by Lia Lee
“Hi.” Trent glanced at her, then back at the man he didn’t know was his father.
Gerard grinned, and the sight plucked at Hartford’s heart in a good way, before she made it halt. It was as if Gerard had forgotten everything when he heard his little voice.
“Do you play football?” he asked suddenly, and Trent shook his head. “Oh. Good.”
He peeked at Hartford, and Hartford resisted the urge to grab her child and run. Maybe he saw it in her eyes, because he drew in a sharp breath and shifted to get up.
“Do you play football?” Trent’s question made Gerard pause in the act of getting up.
“Yeah. I play a lot of football.” But he was already trying to put an emotional distance between the two of them. It was clear that this was not working out for him, and Hartford didn’t know if she felt angry or relieved.
“Is that how you got hurt?”
“Umm…”
Hartford snapped out of her reverie. Trent was incredibly curious about Gerard, and she didn’t blame him. He was only three. He was already ecstatic that he was getting to travel with his mother. Affectionately, Gerard slid a hand over Trent’s little head.
“Maybe we can talk later.” She smiled at her son.
Gerard got the hint, meeting her eye. She didn’t want him conversing with her son.
Looking confused and dazed as if he’d been through a battle, he stood up and walked sideways. “Let’s show you around.”
Hartford tried to distract herself by looking around. No doubt, Gerard’s house was warm and inviting—unlike its owner. They’d walked through a foyer and entered what she assumed was a living room. With upholstery in shades of beige and turquoise, the room looked bright and cheerful. The back wall was entirely glass and led to a swimming pool that was glistening blue.
“Mrs. Berry?” Gerard called, and a middle-aged woman in black slacks and a white blouse, looking extremely graceful, walked in.
He introduced his housekeeper to Hartford, while her mind once again wandered back to the sight of Gerard smiling at Trent as if he were made of magic. It had only lasted a few seconds, but she had to admit it was painful and euphoric at the same time. She was also glad that Gerard was astute enough to know she didn’t want him conversing with Trent too much.
Gerard excused himself. “I’ll be in the back. Please get comfortable, and Mrs. Berry will show you to your rooms.”
***
Gerard sat on a pool chair, checking the tens of messages his parents were sending him. He turned his gaze to the water of the pool, not really seeing anything but the face of the boy that was his son.
The resemblance was uncanny. It was a joke from God. The same hair, the same brows, the same square chin. He fought the urge to laugh out loud. Meeting him had left him exhausted and anxious and giddy at the same time. He was not used to feeling that flow of emotion.
Then his mind wandered to Hartford. She’d been wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a loose-fitting green top that was tucked in. Simple yet sophisticated—totally her.
How did she look so different? He would’ve thought she couldn’t get any prettier. Her facial features were more defined, her green eyes looked bigger, her skin glowed, and her hair was longer, lying in waves over her full breasts. Her waist was tinier, her hips fuller, her breasts riper. He jerked his head to clear it as his body hardened in desire for her.
He wished he could avoid seeing her walking around his house. She was a mistake on legs, waiting to happen. He had had her, but that had been a different Hartford. It hadn’t been this sports physical therapist, cited as one of the best. It hadn’t been this mother of one, who looked regal and, quite frankly, totally out of his league as she strolled into his house.
His reverie was interrupted by his cell phone ringing shrilly in his hand.
“Hey, Dad.”
“It’s Mom. Did you meet Trent?”
Gerard rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, I did.”
“So, how’d it go?”
Gerard grimaced. He was losing his patience. He was mentally and emotionally drained. “What do you mean by ‘how’d it go?’ The kid came in with his mother. I said hi, and asked Mrs. Berry to show them to their rooms in the left wing of the house. What did you expect, Mom? That I gave him a piggyback ride and my favorite watch?”
