In With the New Baby

by Jamie Knight

  “Why don’t you come to the veterans’ alliance?”

  “That group Dr. Mack runs, for the PTSD patients?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “It’s more low key than actual sessions with him. It includes a lot of different people from various walks of life, just talking to each other and getting support. Given everything, I completely forgot about that as an option.”

  I’m skeptical.

  “Given everything, I don’t feel like starting down another road.”

  “C’mon, bud,” he says and touches my elbow.

  I say nothing.

  “Just come by tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

  I look at him as he beams. I feel sorry for him and I don’t want to disappoint him. Friends like that, given our mutual background as Navy SEALs, are a brotherhood no one who has never been in it can understand. But I also don’t believe in this psychotherapy bullshit.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say, but by that, I mean I’ll think about how much I don’t plan to go.

  Damien claps his hands.

  “Perfect!” he says and goes out the front door.

  I have to laugh. Some people do really care about me, but they can’t seem to understand that I’m the type of person who likes to be left alone, rather than bothered by a bunch of different doctors and support groups and whatever other tricks Damien has up his sleeve.

  I yawn and stretch and turn on the TV with the remote.

  Dr. Phil is talking to some young kid and telling him pretty much to stop being a fuckup.

  I can relate.

  I nestle down and fall asleep as Dr. Phil dispenses his sage advice that I know I won’t take any better than the kid on his show will. I was born stubborn and I’ll die stubborn.

  Chapter 5

  Amanda

  I’m tired. I’ve had a lot of appointments today and my patients seem to be responding to their therapy, which is good, but it can get rather taxing.

  I sit down and look at my last appointment for the day.

  Lincoln Drake.

  Great.

  “He probably won’t even show up,” I say aloud to myself.

  “Don’t be so sure about that.”

  I turn around and see that it’s Anne.

  “Lincoln’s a fighter who’s not used to giving up,” Anne says.

  She pats me on the back. She’s always been quite touchy-feely, preferring to talk to people with her hands as much as her voice.

  “For once, I wish he would,” I say and leave the room.

  I need a cup of coffee.

  Right next door to the clinic is the Best Baked Coffee Shop. The workers there are so nice. Right now, I need a little kindness. Not to mention something to warm me up from the cold. I order a coffee, light with cream, two sugars. I sit by the window and check my phone.

  I’m in no rush. If Lincoln shows up, he can wait.

  I stand up and am ready to go back to the clinic.

  Then I look out the window and see Lincoln. His head is down as he walks slowly. His knee really doesn’t seem too bad. He maintains his balance, isn’t limping, and his stride is strong. He runs his right hand through his dark hair and stretches.

  What a hard-headed but hot guy he is. I know I shouldn’t think that about him, but I can’t help it.

  I sit back down and sigh.

  I’ll keep him waiting.

  One bad behavior deserves another.

  I stay for fifteen minutes and want to stay longer but I can’t.

  Even though it’s Lincoln Drake, I am still a professional.

  I grab his chart and enter the examination room.

  “How are you today?” I ask, without looking at him.

  “Good,” he says softly.

  He’s sitting on the examining table.

  I cross my arms and lean against the windowsill. I say nothing.

  “Amanda,” he says. He scratches his right pec. “I need to apologize.”

  “About what?” I ask.

  “About the other day,” he says and looks past me out the window. “About the way I treated you last time I was here.”

  Whatever, I think. I’m not playing his games. Hot athlete or not, I’m a trained medical professional.

  I’ve given my side of the story and everyone can see that I was being the logical, rational, professional one – well, except for lusting after his hot body, but who could blame me? – and he was the one being a big baby, so why should I forgive him?

  I stare at him for a moment and think.

  His knee.

  “You know,” I say, and walk toward him.

  “What?”

  “I saw you entering the clinic and your knee doesn’t really seem that bad.”

  “You saw me?” he asks, and then he smiles.

  Shit, I’ve given away the fact that I got a bit stalker-ish when it came to him. I saw him and I liked what I saw, so I kept looking – so sue me – but I’m not about to admit that to him.

  “I was merely studying you on an objective basis.”

  “Oh, I see,” he says and looks down.

  “Tell you what.”

  “What?”

  “Why don’t we start with an old-fashioned x-ray?”

  “But I’ve had an MRI and….”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of your prior prognosis.”

  He says nothing. Instead, he looks at me with a hangdog look. His face pleads with me.

  “Come with me,” I say.

  He follows me to the lab.

  “Bella,” I say to the technician.

  “Yes, Miss Amanda?”

  “Take an x-ray of Mr. Drake’s knee here. Front and back.”

  I turn to leave.

  “But what if…?” Lincoln starts to say as I let the door glide to a close behind me.

  Once the x-rays are developed, I go back to the examining room.

  Lincoln sits there on the table, looking small and frail.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Only everything.”

  “Now, now,” I say. “That’s not the spirit of a fighter. This could be the Christmas miracle you need. Try to think positively.”

