PDA

COLIN

The next few weeks fly by in absolute bliss. Brooke’s walls are gone and she’s let me in, not only into her heart but into her family. It’s been the three of us, me, Brooke, Sydney—and Luna, who is still a big troublemaker.

On Monday, Brooke and I decide to do some therapy outside in the park. That way we can sneak a few little kisses and touches in between exercises, the kind of stuff Brooke’s always too professional to allow in the office.

It’s blissful—right up until Luna takes off after a skunk and gets sprayed. Then we spend the rest of the hour with eyes watering from the stench, searching for somewhere to hose her down.

Do we get much done that day? No, not really. But I’m fine taking my sweet time in recovery now. It’s unlikely I’ll get back to playing this season no matter what, so I might as well enjoy the ride.

Brooke says we’ve moved onto phase three in my therapy, which I don’t really understand, but I’m happy to be doing a lot more with my foot and leg. She’s even stopped her constant nagging about me putting weight on my foot.

I’m also happy I can throw her over my shoulder and take her to bed without feeling any sharp pain. So, yeah, everything’s pretty awesome.

“Hey Julie, how are you?” I say as I walk into the office for my next session. It’s the week before Christmas now, and I can tell everyone’s a little stressed.

“Oh, hey Colin. I can’t wait for this day to be over!” Julie sighs.

“Is everything all right?” I ask, concerned.

“I think I’ve woken the beast today,” she says shyly. “I got the schedules mixed up and…may have…accidentally…overbooked her.”

“Oh, well hey, I don’t have to come in today if that frees up her schedule a little bit.”

“No, no, I just double-booked her this morning and didn’t give her a lunch break, so the damage is done. Maybe you can make her feel better!” Julie says with googly eyes.

Brooke has been strict about keeping things professional in the office, but I get the sense that Julie suspects something. The woman has a radar about this stuff.

“Is she running behind still?” I ask as an idea occurs to me.

“Yeah, she’ll probably be ten more minutes…sorry.”

“No worries, I’ll be right back.” Heading out, I get back in my car and head down the street to one of Brooke’s favorite lunch spots.

I order one of her favorites: a Greek salad with grilled chicken and a Green Life smoothie. How she can drink a shake with parsley, cilantro, cucumber, celery, broccoli, green apple, and spinach in it, I don’t know, but she loves it.

I head back ten minutes later to find Brooke standing at the receptionist’s desk talking to Julie. Right away I notice her puffy, slightly red cheeks, and I can tell she’s been rubbing her face way too much today.

But the second she sees me, it’s like a fresh shower has just washed it all away. God, it makes me so happy seeing her stress leave her body like that, and I love seeing how happy she is around me.

“Lunch for you, my lady,” I say jokingly, bowing like a butler, and when my face comes up to meet hers again, the smile beaming off her beautiful face is euphoric.

“You brought me lunch?” she says. She looks so happy, you’d think I was proposing marriage instead of offering lean protein.

“I heard you’ve had a stressful day, and I wanted to make it better,” I say, taking a few steps toward her.

“Just seeing you has made it better.” We’re both in our own little world, and then she cups my face and kisses me right there. I let myself get lost in it for a minute but then pull back.

Julie is sitting at the desk right behind us, and I know Brooke hasn’t wanted any PDA in the office. Brooke blinks at me with a dazed smile, but then she seems to remember where we are.

Both our heads shoot right to Julie, whose eyes are bulging, her mouth hanging open. Maybe she didn’t know about our relationship after all. Oops.

“WHAT THE HELL!” she says. “You guys are together, and you didn’t tell me?” I can practically feel her sending her wrath in our direction.

“Sorry…” is all Brooke can muster around the rosy-cheeked smile that she can’t seem to get rid of.

“You owe me a night out and a drink to discuss this!” Julie points her finger back at Brooke.

We walk toward her office with our arms wrapped around each other, and it feels amazing to be close to her like this without worrying who sees.

When she stops at the exercise room, I shake my head. “Babe, we don’t have to do therapy today. Just relax in your office and eat your lunch.”

“No! I don’t want you falling behind, especially with Christmas and New Year’s coming, the office will be shut down.”

“You can teach me some things at home, I’m fine.”

“Nope! For the next few sessions, you need to use the equipment here.”

I give her a stern look, but she just gives me back a longer, sterner look. I don’t argue with this woman; she’s too powerful!

“All right, stretching first. Thirty, thirty-second wall calf stretches,” she says, talking with her mouth full of lettuce. “Sorry, my mouth’s full,” she mumbles.

