Ghosts of the Past

BROOKE

I lead Luna away and lock her in my office before coming back to the exercise room.

“Okay, let’s take a look,” I say, kneeling on the ground to examine his foot. “The swelling in your leg and calf has gone down a bit. How’s the pain been?”

“All right,” he says, but I can tell by his voice he’s trying to play it off as nothing.

“Yup. That’s what they all say. But you’re a tough guy, right?” I joke, giving him a skeptical look. He smirks back at me.

“We’ll start with some ankle pumps today. These stretching exercises help to improve the upward and downward movements of the foot. They also help strengthen the muscles in the front of your shin.”

I take his foot in my hand and move it into the stretch as I continue to speak. “Point your toes upward like this—like you’re trying to touch your toes to the front of your shin.

“Hold this position for thirty seconds, and release. Repeat five times, then do the same thing but pointing downward, same length of time and same repetitions.”

He nods and I release his foot, watching him do the exercises on his own. “So do you have a dog yourself?” I ask.

“I wish, but between traveling all the time and long practices, I don’t have much time to take care of anything at home.”

“Yeah, that makes sense…” I say, kicking myself mentally for asking such a stupid question. Of course, I understand firsthand how busy a football player’s schedule can get. “So how do you know so much about dogs?”

“I was raised with dogs,” he says bluntly, with a straight face. I actually start to question his upbringing for a second, like he was raised by wolves or something, until a devious smile spreads on his face.

“I have two younger brothers, but we were still outnumbered by how many dogs we had running around.” He laughs, staring at my still-perplexed face. “My mom ran an animal shelter out of our house.”

“Oh,” I respond, as this finally starts making sense.

“We had a lot of land back in Oklahoma, so she built an animal shelter behind our house.”

I smile. “That is really admirable of her to do that.”

“Yeah, she met my dad that way. He worked for the City Animal Control Department, but it always killed him finding these lost scared dogs on the street.

“So he looked up local animal shelters and started bringing the dogs there so they wouldn’t have to be euthanized.

“My mom worked at the shelter in the city, and he started working with her secretly so he wouldn’t lose his job. Then they fell in love and moved out of the city to build their own shelter.”

“Wow,” I say, smiling bigger as my insides go warm and fuzzy, “that’s really a beautiful story.”

“Yup, you don’t find what they have too often,” he says with a heavy sigh.

“So, what got you into football then?” I ask, trying to change the subject since he seems kind of sad thinking about his parents.

“It was always the sport we played. My brothers and our dad,” he goes on. “I loved it, was good at it, and never stopped playing. Which…led me here.” He looks down at the stitches on his heel as he continues his ankle pumps.

“Have you given any thought to what you might do if you can’t go back?” I say without looking up at him, holding my breath, hoping it doesn’t start another outburst.

“No,” he responds firmly.

“What about the animal shelter?” I feel like I’m walking on eggshells.

“My brothers help run it; they don’t need me.” He keeps his tone firm.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find something.”

“I’m determined to go back,” he says, with a defensive snarl in his voice.

“Why?” I sigh in defeat and finally look up at his disgruntled face.

“Football has been my life ever since I was a kid.”

“There are other ways to include football in your life, though. You could be a coach, or a sports journalist, or a lot of retired players become announcers for—”

He interrupts me, sounding even firmer. “It will take a lot more than getting hurt for me to want to quit playing football.”

Not wanting to cause more frustration, I drop the topic and turn to pull out another piece of equipment. “So, this is a BAPS board,” I say, turning it around to show him.

“It’s used for increasing range of motion while also increasing neuromuscular control of the lower leg.”

I place it on the ground, bring his foot on top of it, and start gently moving his foot front to back, then side to side, making full circle motions while holding onto his knee to keep it stationary.

“Keep doing these motions without moving your knee. Ten reps each, three sets.” I release his leg, and he begins the exercises on his own.

“So, what about you?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“What about you?” he says again. His eyebrows are raised, like he knows I understood him the first time.

“There isn’t much to me,” I reply.

“I doubt that’s true. Let’s start with, where did you grow up?”

“Here,” I answer vaguely.

“Aaand…your parents?” He chuckles quietly to himself, trying to weasel more out of me. I never talk about myself or my past. It always leads to people looking down on me, taking pity on me, feeling sorry for my upbringing.

“Just my dad and I,” I reluctantly share, avoiding eye contact. “My mom left when I was a baby, so Dad raised me on his own.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes full of pity just like I expected.

“I’m not,” I insist, taking a deep breath in and finding my strength. “Why would I want someone in my life who doesn’t want me?”