  He hugs himself and looks down as I insert the x-rays on the illuminated screen.

  I study them for a few moments.

  “Hmmm,” I say.

  “What?”

  “Hmmm.”

  “What?”

  “Look here,” I say and point to the cartilage in his knee. “Sometimes MRIs can be deceiving, but this here,” I point again with the tip of my pen, “shows me there has been some healing.”

  “So, what’s that mean?” he asks and jumps off the table.

  He squints at the x-ray.

  I find him adorable.

  “It means,” I continue, “that I think I can work with you.”

  “You can?” he asks.

  He places his hands behind his head and cradles it.

  “Yes,” I say. “It will be intensive physical therapy but, if you agree to do it, I think we can get you in shape for the next bout.”

  “Are you serious?” he asks. He laughs and grabs my shoulders. “I could kiss you right now!”

  “Please don’t,” I say.

  He backs off.

  “Sorry.”

  “That’s fine.”

  It’s not that I don’t want him to. It’s that that would be bad news for my job, of course.

  “So when do we start?”

  “Tomorrow, nine A.M. sharp.”

  “I’ll be there,” he says and turns to leave.

  He places his hand on the doorknob, then turns back around.

  “Thank you for helping me,” he says.

  His does look truly grateful – I’ll give him that much.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I just want to thank you sincerely for helping me. If I were in your shoes, I’d tell me to go fuck myself.”

  “That’s OK,” I say.

&nbs
p; “No, really,” he says. “Thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome,” I say. “My job is to heal and not to judge. I don’t take anything personally.”

  He smiles.

  “And neither should I,” he pronounces, and then leaves.

  No, you shouldn’t, I think to myself.

  But you are quite the piece of work that I’m looking forward to wrestling with myself.

  Chapter 6

  Lincoln

  I meet Amanda in the gym of the physical therapy center. She’s just coming in and she looks gorgeous. She’s not wearing her scrubs but rather a t-shirt, tight shorts, sneakers, and a headband. My cock perks up as I stare at her gorgeous curves.

  I know this is going to be a real workout.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “Hi,” I say back.

  I move forward to hug her but then she steps back.

  “Sorry,” I say, “I just can’t help it.”

  She says nothing and motions toward one of the leg machines.

  “Hop on this,” she says.

  I do so and place my legs up and into position.

  She adjusts the weight.

  “Now start off, slowly,” she says.

  She throws a white towel around her neck and studies my legs as I pump back and forth.

  “This is kids’ stuff,” I say.

  “Not the point,” she says, not looking at me.

  I continue the exercises and don’t say much. I don’t want to offend her or be an asshole. I really like this girl. So, I keep my fuckin’ mouth shut.

  Besides, she’s working. I know it’s not quite the same thing, but I feel I’m watching her like you do when you see a service dog with its vest on that says, “Please don’t pet me. I’m a working dog.”

  I don’t think that would go over with her too well, but it’s really a compliment.

  I mean, she’s so professional and good and I’ve been a dick to her.

  I exercise in silence while she studies me for a while. I’m working hard. I really want to impress her.

  Finally, she puts her hand up.

  “OK, stop.”

  I do so.

  “Whew!” I say.

  I’m not really all that spent but the ole knee is feeling tight.

  “Let’s take a break.”

  “OK.”

  She hands me some gross veggie drink that I cringe at.

  “Drink it,” she says and pushes it in my direction again.

  “Gross.”

  She says nothing until, “Let’s sit outside.”

  The day is cool and sunny, for mid-November. It’s all baby blue skies and fast-moving clouds and the breeze. With her next to me, I feel like I’m dreaming.

  I take a sip of the gross squash and Brussel sprouts drink.

  “That’s fuckin’ disgusting!” I say.

  She says nothing.

  I look at her and smile.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “What?”

  She still ain’t lookin’ at me.

  “How about coffee sometime, to make up for this disgusting drink? Or maybe even lunch? At a burger joint?”

  She doesn’t look at me.

  “You know I can’t.” She pushes back her long dark hair behind her left ear. “That would compromise a professional relationship.”

  Damn it, I think to myself. I take another sip of the disgusting drink. I’m not used to being turned down. Usually I’m the one turning down the many women who flock to me. Amanda is a tough nut to crack, that’s for sure.

  But that just means that when I finally do, she’ll taste so good to eat because she’ll have been worth the wait and the effort. I haven’t even been able to look at another woman since I met her.

  “I just wanted to do something for you to let you know how much I appreciate you,” I tell her, in an apologetic tone, with a fake pout on my face that I know she sees because she smiles a little bit.

  I look away, across the street. A used car salesman is moving his arms up and down, pointing to a brand-new Jeep Grand Cherokee. He’s talking to some guy in a baseball hat and pink Izod shirt, with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “So, it’s a no?” I ask.

  “Not exactly,” she says.

  I brighten.

  “So, can we?” I ask.

