Since Drew

by J. Nathan

  He eyed the bag. Then his eyes shot to mine.

  “You know you want to. All that sugary goodness.”

  He ripped the bag out of my hand and dug in. I resisted the urge to smirk as he stole a few pieces before handing it back to me and stuffing the pieces into his mouth. He grabbed hold of my chair and pushed me out of the gift shop.

  What the? “Really, I’m fine.”

  “Nope. I’ve got it.”

  Short of throwing a tantrum or yelling “Help,” there really wasn’t anything I could do to stop him, so I let him push me through the lobby. “Were you following me?”

  He balked as my chair cleared the sliding doors, and he walked me outside, avoiding the main entrance with its persistent reporters.

  “Seems pretty coincidental that we both ended up in the gift shop at the same time. Don’t you think?”

  “Not really. I hate being in my room,” he admitted. “I walk around a lot.”

  “You do realize you just came out of a coma, right? From everything I’ve read, you shouldn’t be able to do that.”

  “Yet, here I am.”

  “One of life’s little miracles.”

  He snickered. I so wished he wasn’t behind me. I would’ve loved to see it. Loved to see any change in his cold features. Did he show his teeth or that cocky smirk my Drew had perfected? Did his eyes dance playfully or smolder?

  “So, no Busty Betty today?” I asked, trying to keep our conversation light.

  He choked out a laugh. “Busty Betty?”

  “You know who I’m talking about.”

  He sighed behind me. “Yeah. I’ve got lots of those in my past.”

  “Strippers?”

  “She’s not a stripper—at least I don’t think she is.” He stopped me beside the bench we shared—in another lifetime—and dropped onto it.

  I dragged in a long breath, hating all the unwelcome moments of déjà vu. “She’s not your girlfriend?”

  He shook his head. “No girlfriend.”

  “Yeah. Probably should’ve guessed. You’re way too much of a pain in the ass.”

  His lips quirked. “Is that so?”

  “Girls like a laid back guy. You are the complete opposite of laid back.”

  His head recoiled. “I know plenty of girls who don’t mind.”

  “Besides Busty, I haven’t noticed any of them here.”

  His eyes drifted away.

  I should’ve been happy to have knocked him down a peg or two, but I suddenly felt like shit for being insensitive. I wasn’t him. I didn’t purposely set out to hurt other people. “So, since you’ve made a full recovery and all, when do you think they’ll be releasing you?”

  He shrugged. “Trying to get rid of me?”

  “Damn straight.”

  He laughed. Like a real laugh. Deep and raspy. The kind that reaches all the way down to the toes of anyone lucky enough to hear it.

  A little girl with pigtails chased an older man along the path. When they neared us, she stumbled. Drew jumped up and helped her to her feet. She smiled up at him with a giant gap where her front teeth should’ve been. “Thanks.”

  He tugged gently on her pigtails. “No sweat, kid.”

  I tried not to melt at the small exchange, but for some reason every fiber of my being longed to touch him. To make him remember me. Remember the fun we’d had. Remember the possibilities that existed between us.

  He settled back onto the bench and reached into my candy bag as the little girl trotted off. We watched patients, visitors, and staff cross the busy lawn like two people who shared more than just a bag of candy. But truthfully, that’s all we were.

  “I haven’t noticed you with any visitors either.” He didn’t bother to look at me. His eyes followed the little girl as she zigzagged across the lawn with the man now tailing her.

  “Didn’t realize you were paying attention.”

  “You walk around here long enough, you notice things.”

  I turned toward him, though his eyes didn’t waver. “Should I be concerned you’re roaming the dark halls late at night?”

  “I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

  I laughed. “I was talking about me and the other people you’re stalking. It’s a little creepy.”

  He chuckled low in his throat, reining back his laughter for some reason.

  “Well, just so you know…” I lowered my voice, as if to let him in on a huge secret. “My best friend Logan tries to stop by to see me most days. It’s my parents who don’t because they’re out of the country.”

