Last Chance To Fight (3 page)

“Good. I need the practice for when I kick your ass at the championship,” I said, smacking him on the back.

“We’ll see if you even get there, old man,” Jake said, dropping his duffel bag on the floor. “If I recall correctly you’ve got to win a semi-final and a final to get there first.”

“Oh, I’ll get there,” I said. “You can count on it.”

“Well, I hope you do,” Jake said. “I’d love to kick your ass and get paid for it for once, instead of doing it here for free all the time.”

“Jake, you seem confused,” I said. “I wonder if maybe I’ve hit you in the head too many times. Kick my ass? I don’t think so. But you’re right about the getting paid part.”

Winning the heavyweight tournament and then taking on Jake for the championship title would definitely be great for my ego, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about the prize money. I was doing fine for myself at the moment. Actually, I would have been fine with much less, but I had other people to think about. The prize money could help my mom pay off her mortgage, for one thing. I had wanted to take that load off her back for years, and now that I was close to being able to do it, I was determined.

“All right. Well, you two have fun,” Trina said. “And don’t forget your physical therapy appointment this afternoon Hunter. New therapist, remember.”

“Oh, right. Man, it’s a bummer about Oliver,” I said, remembering suddenly the change of plans. Trina had told me a few weeks ago that Oliver was leaving town and I’d have to get a new physical therapist. I wasn’t happy about it. After all, Oliver was the one who’d gotten me walking, and then running again, after I’d hurt myself. I didn’t want to have to get used to someone else this close to the tournament. But I guess I didn’t have any choice.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got someone good for you. At the Spenser Clinic, so you know she’s good,” Trina said.

“She, huh? Interesting,” I remarked. “You sure she’s going to be up for the job?”

“Oh please,” Trina said, rolling her eyes. “Did you know that women can do all kinds of things these days? We can even vote.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, part of Oliver’s job was to cause me extreme pain several times a week. That’s how you know it’s working. Are you sure she’ll be strong enough?”

“Well, you’ll find out this afternoon. I’ll just tell her what you said and I’m sure she won’t mind hurting you,” Trina said. “Now, I’ll leave you two to have your little play-fight and I’ll be back to give you a ride in a few hours. OK?”

“All right, Trina,” I said.

“Bye, T,” Jake said, leaning in to give her a kiss.

“Come on, Jake,” I said. “Don’t let her soften you up before I beat the snot out of you. It’s not as fun that way.”

A
fter going into my new office for a few hours, then going home to unpack and have a little something to eat, I fell asleep from utter exhaustion pretty much as soon as my head hit the pillow. The next morning I woke up early with the hope of going through my new patient files before work and getting started with their treatment plans.

I had gotten through about half of them, along with my breakfast, by the time I had to get ready and leave for work. I would have liked to have been more prepared, but I figured I could look over the others on my lunch break and it wouldn’t be a problem.

I put on my work clothes: a pair of black yoga pants, running shoes, and a new blue T-shirt with the Spenser Clinic logo on it. One thing I liked about my new job was that I didn’t have to think too much about what to wear to work. The outfit had to be comfortable and functional, and that was about it.

The first half of my work day went really well. I met with my new patients, listened to their stories, and started their treatments. I usually spent the first half hour massaging their legs or shoulders or backs, trying to work out the scar tissue and excess fluid from around their injuries. This was usually quite painful for the patients, so getting a massage from a physical therapist is not quite like getting a relaxing massage at a spa. But, despite some complaints about that, my new patients seemed happy and a few even said they felt better after our session. Not bad for my first day on the job.

When it came time for a break, I grabbed my remaining patient files and headed to the first floor of the building, where there was a small café I thought I’d try for lunch. I ordered a grilled chicken salad and started looking through the files, making notes. Everything was going smoothly until I got to my last patient of the day, and almost spit out my food.

