was the only one my parents had attended yet.

"When did they talk? What did she say?"

"It was a couple of weeks ago, I think? Shoot, I'm not sure exactly when. Things have been kind of hectic here."

"Focus, Avery. When?"

Her calmness rolled into annoyance in mere seconds. "I don't know. Two months ago?"

"You just said a couple of weeks. Now it's two months?"

"I didn't think it was that important, so I didn't log it in my diary," she snipped. Avery didn't have a diary.

"You didn't think it was important to tell me the moment you heard something about my coach being too cozy with me and my mom seeing it? That's huge," I screeched, shocked she'd not mentioned this sooner. "I can't believe this."

"I meant to text you but I forgot. I figured if it was at a meet and your parents were there that you wouldn't be that stupid to try anything."

"You forgot," I retorted in a flat tone, shaking my head. Unbelievable. "You forgot."

"What difference does it make if you're being a good little girl anyway?"

"It just does!" I yelled. "This is huge, Ave. I can't believe you forgot!" I was legitimately shocked to the core my best friend didn't notify me of this revelation sooner. A text would've taken ten seconds.

"Well, believe this."

Click.

I pulled my phone away and stared down at the blank screen. She hung up on me. Avery hung up.

I didn't think I was being unjust, and I also didn't think I deserved her blasé attitude either. If the roles were reversed, I would've had her back and got in touch with her as soon as I could. She let months slide by, months I could've prepared a believable lie.

Fury ignited my blood and I chucked my phone into the passenger seat. Tears burned the back of my eyes. My jaw trembled. I covered my face and threw my head back. Stars danced in front of my vision and my hands trembled from the anger bubbling inside of me. Avery should have messaged me immediately when she overheard.

I got out of my truck and marched around the front to the passenger side and opened the door. I bent down, searching for my phone, my hand skimming under the bucket seat until I found it. Sonofabitch. The screen was shattered and it wouldn't turn on. I would need to call Mom and have her order me a new one quickly.

I strode inside World Cup and went straight for the therapy rooms in the back, where I found Kova speaking to a man near one of the blue tables, both had their backs to me.

"Hey," I said softly, announcing myself. When they turned around, I stopped short.

Whoever this man was, he was drop dead gorgeous. I raked a stare down his sun kissed body. Khaki shorts and a fitted polo shirt clung to his tall frame. He had long, dirty blond hair that held a thick wave. It folded at his neck and cupped his tanned face. The lengthy stubble on his jaw was the same dirty blond shade, and he had no mustache. And his eyes, while not as spellbinding as Kova’s, his blue eyes could rival the clearest ocean.

This man was a quintessential surfer. I bet he smelled like sun and salt water. I couldn't stop gawking. Have mercy on his rugged handsomeness.

Kova cleared his throat.

I shifted my wide eyes to him. His brows furrowed and he stared right at me, not fond of my blatant assessment of the man next to him.

He cleared his throat again and I stepped forward until I was in front of them. I was right…the man reminded me of the beach.

"Adrianna, this is an old friend of mine, Dr. Ethan Hart."

I held up my hand and waved. Waved, like a freaking moron. "Hi."

"Dr. Hart—"

"Kova." His voice was hoarse, like he could cut glass. "Cut the shit with the formalities. We've been friends for too long."

Kova laughed under his breath. "Ethan is an orthopedic surgeon. He drove up from the Keys to observe me perform the Graston Technique on you today."

That was an awful long drive for a favor. "You came all the way here for that?" I looked at Mr. Rugged Handsome.

"I wanted to make sure I was performing it correctly," Kova answered for him.

"Not confident in your capabilities?" I smirked. "Performance anxiety?"

Kova's eyes glimmered, his nostrils flared. I could tell by the twist of his lips he wanted to say something.

His friend barked out a laugh and glanced at Kova. "I don't know how you do it, man."

Kova side-eyed him, his twisted lips curving even more. "A lot of vodka, that is how."

His friend chuckled again, then looked at me. "Even though Kova is now licensed, and I have no doubt he could do whatever he puts his mind to, the first few times are nerve wracking. Having a trained professional by your side helps. I've been doing this therapy for many years and I'm constantly traveling to do this on pro athletes down in Miami. So when Kova called me, I got here as soon as I could."

My eyes shifted to Kova and I nodded. He was a perfectionist through and through. He aimed to be the best. I guess I shouldn't be surprised he called in a professional like Dr. Hart.

"Why don't you hop up on the table. Lay on your stomach and let your feet dangle off."

I climbed up and got situated, and watched as Dr. Hart rolled out a thick cloth on the table adjacent to me. It reminded me of something artists used to hold their drawing pencils and such. He began removing the tools and placing them in a uniform line, six shiny instruments with rounded edges. I frowned as apprehension surged inside me.

"How long is this going to take," I asked wearily.

He shot me a glance then went back to what he was doing. "It should take no more than minutes, depending on the size of the injury."

I looked back at the different instruments in worry. "All that for ten minutes, huh?"

"It's not as bad as it looks. You'll be sore the first time or two, but after that you should be good."

He looked over my head to Kova. "Ready?"

"Yes."

A minute or so later, Kova was rubbing some cream onto my calf and the back of my ankle.

"What your coach is doing is applying an emollient. He's going to rub it in from the top of your knee down to your foot. It's a lotion that will soften the skin and keep it from drying out, but more importantly, it helps with the friction."

Kova began running a dull-edged tool down the length of my calf. It was cool to the touch, but quickly warmed up after he repetitively moved in the same motion.

"Apply pressure and run the blade smoothly down her calf like you're doing now. Can you feel the sandy, gravel feel under it?"

"Yes," Kova said. "It is smooth in some areas, and others it feels like pebbles of dirt."