  His eyes finally cut to mine. “Where are they?”

  “Saving whales.”

  “No shit?”

  “I shit you not. And Logan would be here more if she wasn’t cramming for finals. She really needs to pass seeing as though she nearly flunked out freshmen year and isn’t graduating with me.”

  “You’re graduating?” he asked, as if the notion had never crossed his mind.

  I nodded. “On the twentieth.”

  “Yeah? Me, too.”

  The other Drew hadn’t mentioned Duke graduated the same day as UNC. “Are you feeling up to taking your finals?”

  He reached into the bag and pulled out a couple gummy worms. “My professors already sent take-homes.”

  “One of the perks of being an athlete?”

  “One of the perks of being the star athlete.” He wasn’t bragging. Just the opposite. He was put-off by the notion.

  “A true golden boy, huh? Am I required to bow down?”

  “Fuck off.”

  I smiled. “Need I remind you? You’re the one who followed me.”

  He stuffed one of the worms into his mouth. “In your dreams.”

  “Nope. Can’t say I’ve seen you there.” Too often.

  His head tilted to the side, doubt dancing in his eyes.

  Bastard.

  “So what’s your plan when you get out of here?” I asked.

  His eyes narrowed, his words hesitant. “What do you mean?”

  I shrugged. “Your plans after you graduate.” Down deep, I wondered if playing pro football remained a possibility, as it had for the other Drew. Or if this Drew was just as opposed to it. But how could I bring that up without divulging I knew more than I was letting on?

  “I’m not really sure,” he admitted. “I’ll have my physical therapy degree. But I’ll still need to take my Boards.”

  My head withdrew. “That’s what you want to do?”

  He nodded. “Quite a few miracle workers got me back on the field after injuries. I want to pay if forward.” He must’ve seen the admiration in my eyes because he said no more.

  Maybe there was more to this Drew than the tough façade. The intolerance. The callousness.

  “How about you?” His eyes remained on mine.

  “How ironic would it be if I said reporter?”

  He shot me a dubious grin.

  “I don’t really know. I was supposed to make it to the Olympics.” My bottom lip jutted out in contemplation. “Now, I have no clue.”

  “The Olympics?” He sounded shocked, like he hadn’t heard me droning on about it in his hospital room when he wasn’t speaking. “For what?”

  I glanced to my legs. “800 meter track.”

  “Fuuuuck.”

  “Yup.”

  I wasn’t sure he’d say anything else. I mean, really? What was there to say? But he did. “So what now?”

  I shrugged. “No idea. My backup plan sucks.”

  “Why’s that?”

  I looked to him. “My coach taught me to focus solely on the medal, not what came next. He said it would take away from everything I was striving to do.”

  Drew nodded, seemingly understanding.

  “So. Any idea what a business major who never wanted to be a business major does now?”

  “I guess anything you set your mind to.”

  “Yeah.” My voice drifted off as I gazed out at the lightly swaying trees. “What if
that’s running?”

  “Then you do that.”

  My eyes dropped to my legs. “You make it sound easy.”

  “Nope. Not easy. But you’ve got guts.”

  My eyes jumped to his. “Says who?”

  He shrugged. “Sounded like something encouraging to say.”

  I threw back my head and laughed. A refreshing, shoulder-shaking, eyes-watering laugh. I let it all out—the frustration, the anger, the loneliness—and it felt incredible. And even better knowing Drew caused it. “You were trying to be encouraging?”

  He fought back a smile. “Maybe.”

  “Wow. That’s quite a stretch from an asshole.”

  He snickered. “Oh, I can be that, too.”

  “No kidding.”

  Steely clouds moved in, covering the sun. A light chill sent a shiver surging through me. But for once, I wasn’t in a rush to get away from him. We sat in companionable silence watching tiny leaves blow across the property as patients and visitors gradually dispersed inside the building.