There was a pause at the other end of the line, and Gerard flinched. He was taking his frustrations out on his parents. It wasn’t their fault Hartford had coldheartedly dumped him and refused to let him know he had a son. Maybe, if he’d known, he could’ve found a way to be in the child’s life.
But he knew that was highly unlikely. He’d had plans, and having a baby was not part of them.
“I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just… you’re not making this ordeal any easier by asking me these questions via text and calls. Whatever hopes you have of me building something with the kid are totally ridiculous. I don’t even know him, and now that I think of it, I never even knew his mother. So this discussion is moot. Just try not to ask me such questions. She’s a physical therapist, and she’s going to heal my injury so I can play again and be all set for the season. And the physical therapist…” he repeated pointedly, “brought along her child. That’s it. It has nothing to do with me.”
***
Gerard was still sitting by the pool when Hartford found him. He turned toward her when he heard her footsteps.
Hartford’s heart leapt to her throat. His eyes glinted in the sun, turning almost transparent. It was as if she’d been transported back in time. His eyes always looked like that while he was on the field. She wondered why she hadn’t been this mesmerized with his eyes back when they were in a relationship. She’d taken him for granted. He had been hers, and she’d assumed he’d stay hers. She’d believed there was nothing that could come between them or wrench them apart.
But then… Trent had happened. And she’d found out how self-centered Gerard was.
“I need to do some baseline tests before we get started.”
Gerard stared at her silently for a moment, lost, as if wondering how they ended up there, strangers, completely detached and unfeeling. The last time he’d been this close to her, she’d been hugging him and he’d been holding her and telling her he loved her. How did something so deep and profound simply dissipate into thin air?
“Sure.”
Hartford got to work. She pulled up the sleeves of her green blouse and dragged a stool closer to his pool chair. Taking a deep breath, her hands shaking, she avoided his gaze and folded the hem of his gray trousers up higher.
One fold. Two. Three. It was too narrow to fold up higher and reveal his knee. She looked up at him, and he looked at her face at the same time.
“Maybe I should…”
He seemed to freeze in place, as if trying to figure out what to do to fix the minor issue of his trousers not allowing her to see his knee. Her fingers on his calf as it exuded a heat that penetrated the gloves she wore, she waited for him to say something more. That’s when he seemed to give up on an internal battle and shot upright.
Too abruptly, he stood up and undid the string on the waistband of his trousers and dropped them to the floor.
Hartford drew back in shock at his swift, brazen act, but stopped before her bewilderment became obvious. Her eyes glued to his bare thighs, she tried to avoid looking any higher. But she hadn’t really known the true power of her peripheral vision. His white boxers were a little snug, the shape trapped inside discernable, and as he sat back down again, it only got worse.
Her fingers fumbled with the tube of medicine and bandage. She was glad for the gloves she wore. At least they prevented her from touching his skin. “Straighten your leg, please.”
Her voice was vibrating, and her legs were turning to jelly. How had she ended up being a foot from his crotch with his trousers laying on the floor in a heap?
“Where’s your bedroom?” she asked casually and gaped at a spot on the floor at what she’d just said
and what it sounded like. She looked up and tried not to look guilty. “Umm. I’m only asking because I noticed there’s quite a few stairs up to the rooms I’m staying in, and I don’t think you should be climbing them.”
He nodded, his features stiff. “I moved downstairs temporarily. I haven’t climbed those stairs since the injury.”
Hartford nodded. Phew. Her heart was still racing, and her ears steamed from the embarrassment lingering in her bloodstream. When he groaned, Hartford pulled her hands away from his knee and looked up. “What?”
His eyes shot open. “What?”
Her eyes narrowed at his expression. His neck was visibly taut, and her eyes narrowed at him questioningly. “Are you in pain?”
Gerard cleared his throat and rubbed his bicep. “No, not really.”
But that neither looked like the truth nor sounded like it. He looked like he was in agony.
“Can you give me a moment?”
Hartford drew back, her gelled hands lifted. “Sure.”