"Right. So, if you're feeling that grit, that's an area that's seen a lot of stress or has been injured before. Mind if I feel it?"

They switched places and the doctor ran a hand down my calf first before he started. "There's nice muscle definition here, but I can tell by touch it's tight and there are knots." He stroked the back of my leg with the tool, pressing much harder than Kova. I grunted and tensed up.

"Does that hurt, Adrianna?" he asked.

"A little bit," I grunted.

"More so than Kova?"

This time I pushed my butt in the air out of reflex. "Yes," I grunted.

"Relax." His voice was firm and demanding. I lowered my hips and he continued the raking as he spoke to Kova. "A lot of newbies are afraid to apply pressure. Don't be. You won't hurt her. The more you do this, the more you'll get a good feel for her and how much she can take."

"Hmm…" He hummed under his breath, like it was worse off than he expected. He ran the blade harder, trying to smooth out the bumps. It reminded me of when I was a kid and my mom wanted my hair in the perfect ponytail. She'd brush in the same spot over and over until it was smooth and perfectly leveled, not caring that my head was on fire from the impact of the bristles or that I had probably lost hair.

"That restriction you feel under the blade tells me this is an area that's seen a tremendous amount of stress, possibly an injury that has healed itself and has been reinjured." He applied more pressure. "There’s some tissue buildup as well. Since this is the first time for both of you, I suggest gradually increasing pressure with each session." He switched spots with Kova again and turned to me. "Adrianna, you'll notice red blotches on your calf, they’re nothing to be alarmed about. It's just blood flowing to the Achilles. It's great for stimulating circulation and healing."

"Okay," was all I said as I watched over my shoulder.

"How often do you suggest treatment," Kova asked. He was now working the blade midway down to my ankle, where there was more heat and an intense fiery burn but nothing I couldn't handle…yet.

"Treatments can be done regularly, or twice a week. I would suggest every other day for now, that way you give the inflammation time to heal before you start again."

Great. I'll just pencil blading into my schedule.

Kova hit the back of my ankle and I gasped, sucking in an audible breath as he held the back of my ankle steady. He paused, then resumed, and I gripped the blue table pad. My toes curled in response to the pain. Fucking hell!

"You feel more grit down by her ankle, don't you?" His friend asked and Kova nodded. "That’s where you need to focus on more now."

The blade was shaped like a concaved butter knife, and he used the tip to swipe up and down around the hollows of the back of my ankle, hitting between the little grooves as he held my heel in his hand.

"If you're feeling a lot of gravel or sand, I suggest switching blades to really get in deep and fine tune that spot."

I no longer liked the handsome doctor.

He handed Kova another stainless-steel tool similar to the first one, only this one didn't have a concaved edge. It looked like a butter knife with no handle.

"She's going to feel it a little more intense now as you start up from the top and work your way down again."

For a novice, Kova's strokes felt precise and experienced. He was confident in his ability. I tried to focus on him and his assertive nature to block out the intensifying pain, but as I watched him maneuver lower to my heel, my brain went into overdrive.

"Oh my God, that hurts," I said through clenched teeth. He repeatedly scraped over the heel bone like he was spreading frozen butter on toast. It was the spot right where I'd had the most pain lately, and this pain felt like burning flesh just peeling off the bone. "It hurts," I choked out. Tears blurred my eyes and I grinded my jaw. I wanted to kick out with my other foot to get them away.

"You'll be sore tomorrow, but the following day you should see a noticeable difference, it will be well worth the pain. The first visit is always the most uncomfortable one." He turned toward Kova. "Go easy on her tomorrow."

"I make no promises," Kova said, chuckling.

"Always were a sadist," his friend joked.

"No pain, no gain. There is no satisfaction in easy."

"How do you two know each other?" I bit out, dying inside.

"College," Dr. Hart volunteered.

Kova focused on the back of my foot, scraping over where the tendon met the heel. He drew the instrument smoothly up the center of my calf, then back down and around my boney heel like he was sculpting clay and chiseling down stone. He repeated the motions, focusing at the heart of the Achilles tendon and injury. I tensed, flexing my foot, and Ethan tapped the back of my thigh.

"Loosen up. It's almost over."

"How much longer?" I was on the verge of crying. Kova didn't ease up either, he continued like I hadn't even spoke.

"Another few minutes then we should be good to go," Kova’s friend answered.

"Another few minutes!" I shrieked. "I don't know if I can withstand any more of this agonizing pain."

I wasn't sure I'd be able to walk after this.

"Toughen up. Do not be so dramatic, Adrianna," Kova ordered.

My hands balled into little fists. I was seriously contemplating back kicking his face and walking right out. I wasn't sure if there was anything worse than this sort of pain on the planet. Not even my kidney infection was this bad.

"You see that bright red line? How it lights right up?" the wonderful doctor asked my dickhead coach. He motioned up my calf muscle. "That's the Achilles tendon. You can see she has got some issues going on there. You'll want to focus right over the line and pull in a downward motion toward her heel to promote healing and circulation, like you just were, and then upward and out to scan again. Make sure you score around the bone, get deep in the cavities and around the foot. Don't be afraid to hurt her."

I knew I wasn't supposed to take Motrin now, but something, any kind of pain killer, would be imperative after this.

As Kova pulled down the center of my calf with the convex side of the blade, I wanted to cry out and beg for him to stop. It felt like he was under my skin scraping the actual tendon. I tried not to squirm on the table, but the rubbing hurt like hell and I wasn't sure I could withstand any more. It was pure agony.

"If she's having any kind of straining in her calf, then I'd suggest treatment into her foot."

"I believe she does," Kova said, up close and personal with my leg. I prayed to God they'd save that for another day.

"So let's work there as well."

Fuck. My. Life.