“Mmm,” she said, not arguing.
She trailed her fingers across my chest, and I tried to forget that was how this had all gotten me started. If she kept it up, we might be going for a second round.
“So, why were you out of work today then?”
“Doctor’s appointment.”
“For your back?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to tell me the whole story?”
I blew out a breath. “Yeah. So, I went pro right out of college and qualified for the PGA my first year out. It was a pretty big deal. I mean, I know you followed some of it, but they thought, in a few years, I would be a shoo-in for a Masters win and maybe even the whole FedEx Cup.”
“I remember some of that. It was right when I started working for Wright.”
“Yeah. So, about two years into my career, I fucked up my back. All the doctors said there was no way I could play on it. I needed to drop out and go on medical exemption.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Nope. I played through the pain. Got doped up on pain meds the doctor prescribed and pushed through it.”
Her eyes snapped up to mine, wide and concerned. “That stuff is super addicting”
“I’m well aware.”
“Did you keep taking them?” she said, her face tightening. “Are you taking them now?”
I knew what that was about. That was about her old man. But I was not like him in that regard.
“No,” I told her. “It was a stupid mistake to keep going when I should have taken a break. I was so high on the game. I stopped taking the prescriptions and tried to heal in the off season. And I haven’t taken it since.”
“Never?” she asked.
“Nope. Not worth the risk.”
She nodded, relaxing against me again. “Good.”
“Anyway, fast forward three years. Something else tweaked in my back, but my doctor gave me the all clear after a couple of weeks. But this summer was the worst. I over rotated. I think I must have put all the pressure into my lower back, and that’s when it was all over. The doctor said I needed surgery and a minimum of a year recovery, and even then, I might never golf again, ending my career.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered, sitting up and staring at me with such shock and pity in her eyes. “So…you’re working for Wright because you don’t think you’ll ever golf again?”
“I have hope that I will be able to golf again, but I’m working for Wright while I’m in physical therapy to try to keep my mind from going crazy. I need something to focus on and something to believe in or else I worry that the mental part of my game will disintegrate if…when I return.”
“Shit,” she muttered. “That’s just…awful.”
“What’s worse is,” I said through gritted teeth, “when I got the news, instead of responding as you just did…as most normal human beings would, Miranda told me I couldn’t risk ending my career because of a little pain. I think her exact words were, ‘Fuck integrity.’”
Heidi winced. “How awful.”
“Yeah. Then I caught her telling one of her friends that she didn’t want to have kids after we spent the last year in marriage counseling after she miscarried. I’d been planning to divorce her before she got pregnant, but I tried to make it work. Then it was just a slap in the face.”
“Wow,” Heidi whispered. “Was that right before the reunion?”
I nodded. “That’s when I left her. She’d used up her last chance with me, and I was done. Then, there you were.” I stroked her hair out of her face. “My little firecracker. And I realized how stressful my life had become and how much I was hurting emotionally, mentally, and physically. But you and I had always been right. We had always been open and honest with each other. Our connection ran deep. And, suddenly, everything in the world made sense. I wanted you and only you.”
Twenty-One
Heidi
My eyes fluttered open to see the early afternoon light streaming in through Landon’s window. I was disoriented for a half second before remembering everything that had gone on last night. Holy hot sex!
I yawned and stretched out, curling into Landon’s side. He was lying on his back with his head turned toward me. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing softly. He looked so peaceful, as if all the worries in the world had fallen off of his shoulders. And, after hearing him talk last night about losing golf, it legitimately felt like the world rested firmly on his shoulders. To be so young, and he’d already had his dreams ripped away from him. It weighed on him in a way that even I couldn’t realize.
I’d known about the injuries, but the extent of it all was horrifying. Career ending were not words that any athlete wanted to hear.
Landon’s arm wrapped neatly around my waist and pulled me in close. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” I murmured.
He peeked an eye open. “You look gorgeous in the morning.”
I laughed. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”
“Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Mmm,” he said noncommittally as he leaned over to give me a kiss. He stopped halfway through the motion and rocked back into the bed. “Shit.”
“What?” I asked, concerned.
“Uh…nothing.”
“Nothing, huh?”
“I just…think I did something to my back last night.”
“You think, or you did?” I worried away at my bottom lip.
His eyes said it all. “I did, but it’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“Do you need help? Or, like, Tylenol?”
He cringed and then slowly eased into a sitting position. “I guess we were a little too vigorous last night.”
I grinned. “You could say that.”
“It was probably when I lifted you.”
“Oh, shit. Yeah,” I muttered. I hadn’t known the extent of his injuries then, or I wouldn’t have allowed that to happen in the first place. I swatted at his arm. “You need to take better care of yourself. Jesus. Let me get you something. What do you have?”
“There’s some Tylenol and a muscle relaxer over the toilet if you want to grab me some along with a glass of water.”
I hopped up and hurried to the kitchen to get him some water before entering the bathroom. I felt a little silly, digging around in his medicine cabinet, but he’d told me to after all. My eyes landed on the little row of prescription medicines. I took out a few Tylenol and then found the muscle relaxer as well.
“Find it?” Landon asked.
“Yep. It’s right here.”
I snapped the cabinet door and walked back into the bedroom.
“Here you go,” I said, handing him the pills and water.
“Thanks.” He tossed them back and downed the water. “I think I’m dehydrated, too.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “Did you have anything to do with that?”
I edged back into bed and grinned. “Nope. Not me.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked, nuzzling into my neck.
“Because I was totally involved.”