Gerard strode along the wooden deck and through the glass doors leading into the house. She tried not to think of the way he’d semi-undressed in front of her. Had he done that to arouse her on purpose? It’s not his fault he still turns you on like this after all he’s done, her angry subconscious responded.
Her gaze snapped up, and she took deep breaths as he walked back out. Clearly, he had also been uncomfortable with the snug-boxer situation. Because now, he was wearing a pair of loose-fitting shorts over them.
She was still sitting in the same spot, her hands in the air to keep her gloves clean. He sat across her again, a large exhale signaling his relief.
Hartford eyed his shorts, then couldn’t help but steal a glance at his face. Laughter bubbled inside of her at the ridiculously awkward situation. She fought the mirth from bursting past her lips and pursed them, recalling other times he had been a completely hilarious freak with her around. But things had changed, and she was expected to be professional.
The old Hartford wouldn’t have let him live it down. She’d joked for years about him passing out from pleasure while she sucked his manhood. And she would’ve still been doing the same if the circumstances hadn’t changed so dramatically—if they weren’t utter strangers now.
She cleared her throat to urge her mind to get serious. But the laughter was still fighting to escape her lips. “So, how’s the pain now on a scale of one to ten? Ten’s the highest.”
“Umm… four.”
She looked up at his face, the ultimate professional. “When I saw you using your crutch, I assumed it had gotten worse. You rated your pain at eight a week ago when I checked your file.”
“It’s better now. I was using the crutches because I just want to recover faster.”
“That’s good. We’ll start regular physiotherapy to make sure your joint stays nice and strong.” He smiled in answer and it was contagious. “What?” she said with a smile, telling herself it didn’t hurt to be cordial with her patient. She just needed to let go of the past and get on with the job.
“Just nice to see you as Dr. Roberts.”
She nodded. “You’ve always been a star, though, so I can’t say I see you any differently.”
“I’m not a star, and I never was.”
She stood up and smiled. He’d always been humble about his talent and underestimated his abilities.
It was obvious that simply letting the past stay in the past was anything but simple. “You shouldn’t deny it. You’ve earned the star status.” She glanced around. “Everything you have is because you worked hard to be where you are. Don’t downplay your success. You’re an awesome football player. You are a star.”
He looked gobsmacked, and she knew why he was. They’d had similar discussions in the past, and the speech had taken her back in time too. She walked away. Gerard always said she was capable of making his self-esteem multiply tenfold. She always bucked him up before a match, before an exam, before an interview. She’d been his pillar until he’d decided he didn’t need her anymore.
***
Gerard could still feel the stirring in his balls. His erection had subsided, thanks to the distraction technique he’d come up with in a panic. While Hartford touched his leg, he’d been thinking about the new alloy rims he’d ordered for his sports car.
Gerard clenched his eyes shut as he tried to recover from the embarrassment. He’d made an utter and complete fool of himself, and he was still reeling from what he’d done. He cursed himself for being such a monumental idiot. Why had he thought dropping his trousers before her was a good idea? The truth was, he’d been flustered and had grown hot with want when her fingers stroked the tendons along his knee, behind it, up the back of his thigh. He wasn’t a child. He knew it was a professional situation. There was nothing sexual in the touch, but goddammit, he couldn’t breathe!
His boxers had barely concealed the bulge in his boxers, and he’d even resorted to praying that he wouldn’t get a boner. But the more he obsessed about it, the more it grew. Finally he distracted himself thinking about his housekeeper, then a new German shepherd he’d set his sight on to purchase. When his mind had still returned to Hartford and her touch stubbornly, and started recalling the way her naked body had felt in his arms when she was younger, her breasts less full, her face less stunning, he’d clenched his eyes shut and groaned aloud unknowingly in frustration.
He’d thought it would be a good tactic to let her know he was completely comfortable with her touching his leg, and he’d overdone it. It backfired miserably.