  I’d be lying if I said knowing what brought on Drew’s coma hadn’t been on my mind. His frequent mood swings and split personalities were enough to give anyone whiplash. Had the coma caused it, or was he really that way? Avery confirmed he was difficult. But did I risk asking Drew about it and potentially setting him off, bringing back the cold Drew? Was it really that important to know? Right now?

  “Want to get some lunch?” Drew’s voice tugged me from my indecision.

  I looked to him, surprised by the unexpected invitation. “My candy wasn’t good enough?”

  He leveled me with his eyes. “Not if you want to get back out on the track.”

  “So, you’re worried about me?”

  He shrugged. “You worry about me.”

  “Worry’s not the right word,” I mused. “Tolerate. Endure. Empathize with maybe.”

  As if the last few minutes never happened, Drew’s eyes darkened, his features hardened, and a nasty scowl bent his lips. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”

  My entire body jerked back. “What?”

  He shook his head as he jumped to his feet. “I don’t know why I even bothered.”

  “You bothered?” I growled, finding it difficult to rein back my anger. “Are you freaking kidding me? I’m the one who’s been enduring the bulk of your bullshit since I’m the only one you actually talk to!” My knuckles whitened as I gripped my knees. “If anyone shouldn’t have bothered, it should’ve been me!”

  Anyone still mulling around turned our way.

  “If I didn’t have a cast on my leg right now, I’d be the one leaving, you asshole!” My eyes shot away and my entire body trembled.

  Without a word, Drew turned around and took off toward the building.

  “I hate you!” I yelled at his retreating form, like the nut I’d undoubtedly become.

  No. Like the nut he was making me.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I stared down at my hairy right leg which I hadn’t seen in weeks. And except for Doctor Evans, who’d just removed my cast, no one else would be seeing it until I had a very lengthy date with a well sharpened razor.

  “How’s it feel?”

  I wiggled my toes before slightly bending my knee. “Stiff.”

  He nodded. “It’ll take time. But you’re an athlete. Athletes, especially determined ones, make the best rehab patients. They do the work so they can get back out there. Just know¸ it won’t be better overnight. You still need to wear a boot to keep it stabilized. I don’t want you thinking it’s one-hundred percent yet.”

  “I understand.”

  “Tomorrow you start therapy in our rehab facility. Your new therapist will give you range of motion exercises for both your knee and leg. He’ll also get you on crutches so you won’t be bound to that wheelchair.”

  “Thank God.”

  He laughed. “Based on his assessment, and of course Doctor Fallon’s concurrence¸ we’ll start looking at discharging you.”

  I couldn’t contain my smile. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. You still need to do the work.”

  I nodded, certain I’d do whatever it took to get me home and walking again.

  * * *

  I arrived at the therapy room the following day. What I didn’t expect to find when I wheeled inside the state-of-the-art facility was a good looking blonde not much older than me helping a gray-haired woman on a stationary bike.

  When he spotted me in the doorway, a smile spread across his face. “You must be Andi.”

  I nodded, suddenly even more eager to start therapy.

  “Well, come in. Mary and I were just finishing up.”

  I glanced to Mary. Her legs pedaled away on her bike while her eyes checked out his ass like she wanted to take a bite out of it. I couldn’t blame her. His jeans sat low on his hips and hugged it like no one’s business.

  “I’m Anthony.” He approached with an outstretched hand. “I hope you’re ready to sweat.” My eyes went wide, my mind inundated with impure thoughts. Anthony quickly recovered. “And get rid of that chair.”

  I nodded, shaking his firm grip and clearing my mind of all smut-related thoughts. “Absolutely.”

  Anthony might’ve been hot, but he didn’t take it easy on me. If anything, he pushed me too hard for my first go at it. I’d spent a long hour stretching and attempting range of motion exercises I worried would re-tear my ACL or re-snap my fragile bones. By the end of our session, my knee and leg throbbed incessantly. A disgusting sheen of sweat covered my face. My T-shirt and shorts clung to my body like I’d jumped fully-clothed into a pool.