  I feel like a kindergartner pestering his teacher for recess or his mom for a snack. I remind myself to act more chill. I look over at Mr. Pink Shirt, who storms away while the salesman runs after him.

  “Yes, but it would have to be professional,” she says. “I can’t date clients.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I say. “I knew that.”

  I pound down the rest of the drink. For something that’s initially so disgusting, it really isn’t that bad after a while.

  “OK,” she says. “Let’s get back to work.”

  I stand up.

  “Sure thing.”

  She starts walking back in the gym, then turns around.

  “Let’s talk after tomorrow’s session.”

  “Sure thing,” I say again.

  I follow her in and am willing to do anything she asks me.

  Especially now that I know she wants to date me, even though she claims it’s not going to be a date.

  I think that that’s just talk. Both she and I know better than to pretend, but since that’s what she wants to do, that’s what I’ll do.

  Chapter 7

  Lincoln

  The next day we meet for lunch at this little place in the West Village with an outside patio. It’s very simply called Pete’s Burger Joint. Simplicity must be its whole goal.

  I have no idea what to order since the options are so limited that it’s like, how many different ways can they dress up a hamburger and call it by some different name I can’t keep track of?, but I don’t say that to anyone out loud, because Amanda had chosen the place and I’ve told myself not to be a grump on this date. Or this not date.

  Still, I brought Rex along for emotional support. Although he’s not a service dog, I rely on the good nature of lots of places that let people bring their dogs in, which is why I was glad we were coming to this place with the outdoor patio.

  It had been my only request, and we had a plethora of options since no one wants to sit outside in the early winter in New York, but Amanda didn’t protest, which is a good sign. When she suggested this place, she said she liked the shakes here. They only have chocolate and vanilla, though, so I can’t see what there is to like.

  Rex is a good boy. Already so loyal to me for saving him, he sits, stands, waits, or lies down quietly whenever I tell him to. Plus, I think Amanda will fall for him and that’s to my benefit.

  Amanda shows up wearing jeans and a winter coat. She looks good. I can see her curves – she can’t hide them even under a wool jacket – and she has her hair up, curly and dark, looking casual but very cute. Of course her juicy ass is more tempting to me than any of the burgers on the menu and I wish I could bite into it.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “Hi.”

  She looks down.

  “And who is this?” she asks.

  “Rex,” I say. “But I’ve been calling him Rexie lately.”

  “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

  “I didn’t. Until the other day.”

  Rexie puts up his paw and Amanda shakes it.

  “Nice to meet you, good sir.”

  Rex pulls his paw back, yawns, and lies down at Amanda’s feet and falls asleep.

  She leans down and pats his head and neck.

  “He trusts you,” I say.

  “Really?” she asks.

  Rex whimpers and curls up even more tightly and soon starts snoring.

  Amanda looks up at me.

  “Like I said,” she says, as if to remind herself as well as me, while she moves slightly so as not to bother Rex. “This is business. You know, like going out for coffee with your professor to talk about your work.”

  “I wouldn�
��t know anything about that,” I say.

  This is more than just coffee, I want to tell her. This is burgers. And shakes. They may be the simplest ones on the planet, but they’re still more than just coffee.

  But I don’t want to push it too far and risk losing the date that’s just started. I remind myself to stay on my best behavior, something that has never been an easy task for me.

  I look down at Rex. I’m happy that he’s happy and that I’m here with Amanda.

  The server comes over.

  “How are you both today?” he asks.

  “Wonderful,” Amanda says and looks at me.

  “What can I get you?” he asks.

  Amanda orders a chocolate shake, raving about how good they are to the server, and I ask for just a Coke.

  “Sure thing,” he says and looks at me. “Would you like something to eat? We have some wonderful burgers.”

  “Sure,” I say, although I have to bite my tongue from saying, So I noticed, since that’s all you have here, other than the two flavors of shakes. “What about you, Amanda?”

  “I’m all set. Just wanted that shake.”

  She says it as if she’s trying to remain professional, as if ordering a burger with a patient she treats at the physical therapy center would be a cardinal sin.

  I order a Molten Lava burger, so named because it comes with fiery habanero peppers and pepper jack cheese and who knows what else.

  “That sounds good,” Amanda says, and I know she’s tempted.

  “Come on, have one with me,” I tell her. “It’s just a burger.”

  Not a wedding ring. Yet.

  “Alright,” she acquiesces, and then orders a regular Pete’s Burger.

  I guess she has simple tastes. But I like it.

  “Thank you!” the waiter says and turns to leave.

  “Someone really likes you,” Amanda says.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That waiter,” she says and lifts her chin in his direction. “He’s obviously gay and finds you attractive.”

  “Oh, come on,” I say.

  “No, it’s true.”

  “That’s fine,” I say.

  Lots of people like me. Men, women, gay, straight, bi — I don’t care. In fact, I like the attention.

  “But I do want you to like me as well,” I say.

  That’s all that really matters to me, now that I’ve met her.