“Box ticker,” I filled in the blank but then immediately regretted it. “That sounded so much dirtier than I’d planned, which is gross because we’re talking about my brother.”
We both chuckled.
“Yes, Bentley is my box ticker, so my loyalties are torn.”
“Loyalties?” Bentley had always been my biggest supporter and protector. I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be happening that would make Maisy feel like she had to pick sides?
“Never mind.” She shook her head as she picked up more fries and lifted them to her mouth.
Unfortunately for her, I had cat-like reflexes and a long reach. I swatted them away before they reached her lips. “No! Huh-uh! You can’t just drop a loyalties bomb and then retreat. Spill.”
“I mean, you’re going to find out sooner or later,” Maisy reasoned. I wasn’t sure if she was saying it to convince herself or me.
My stomach dropped. I couldn’t imagine any scenario when my brother would have done anything to hurt or embarrass me, but from the way that Maisy was acting, that is exactly what he’d done. “What did Bentley do?”
“He offered to let Holden stay at his condo and asked him to keep an eye on you.”
I heard the information my friend had just given me, but it took me a moment to process what she’d said.
“Holden…he…what?” I said nonsensically.
“Please don’t be mad at your brother,” Maisy rushed out. “He’s been really worried about you since he moved in with me. He wouldn’t rent out the unit because he was scared to move the wrong people next door. He’s even driven by your place after he knows you’ve been out to make sure you got home. He loves you, he’s just a little… overprotective.”
I hadn’t heard a word she said after Holden stay at his condo. But I was sure I must’ve heard that wrong, so I clarified. “Holden is moving into the duplex?”
“He already did.” She said slowly as if she was breaking news to me, which she was. “Last night.”
“Holden was there last night? He spent the night there?”
Her brow furrowed. “As far as I know, why?”
“He was there this morning?”
“I mean, yeah, I think so, why? What’s wrong?”
“Remember that naked yoga I did? Well, I did it in my backyard.”
“Oh, okay,” she nodded, still not understanding.
“The backyard that is visible from the bedroom in Bentley’s side of the condo… where presumably Holden is.”
“Oh.” My friend’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped as awareness dawned on her, but she had a fast recovery. She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sure he didn’t see anything. Bentley said Holden looked really tired when he left, and he drove all the way from California, so I’m sure that he slept in.”
I nodded and she continued talking, totally oblivious to my inner freak out. I wasn’t sure how to process the information that she’d just given me. Holden Reed was living next door to me and he’d promised my brother that he’d “keep an eye on me.” I would’ve liked a whole lot more than his eyes on me. I’d been open to new opportunities coming my way, and the universe had delivered in a big way.
If I wasn’t going to have my happily-ever-after with Holden that didn’t mean I couldn’t be friends with him. The sort of friends that may or may not have benefits. It wasn’t the worst idea in the world to try and get him out of my system.
The truth was, no mortal man could possibly live up to the near superhuman status I’d built Holden up to in my mind and heart. He was just a normal human being. A mortal. Not some superior sexual being. Chances were that getting to know him again, and, dare I even think it, sleeping with him would take some of the shine off of his untarnished reputation in my mind.
I doubted he’d be open to becoming BFFs again, but I knew that I could use his proximity and the knowledge that I did have about him to my advantage. A plan quickly formulated in my head for how I might be able to make that happen. I just needed a little help…
Chapter 9
Holden
“Ya’ll know that continuous improvement is better than delayed perfection.”
~ Maggie Calhoun
The sun was shining, my windows were down, and I was blasting Tim McGraw’s newest single as I drove past Old Man Spratt’s field on the way home after my PT appointment. I hadn’t been looking forward to meeting another doctor, but I’d been pleasantly surprised with Dr. Jake Weston, my new physical therapist. He was a young guy, probably around my age, and he specialized in sports rehab. He’d worked with Olympic athletes, and professional football, baseball, basketball, and hockey stars.
His focus was on a more holistic approach, one that included diet, lifestyle, and gave just as much weight to mental well-being as it did to the physical. During my appointment, he’d talked to me about something called radical acceptance. It was basically the practice of accepting things the way they were without judgment. He said it had helped countless athletes whose careers had been cut short by injury.
Basically, it was all about perspective. My accident happened. I needed to accept that without attaching any emotion or value to it. Negative or positive. His belief was that finding peace of mind was imperative to my recovery. Without it, it would be nearly impossible to heal my body.
What he’d said had definitely made me think. I wasn’t sure if I could actually get to that place. But if someone were able to practice radical acceptance, I could definitely see the benefits.
The song cut out when a call came in. I glanced down at the display screen on the dash and saw that Kurt was calling. My first instinct was to ignore it, especially since he’d instructed me to answer the phone when he called. My family used to joke that if they wanted me to do something the easiest way to get me to do it was tell me to do the opposite. But I wasn’t a rebellious teenager, I was a grown man.
“Hey,” I answered on the third ring.
“How did it go?”
“It was fine.” Jake had mentioned that he’d spoken to my doctors in California, so he was basically just continuing my treatment. The facility wasn’t quite as state of the art, but I didn’t need all the bells and whistles.
“Do you think it’s going to work with Dr. Weston? I can look for someone else, but you might have to go into Dallas.”
As much as I appreciated Kurt’s hard work and loyalty, I knew that we needed to have a conversation. Kurt had represented me since I was fourteen years old, he was like family. But there weren’t going to be any more competitions or endorsements. Our professional relationship was over.
“You really don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do. It’s my job.”
“We both know that I’m never gonna ride again.”
I waited for him to argue with me like he had right after I got hurt. He’d tell me miracle stories of people that died and came back to life or overcame worse injuries than I’d sustained. I wasn’t sure if he’d been trying to make me, or him, feel better.
But at this point, I wasn’t the only one who needed to have a little radical acceptance in their life.