The name Hunter Finn stood out like a sore thumb at the top of the file. I looked at it again, staring at the page in absolute disbelief. Was I seeing things? Did that say really say Hunter Finn? Hunter Finn, the man I loved with all my heart in high school, but had not spoken to in nine whole years? Could it really be the same person?

He had the same name, certainly, and although it was an unusual name it wouldn’t be unbelievable for someone else to be named Hunter Finn. It could just be a coincidence. I flipped through the file, looking for more clues. Hunter Finn, my new patient and hopefully not my ex-boyfriend, I learned, had a broken ankle from a sports injury about a year ago. He’d been doing physical therapy for the past nine months at another clinic.

Well then,
I thought,
that would have to be a pretty big coincidence.
Thanks to the internet and my never-ending curiosity about Hunter’s life, I knew more or less what he’d been up to for the past nine years. I knew that he’d become a pretty successful MMA fighter. And I knew that he was slated to win the championship last year, but had to pull out of the competition at the last minute because of an injury. Specifically: a broken ankle. This had to be the same person. Hunter Finn, my old flame, was now my new patient. I thought I was going to be sick.

I stood up quickly from the table and gathered my files, not at all sure what I should do. What could I do? I wanted to leave, to run away. But of course I couldn’t do that. It was my first day on the job. I wanted to make a good impression. What would they think if I just disappeared? They probably wouldn’t think much. They’d just fire me. Leaving was not an option. I was just going to have to face him. I took a deep breath, and then another. I steeled myself, and headed back to the elevator.

After all, I had wanted to see him again anyway. I’d be fooling myself if I didn’t admit that had at least
some
thing to do with why I wanted to move back to L.A. in the first place. But this? I wasn’t ready for this. I looked down at what I was wearing. It could have been worse, I supposed. At least the pants and shirt fit well. And I didn’t think blue was such a bad color on me. But still, it would have been better to see him again after nine years wearing something killer, with my makeup done perfectly, my hair expertly styled. I wanted to knock his socks off. As it was, he was going to have to take his socks off himself so that I could massage his ankle. Oh God, how on earth was I going to get through this?

You’re just going to have to do it
, I said to myself.
You’ve beaten cancer. This should be easy.

Back in the office, I tried to focus my energy on my next three patients. We worked on their treatments and exercises, and all the while I did my best to ignore the butterflies in my stomach and the clock ticking closer and closer to four-thirty, when Hunter would show up, my last patient of the day.

I was still with Julie, a young college student who’d snapped a tendon in her knee playing field hockey, when I spotted his unmistakable figure walking through the door. He looked perfect in his workout clothes. His tight white T-shirt highlighted his broad shoulders and perfectly sculpted arms. I felt myself go weak in the knees at nothing more than the sight of him.

And then, right behind him, a woman came in the door. She looked professional, in a blue blazer and tight black jeans. She walked up to the desk and gestured toward Hunter as she spoke to Kathy, the receptionist. Kathy gestured to the waiting area and Hunter sat down. The woman put her hand on his shoulder, said something, then waved goodbye with a smile as she walked out the door. She was annoyingly beautiful.

If I thought just seeing Hunter again was going to be hard, seeing him again with another woman was even harder. I racked my brain for a way to escape, and turned to my patient.

“I think that’s enough for today, Julie. Keep doing these exercises at home and I’ll see you next week, OK?” I said, amazed that I was even still able to use my voice, what with the nervous commotion going on in my mind and the pit of my stomach.

Before Julie could answer, I hurried through the back door of the office and into the hallway. In a blind panic at this point, I ran into the women’s room, out of all other ideas. At least I’d be safe in there for a minute. I needed to calm myself down. I looked in the mirror.

“You can do this. You can do this,” I said out loud to my reflection. 

But then I remembered Hunter. Hunter and what had to be his girlfriend, or, God, even his wife, for all I knew. No, no. I couldn’t do this. I would just have to go back in there and tell Kathy that I wasn’t feeling well. I had to go home. I would only miss one client. It wouldn’t be a huge deal, right?