He’d been blushing too. What the fuck? He cursed himself. No one could reduce him to feeling so pathetic. Except Hartford, of course.
Back when they’d been together and seemingly inseparable, Hartford had been the single most influential person in his life. And he was still trying to figure what it was that went wrong.
His clenched his jaws and stared at his bare feet on the tiled floor around the pool as he pictured a life with her. What would it have been like to have her around in this new life he’d made for himself? Coming home to her, flaunting off the stunning woman as his girlfriend. His insides turned giddy with pleasure, but the reality of the moment abruptly disintegrated his fantasy.
It couldn’t have worked out even if they had tried. She was set to become a doctor. He was set to be a football player. They just weren’t meant to stay together.
That’s what had happened to them. Life had happened to them. The ambitions they’d supported and groomed in one another had been exactly the thing that had wrenched them apart. It was meant to be.
His jobless mind desperate to find something to stay preoccupied, it wandered back to the way her fingers had slid over his flesh. Even though her gloves had been a barrier to the touch, it hadn’t mattered to his body, which had surged in response.
He’d made several observations while she’d checked his injury. Hartford wore a lot less makeup than she did when they were in college. And she only ended up looking dewy and fresh and regal. The amount of class in that one woman was enough to rival the class in all his girlfriends during the past four years bundled together. He felt like a perverted freak for lusting after her. He wished she hadn’t worn gloves to touch him. Not because he would get off having her fingers on his leg, but because for four years, he’d dreamed of the way her skin had gleamed and contrasted against his. It was a drug, and he knew he’d never see their fingers or legs entwined again.
“Sucks!” he said aloud as he got up and grabbed the crutch.
He made a mental note to avoid being alone with Hartford again. He was impulsive, and he couldn’t risk being impulsive around Hartford and her child. He grabbed his phone and made several phone calls. He’d remedy that part, starting right now.
***
Hartford tried to make herself at home. She didn’t have a choice, really. She had to cook for Trent, so she made her way into the kitchen and fixed him a sandwich. When the housekeeper, Mrs. Berry, spotted her, the
poor woman was so upset she almost had a heart attack. Apologizing profusely, she took over the task of carrying the food to Trent.
Hartford felt overwhelmed, but she was coerced into explaining what Trent liked to eat, and she was told something fresh would be prepared for Trent every day. Grateful for the help as Mrs. Berry offered to watch Trent while he ate, Hartford went out looking for Gerard. It was her job to keep an eye on him and to suggest changes in his lifestyle that would expedite his recovery and support his fitness.
Several loud male voices from the right wing of the house made her follow the sound in curiosity. Reminding herself that keeping an eye on Gerard was definitely part of her job description, she peeked inside the room to see five large men lounging in front of the TV, beers in their hands.
Hartford stayed out of sight. Great, Gerard had friends over. She turned away, not wanting to intrude on Gerard’s personal space. She found Trent where she’d left him and read him a book after he finished eating. Then, euphoric at being able to hold his little hand while she worked, just like she’d hoped, she took his hand to go check on Gerard again.
It was all a little foolish. A grown-ass man, a professional football player, spending time with his friends had to supervised by her, but it was all in her contract. She wondered if Gerard’s team’s managers had more to do with her selection and contract stipulations than he had. To be fair, Gerard had looked a little baffled when she arrived at his doorstep with Trent in tow.
She was watching Gerard from her vantage point through the door and noticed that he didn’t communicate with his friends. At all. He simply sipped his beer and stared at a spot that was next to the TV. Her brows furrowed. What was that all about?
She gasped as Trent pulled free of her hold and ran through the living room, out the door to the pool.
“No, no, no. Trent, stop.”
She hurried after him and caught him by the arm, her heart beating fast as she lowered herself to his level. “You can’t be out here by yourself, Trent.” The pool was dangerous and looked like a monster next to her little son. She’d have to leave Trent locked inside the bedroom with this level of paranoia.