12. Catherine

12

CATHERINE

I can’t sleep because I can’t stop replaying the night in my head. I should probably figure out what I’m going to do about Jeremy—I can’t keep seeing him—but that’s not what is on the forefront of my mind. Nope, all I’m thinking about is how wonderful it was hanging out with my son, Holden, and his family.

At one point, I sat back while everyone was playing the game and just soaked it all in. This is what I hoped for my son to have. This is the kind of family nights I wish he had. Everyone was laughing, having fun, joking around with each other. The night was perfect.

I walk into the kitchen and turn on the low light, trying to be quiet. Holden and Cole are asleep, and I don’t want to wake them up just because I can’t sleep.

I pull open the fridge and grab a bottle of water. When I shut the door, I jump and let out a squeal after seeing Holden standing behind the once open door.

“You okay?”

With my hand to my chest, I try to calm my breathing. “Yeah, I’m fine. You scared me.”

He walks across the kitchen, putting the island between us. “Sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me either… why couldn’t you sleep?”

He puts his hand to his shoulder and grimaces. He’ll never admit it out loud, so I shake my head. “You’re hurting, aren’t you?”

He grunts and lifts his shoulders in a shrug.

“Really? Answer me, Holden, instead of grunting and groaning.”

When he remains silent, I ask, “Did you throw the ball tonight in the game with your family?”

“I did not throw the ball,” he assures me.

He’s hiding something, though. He was standing with Chrissy when I got here, but maybe he played before then. “What did you do, Holden?”

He lets out a laugh. “I may have hit a few balls— ”

I start to cut him off, but he continues. “I was helping Cole with his batting.”

I stomp my foot. “Really? What part of resting your arm do you not understand? I’m trying to get your arm ready, and you don’t want a setback.”

Once I get started, I can’t stop. I keep rambling on, and he’s just sitting on the stool with a smile on his face.

“What? What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He juts his chin at me. “You’re cute when you get all riled up.”

I groan in frustration. “Do you need a pain pill?”

He holds his hands up and shakes his head. “Nope, no pain pills.”

I haven’t been able to get him to take any of his pain pills, so I know what I need to do. I tap him on the shoulder. “Fine, take your shirt off and sit down at the table. I’ll be right back.”

I walk downstairs to the therapy room. I grab the massage ointment and the gua sha tool so I can do some scraping therapy.

When I get back into the kitchen, he’s in the same spot I left him in. “I’m fine. I don’t need any— ”

“Forget it. Let’s go, mister. Shirt off and in the chair. I’m not going to let you set yourself back. Let me do this.”

His jaw tightens, and I half expect him to refuse, but he finally gets up. As he walks toward the table, he takes his shirt off. I watch as his muscles ripple and clear my throat when he turns around to look at me.

“Sit,” I insist.

He sits down, and I add ointment to my palms and then rub my hands together to warm it up. I barely touch his shoulder and he groans. I make a point to work his muscles, and when I can feel him loosen up, I use the scraper. His satisfied groans turn into painful moans, but I don’t lighten up. “You’ll probably bruise, Holden. I can feel the knots forming already.”

He doesn’t answer; he just lets me work my magic.

He’s quiet as I work, and when I notice he has his eyes clenched, I ask him, “You okay?”

His brown eyes open and stare up at me with so much turmoil. “You think I should call it quits?”

I lay the scraper down and then go and grab a dish towel to clean him up. “I thought we talked about this. The plan is for you to go back and then decide whether you’re going to stay or not.”

He doesn’t try to hide the worry in his face. “I hit a few balls and look at me. The pain is overwhelming. I can’t continue like this.”

After I clean the ointment off his shoulder, I sit down in the chair next to him. “I know it’s frustrating, Holden. I need you to give me time. It’s a strain, and it needs time to heal.”

He's giving me a skeptical look, and I'm trying not to get frustrated. I understand how he feels, but mindset is half the battle. “If you don’t believe you’re going to get better, you won’t.”

“But—”

I shake my head and cut him off. “No, seriously, I need you to get rid of the negative thoughts. I need you to picture yourself playing in the playoffs. Getting outs, making plays, and hitting bombs.”