I swung open the bathroom door with a determined push, and almost knocked over the person standing outside.

“Oh, excuse me,” I said.

“No problem, Anna,” said a familiar voice, and I found myself staring into a pair of startlingly clear eyes. Eyes that I knew so well. 

“Oh God,” I whispered. “It’s you.”

F
rom the moment the receptionist told me my therapist’s name was “Anna” and she’d be with me in a moment, I thought of her. Not that I even considered my therapist would really be
the
Anna, because as far as I knew she was still in Australia. But even after all these years, those four little letters sent a spike straight into my heart. That’s why when I sat down and saw her across the room, at first I thought I was seeing things. For the first few years after she left, I thought I saw Anna all the time. I’d see a flash of long brown hair and my heart would start to pound, thinking she’d come back. After a while I finally gained control over myself and stopped seeing her face in every young brunette that passed me by. That is, until now.

But this time, it was really her. As soon as she looked at me and practically ran out of the room, I knew it had to be her. The real Anna Blakesley. I had no idea what crazy act of fate it took to bring us together like this—and how long had she been back in L.A. anyway?—but I didn’t have time to think about that. If she was running away from me, I wasn’t going to let her. I got up just in time to see her rush into the bathroom. I planted myself outside the door and waited.

When she came out, she looked pale and distraught. Her hair was pulled back into a long ponytail, and she was wearing a simple workout outfit of just a T-shirt and black pants. But to me, she looked perfect. After all this time, without even speaking a word to her, I still knew that she was the only girl for me. My immediate instinct was to comfort her, and make her feel better. So I tried to be lighthearted.

“It’s me, all right. You may have gotten me mixed up with Vin Diesel, but that’s OK. It happens all the time.”

Anna didn’t say anything, but just continued to stand there looking like a deer caught in the headlights. She’d make a nice deer, I thought, with her big beautiful brown eyes.

“So, you’re a physical therapist, huh? That’s pretty cool because I could use some help with my ankle and I’d rather not have some sweaty dude touching me,” I said, nudging her a little.

“Right, um, sorry, this is a little shocking,” she said at last. “I don’t think I can be your physical therapist, though.”

“So you can still talk! That’s good. I was concerned for a second there,” I said, coming closer to her. I didn’t want to make her nervous, but I couldn’t help it. I was drawn to her. I always had been.

“Hunter, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Nothing, I don’t know. I’ve missed you, Anna. And now suddenly, here you are before my very eyes. Like it was fate or something.”

“I don’t know, Hunter. It’s not that I don’t want to see you. It’s just that this is a new job, and I think...I don’t know, it might be too much to have you here, all the time.”

“Oh, come on, I’ll be a good patient. I won’t be here
all
the time, just a few times a week. I broke my damn ankle. You should help me,” I pleaded. “I’ve got a tournament to win.”

Anna sighed, and I could see she was about to cave. She had all these ideas about the way things were supposed to work, but it was always really easy to convince her to do what she wanted to do, deep down. I reached out and touched her arm, letting my fingers slide down her incredibly soft skin until I got to her hand and squeezed it.

“Please?” I said.

“I think your girlfriend would probably prefer it,” she answered.

“Girlfriend? What?” Then suddenly it dawned on me. “Oh, you mean Trina? The one who came in with me just now? No way. She’s not my girlfriend, just my manager.”

“Your manager.”

“Right. She manages things for me. Physical therapy appointments, press conferences, fighting gigs, hotel reservations, that sort of thing.”

“I see,” Anna said, leading me over to an empty table. She didn’t say anything else, but I could tell from the slight relaxing of her shoulders that she was happy about the news. I took that as a good sign.

“All right,” she said, “just hop up here and take off your shoes and socks for me please.”

“No problem. Anything else I should take off?”

“Very funny.”

I did as I was told and Anna got out some lotion and set about her work.