We stop our conversation for a few minutes after that, not having anything left to say about the matter.

“So, football?” Colin finally says, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?” I look up at him.

“You said last time, you’ve been around football players your whole life…”

“Umm, well, my dad got me into football.”

“Did he play?”

“No. Well…actually, I’m not sure. Maybe when he was in high school. He never shared much with me. Watching football was the only time we really spent together. He ran his own auto body shop, so he worked a lot.”

“Was he the one who encouraged you to get into physical therapy?” Colin asks.

“No…I found that myself,” I say, keeping things vague.

“Well, I’m sure your dad is very proud of what you’ve accomplished,” Colin replies with a genuine smile. It makes me choke up instantly. I have to clear my throat to swallow down my tears.

“Th-thanks. He…passed away a few years ago from cancer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” I shrug it off and keep myself busy with his exercises.

“So,” says Colin, wincing as I rotate his foot, “how do you and Ashton know each other? He talked highly of you.” I immediately blush, and I can tell that my silence and red face give it away.

“What?” he says with a devilish smirk on his face. I stay quiet, cursing myself now that I have no way out of this conversation.

I don’t mind talking about Ashton exactly, but it leads down a road of personal information I don’t share with anyone. “Come on, tell me,” Colin coaxes, his smile getting larger.

“We used to date in college. It was nothing, and it was a lifetime ago,” I say, emphasizing ~lifetime~ even as I know I’m lying through my teeth.

As if Ashton meant nothing! As if any of the football players meant nothing! I was stupid enough to think each of those relationships would last forever, even high school jock asshole Josh.

Unfortunately, Colin and his cocky grin refuse to pick up the hint that I don’t want to talk about this. “Really…you and Ashton…hmm?” he says teasingly.

“What?” I bite back, offended by how surprised he seems.

“Nothing,” he says, pausing like he’s contemplating whether to add something more.

Apparently, he decides to say it. “So, you’ve dated a lot of football players? I take it that’s what you meant earlier, right?” My face flushes even harder; I’m certain I’m as red as a tomato.

He makes it sound like I made my way around an NFL roster! I’m not a slut, and I definitely don’t want him thinking otherwise. Knowing him, he’d spread that rumor around like a wildfire. “I am not a slut!” I shout.

“I didn’t say you were,” he states, but the smirk never leaves his face.

I have to defend myself and spill it all. “There haven’t been many...just three,” I blurt out. Then I start wondering, does three count as a lot? I’m not a football slut, am I?

“A high school quarterback, Ashton in college, and...a running back...does not qualify as a lot,” I say, carefully avoiding mentioning John’s name in my list. I fold my arms over my chest, sticking to my guns.

Scholtz stares back at me with an expression in his eyes that I haven’t seen before. I can’t quite read what he’s thinking. I doubt he’d ever be interested in anyone as boring and normal as me, but that’s what it looks like...interest.

“A-anyway, that’s all in the past now. A locked box,” I state. “I’ve sworn to myself, no more football players. Ever again!”

“Why?” he asks, looking intrigued now. I answer with a silent smirk, shaking my head to show that I won’t elaborate. “Oh, come on. I can take it.” Colin laughs, probably thinking I’m being dramatic.

“Fine! You ballers are all the same.” I look him dead in the eyes and start my rant. “You have one-track minds. Football is all that matters. The game, the fame, the glory, the stardom.”

“Really? Everyone? Me included?” Colin folds his arms, looking smug, as if he’s above all the assholes for some reason.

“YES!” I huff, because it’s obvious. But then I pause, thinking about Ashton and all he’s done for me. “Well, okay, maybe not all...Ashton wasn’t like that.” I emphasize his name, purposefully singling out Ashton as the only good one.

“If it wasn’t for him,” I add, “I probably wouldn’t have this company.”

“Not everyone is into the fame and stardom,” Colin says quietly.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. No more football players for me.” I break his gaze and sit up. “Okay, you can put your boot back on. I’m going to put you on the stationary bike for fifteen minutes.”

I walk toward the bike expecting him to follow, which he does. “Doing this maintains your cardiovascular fitness since you aren’t going to be as active as you normally are for a while.”

Colin hops on the bike, and I catch that he’s avoiding eye contact. “Do you need anything? Water?” I offer.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.” He pulls his headphones from his pocket and starts pedaling.

I’m not sure why I feel so awkward all of the sudden. “I’m going to enter your notes from today’s session and let Luna out quickly. Then I’ll come back and check on you, and we have one more exercise before you’re free.”

I don’t wait for him to respond before fleeing to the safety of my office.