Law #3: Don't Fall for the Athlete: Sweet Second Chance Romance (Laws of Love) by Agnes Canestri (black books to read txt) 📗

nothing slips through the cracks of my career’s management. If I tell him the truth about Ellie, he’ll freak and force me to switch clinics. And we don’t have time for that.

I need to dive into therapy as soon as possible, else I’ll miss the training camp. I nod. “Yes, I do.”

My time constraint isn’t the whole truth. Even if I could, I don’t want to change therapists. With another shrink, I’d be addressing a nonexistent anger issue, which would fulfill Coach Fielding’s crazy request but bring me nothing else. However, if I work with Ellie, I could do something extraordinary. I could get a chance to kill off my guilt-demon. For good.

I’ve always felt terrible about how things went down between us. This therapy could be my chance to create some closure, and if lucky, to move on to a friendship with Ellie.

“Ouch.”

A sharp cry jars me out of my musing.

“Is everything okay, Mrs. Walles?” Liam asks Ellie’s boss.

The woman leans against her massive beech desk, slightly pale, and mumbles, “Yes. All is good. Thank you, Mr. Nelson.”

She doesn’t look or sound good.

She’s struggling to breathe like I do when I snatch a nasty elbow jab into my diaphragm from a giant linebacker.

What’s the matter with her?

Ellie gives her boss a concerned look then turns to my agent. “Would you and your client be so kind as to move into the waiting room? I’ll come and fetch you when we’re ready to fill out the papers.”

“I’m actually on a tight schedule,” Liam answers, blinking at his Rolex. “My flight to New York leaves in two hours. I can’t really wait around.”

I know Liam needs to see another client this afternoon, and he can’t miss his appointment. NFL players—and Liam specializes in our league—only have one meteoric career. Thus, it’s the agent’s job to ensure that every opportunity is maximized and every decision is the right one for us.

But when I see wrinkles of worry on Ellie’s forehead, I decide to obey her request. I tap on Liam’s shoulder. “I can complete the documents without your help. So unless Ellie wants you to wait…”

My agent throws a questioning glance at Ellie.

She shakes her head. “That’s unnecessary. I can go through the paperwork with Mr. Harrison alone.” Her eyes flash to me.

Whoops, I probably should’ve referred to her as Ms. Griffin in front of the others.

Her boss lets out a stifled moan, and Ellie quickly adds, “Could you step outside, please? Mrs. Walles has…another appointment as well.”

Her voice has a nervous edge, and she brushes the rim of her white coat in a fidgety way. She really wants us gone.

My eyes drift to her boss’s belly which is wobbling like a volcano before an eruption. Suddenly, I understand the situation.

I grab Liam’s elbow and drag him toward the door as quickly as I can, calling back, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Walles.”

Once we’re outside, Liam adjusts his collar. “What was that about?”

Oh, sweet goodness. Liam can be as smart about contract negotiations as he is clueless about real-life events. “The boss is in labor.”

My agent stirs uncomfortably then barks a dry “Ah, okay.” He scratches his chin. “Does this mean Mrs. Walles won’t be supervising Ms. Griffin during your therapy?”

“I’d think so, yes.”

“Isn’t Ms. Griffin too young to—”

“Don’t underestimate her,” I cut him off. “She’s brilliant and has a way of getting under anyone’s skin.” Liam arches his brows, and I hastily add, “In a good way.”

He tilts his head back and forth. “I don’t know. I would have preferred if the lead therapist of this unit followed you.”

“Ell—Ms. Griffin knows me. She’s the best choice,” I reassure him. I’m surprised by how convinced I sound.

Liam clutches his Dior briefcase tighter. “Okay, if you say so. Then I’ll move on now to my next client. A suspected PED user.” He flashes me a grin. “You see, Wyatt? You aren’t by far the sexiest of my troubles.”

I chuckle. “That’s too bad. Next time, I’ll do better.”

Liam wiggles his finger at me. “Don’t you dare. I’ll check in with you in a week by phone, but call me if you need anything. Anytime.”

“Sure.” I give him a thumbs-up, and he takes off while I go to the waiting room.

Before I can push the glass door open, Liam calls back, “Don’t get into any eroticized transference.”

I whip around, my brows rounding. “Eroticized what?”

Liam rolls his eyes. “No shenanigans with the cute Ms. Griffin, okay? You’re doing this program to get your ducks in a row with the coaches. So don’t take advantage of the situation.”

A warmth spreads through my belly as the implication of his words dawns on me, and my mind fills with very inappropriate images involving Ellie’s rosebud lips. Luckily, I reestablish control over my derailing brain and nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Liam replies, then disappears around the corner.

I step into the empty waiting room. The furniture—a large, fluffy leather couch and low coffee table filled with lifestyle magazines—perpetuates the same resort feel as Mrs. Walles’ office.

I saunter to the couch and sit. My legs get restless after a minute, so I jump up and go over to the window. Ellie’s clinic is in the heart of Downtown Phoenix, and I can spot Symphony Hall as I stare out. Ellie and I went there to watch The Nutcracker once.

I grip the windowsill with both hands as memories flood my mind.

I never told Ellie that I had to skip my football practice to be with her that night. Not that I regret having done it, even if Coach Williams didn’t go easy on me. We’d had a fantastic time. I loved watching the excitement on her face as she admired the ballet dancers twirling on stage. I remember how on the entire way back to her dorm she kept humming Tchaikovsky’s tunes.

A shrill beep and a vibration against my hip jolt me back to reality. I grab my phone, and as I see my father’s name, my hand rolls into a fist.

Huh,