With that, he smiles. “Bombs, huh?”

I shrug. “Is it called something different in the major leagues? That’s what Cole and his friends call home runs.”

He nods at me. “No, that’s right. We call them bombs too. I just thought it was cute when you said it.”

I lean back in my chair. The fact he’s attractive and that he is good to my son makes him even harder to resist. I have to keep reminding myself that this is my job, and I can’t screw it up… no matter how handsome and charming the patient is.

Holden slides his hand across the table, and right before he touches my hand, he stops. I stare at the small space between our fingers and wait.

He clears his throat. “How about you? How was your date?”

His question jars me, and I pull my hand back. “Fine.”

He laughs. “Fine? That’s what you said earlier. I don’t think it was fine. You seemed, I don’t know, frazzled when you got home earlier.”

When I remain silent, he asks worriedly, “Did something happen?”

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. If I was working from the office, I could talk to my friends during lunch about this. I haven't had a chance to talk to them, and I really need to talk to someone. Without even thinking, I just blurt it out to him. Before I realize it, I have told him the whole sordid story. I told him about Jeremy ignoring me, about dancing with Clark and his proposition, and how I put my heel into his foot for him to release me .

“Who the fuck is Clark? What’s his last name?”

He’s so mad his whole body is tense. Every muscle in his chest is pulled tight, and I can feel the anger radiating off him. “It’s fine. Trust me, you should be worried about his foot where I stomped it. I’m fine.”

“He shouldn’t have… fuck, Cat, what did Jeremy do?”

I never expected this reaction from Holden. I’m so surprised by the anger in his voice, I answer him without even thinking. “He didn’t want me to offend Clark… he’s like vice president of the company or something. I don’t know.”

He scoots his chair back, and the loud screech fills the room. “That mother fucker… Are you kidding me right now? He didn’t kick Clark’s ass? Well, fuck it, I will. Where do Jeremy and Clark work?”

I suck in a breath and just stare at him. I’ve known Holden Gray a little over a week, and already he’s more protective of me than any man has ever been. I can feel the tears forming in my eyes, and if I blink, they’re going to run down my cheeks.

He leans forward and wraps his hand around my forearm. “Cat, where can I find this Clark? And fuck, Jeremy too, because I want to both tear their faces off.”

I cover his hand and squeeze it. “Holden, stop. It’s not your problem. I’m fine. I took care of it myself.”

He reaches his other hand up to my face, cupping my chin. “You shouldn’t have to. Do you know that, Cat? You shouldn’t have to take care of yourself. No man should be able to touch you if you don’t want them to. Your boyfriend shouldn’t let any other man touch you.”

“Holden, stop. I’m okay. I’m okay,” I keep telling him, but he doesn’t let go of me, and he doesn’t seem to calm down any. He scoots his chair toward me and he pulls me to him until our foreheads are resting against each other.

He’s taking deep breaths, and I pull back. “Holden, you’re too upset about this… it’s not a big deal.”

He grabs my hands and holds on to them. “It’s a huge deal, Cat. Don’t you get it? You deserve to be treated with respect, and if this Clark… this Jeremy… doesn’t get that, then someone needs to explain it to them.”

A tear rolls down my cheek because I can’t hold it back any longer. I’ve never had someone make me feel the way Holden does. It feels good to have someone on my side. I tighten my hold on his hand. “I won’t see Clark again, so I don’t need to worry about him… plus that was handled. As for Jeremy, I’ll take care of it.” He starts to say something, and I stop him. “And if I need your help, I’ll tell you.”

He doesn’t like it. He wants to argue with me about it, but he doesn’t do it. “Okay, Holden. I’m fine, I promise. Please just forget this… I appreciate you… I really do, but I’m okay.”

He’s looking at me, searching my face, and when he focuses on my lips, I wonder if he’s going to kiss me. For just a second, I’m about to lean in, and then I catch myself. I’m his physical therapist, and no matter how nice he is, he’s a player. Absolutely nothing will come of this. I can’t let it.