“I’ve seen your mouth full before,” I say with a wink. She blushes, then smacks my ass as punishment. I’d take it any day.

By the time I’m done with the stretches, she’s just about done chewing. “Okay, next is training with inversion and eversion with added weight. Sit down on the bench and place this towel under your foot,” she says, and I do so.

Next, she puts a five-pound kettlebell weight on the towel. “Using only your foot, drag the towel to gather it on one side. Once it’s fully gathered, stretch it out again and do it three times.

“Each week, we’ll increase the amount of weight as long as you’re still feeling okay. This will put strain on your heel muscles, so elevating and icing are crucial to reduce swelling.”

It does hurt more than I was expecting, but in a weirdly good way. No way I’m backing down from more weight next week, not unless I’m actively dying.

Next, she takes out the BAPS board, a wobbly disc we’ve worked with a few times before. “Balance training,” she explains, coming back over to me.

“We’ll start out simple and get more complex. There are a lot of different stances—double-leg, tangent, single-leg, leaning over, and eventually we’ll add catching a football for reactive development.”

She gets on the board and demonstrates how to rotate on it by keeping a steady stance, doing simple moves to start with.

“Never thought you’d let me touch a football again,” I say, teasing her. She smiles with another mouthful of food and chews before she talks.

“You’re getting there. I think a month from now you’ll be ready for plyometrics,” she says with a smirk. I have no idea what the hell that means.

“What the hell does that mean?” I question, making her laugh.

“It’s more functional exercises specifically designed for athletes to increase power. Like for example, progressing from lateral hopping to multidirectional and diagonal jumps while keeping track of the number of foot contacts you have.

“These are exercises to make sure you’re ready before you go back to all the advanced movements you’ve been accustomed to on the field.

“You have to progress slowly from walking to running, in a single plane to a figure-eight pattern, then a z-cutting pattern.

“Sprinting can start with short distances, and then we’ll practice at the park or a field, do some catching, dodging and weaving, and more football-specific activities.”

Hearing all this makes me super excited for the next steps. I do still really want to go back to what I was doing before all this happened. To move freely again without worrying about each step I take.

You don’t realize how functional your body is until it’s not mobile anymore, and that’s a horrible feeling, trust me.

“The final stage is a sports test to assess your recovery. That will be the telltale sign if you’re ready to go back to playing again,” Brooke concludes.

She really meant what she said that day after she spent Thanksgiving with me and my family. She does want me to go back to playing, knowing that’s where my heart lies.

I can tell it scares the shit out of her. We’ve talked about it a few times in these last few weeks, since the night when I threw a tantrum over my swollen foot and Brooke nearly had a panic attack about it.

Brooke’s told me she can’t help worrying that I’ll leave once this is all over, once I’ve recovered, once I can go back to playing. Just like Ashton.

Or, that I won’t recover, and I’ll resent her for it, and abandon her as I chase after a fading dream of football stardom. Just like John.

But I told her that night, and I’ll tell her as many times as she needs to hear it: I’m not fucking going anywhere. She’d have to drag my dead body out to get rid of me. I’m here for the long run, and I want her to believe that.

“Hey,” I say once I’m done with my cooldown, sliding onto the floor and pulling her onto my lap. “You’ll get me there, I know you will.

“Now, in the meantime, tomorrow starts the weekend. Why don’t the three of us do something fun together, huh?”

I don’t know what I just said wrong, but Brooke’s face goes blank.

“Today is Thursday! Shit!” she says, hopping off me and dashing out to Julie’s desk. I follow as quickly as I can.

“Julie,” she says urgently, “when’s my last appointment?”

“Umm, four, why?” Julie responds hesitantly. I’m sure she’s wondering if she did something wrong again.

“Shit! It’s Thursday! Syd gets out early,” she says, rubbing her face. After the salad and the kissing mellowed her out a bit, I can see all her stress flooding back.

“I’m sorry, Brooke, shoot!” Julie says nervously.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” I say, peeling Brooke’s hands from her face.

“I can’t pick up Syd from school. On Thursdays, they get let out early so the teachers have planning and conference time. UGH! I hate that new rule!” she says, throwing her head back.

“What time? I’ll get her,” I say easily, making Brooke’s head bob back down to look at me.

“Are—are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Ohhh,” she says, taking a huge breath of relief and pulling me into a hug. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She nuzzles her head into my chest, and I couldn't be happier to help.