  But something about Anthony’s calm voice and relaxed demeanor put me at ease. Okay. So maybe it was his blue eyes that put me at ease. I was such a sucker for pretty eyes.

  I reclined on the massage table on the verge of drifting off to sleep as Anthony’s thumbs pressed into the arch of my foot. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. His cool-down massage was that good.

  “Do all your patients get this treatment or just the pretty ones?”

  My eyes snapped open. Drew stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes shooting daggers at Anthony.

  Anthony paid him no attention, continuing to work wonders on my foot. “What’s up, Slater?”

  So they knew each other.

  Drew’s hardened mask never faltered. “Are you almost done?”

  I stared across the room for a long moment before realizing his question was directed at me. “What?”

  He threw out his hand. “This. You just about done here?”

  Was this an alternate reality? Why did he care if I was done? Hadn’t we said all that needed to be said?

  Anthony didn’t even bother looking at him. He just moved his hands to my other foot. “The perk of Andi being my patient is I get to say when she’s done.”

  “That’s how it’s gonna be then?” Drew asked.

  Again unsure who his words were meant for, I looked to him. His eyes were glued on Anthony’s hands on my foot.

  Then, as if he’d never even been there, he tore his eyes away and walked off.

  “From what I heard, the guy couldn’t talk yet,” Anthony said.

  I looked down at him crouched at my feet. “Are you gonna tell me what that was about?”

  A smile stretched across his face. “We know each other.”

  “No shit.”

  He snickered. “Drew was a year behind me at Duke, but we were in the same PT program.”

  “He told me that was his major.”

  “Yeah, well, he was the hot shot football player who got everything he wanted. Everything except the coveted summer internship.”

  “Let me guess. You got it?”

  He shrugged. “Some people get things handed to them on a silver platter. Some of us have to work for what we get. That was a life lesson for Drew. One he didn’t take well. Especially since I got to teach it to him.”

  “That�
��s it?”

  “That…and I dated his ex.”

  I laughed. “I knew there had to be more.”

  He grinned. “Hey. The guy goes through girls like he goes through jock straps. Someone had to comfort the ones tossed to the side.”

  I shook my head, remembering a similar conversation with Logan.

  “Obviously, I’m not a fan.” He lifted his chin toward the now empty doorway. “But that right there was him staking his claim.”

  I wiped the sweat from my face with the sleeve of my T-shirt. “Hardly. We can barely even tolerate each other.”

  He quirked a knowing brow. “Well, just be careful.”

  No kidding.

  After therapy, I rolled down the first floor hallway en route to the elevator, desperately needing a shower.

  “You got your cast off?”

  My head whipped to my left. Drew leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

  I glared at him. “Observant.”

  He matched my glare. “You two looked chummy.”

  “What’s it to you?”

  He shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”

  I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling. “Well, the way I see it, it’s none of your business. You lost that privilege the second you went all crazy on me.” I shook my head, so done playing his game—whatever it was. “I can promise you, from here on out, I’ll stay far away from you. Just do the same for me.” I grabbed my wheels and rolled off leaving him a distant memory.

  Or at least trying to.

  I couldn’t exactly ignore his growl or the sound of his fist slamming into the wall as I disappeared around the corner.

  * * *

  The next day, Anthony positioned me against the massage table while he fit me for my crutches. Once the rubber armrests sat under my armpits, I balanced. At least I endeavored to. It was no easy feat with a boot on my right foot and my recovering left leg needed for support.

  “Try to make a lap around the room,” Anthony urged.

  My first attempt was awkward. It wasn’t easy getting into a natural rhythm, putting the crutches in front before swinging myself to meet them. After numerous uncomfortable attempts, I began to get the hang of it and made my way around the room feeling more unrestrained than I had in weeks.

  “You’re doing great,” Anthony called as I picked up speed, circling the room like a woman on a mission.