Kova placed my foot down and I let out a silent breath of pain. He glanced at me, but I masked the terror in my eyes and smiled. He sat back down and went into some mundane conversation with Dad, all the while my mom's eyes were trained on me like a cat in heat as she sipped her wine.
A stone boulder sat heavy in my stomach. There was something seriously wrong with my leg that left me panic stricken. But worse, the look in my mom's eyes shook me to the core. I knew in my gut she was scheming. If only I could see what she had up her Chanel sleeve.
Forty-Five
I'd woken up in a foul mood.
Tired and in pain, I crawled out of bed like a ninety-year-old woman who needed a walker. Swollen eyes to match my swollen ankle. I was a broken record on replay every damn day and I was getting sick of my own thoughts.
Between trying to set two different appointments for two different doctors—one specialist, one physician—getting lost driving, almost running over a turtle from spotting a damn alligator on the side of the road, waiting for hours to see the doctors, and test after test, I was ready to call it a day.
The only thing that saved me from losing it was a bottle of Motrin and the strongest coffee Starbucks offered plus two extra shots of espresso.
A bowl of penne a la vodka would've been nice too. But I didn't dare.
The outcome from both doctors had been craptasic. Another day, another hurdle.
Pulling up to World Cup, I carefully stepped out of my truck and applied pressure to my good leg, which the doctor had advised against. Added pressure and added weight could eventually cause a tear on that side too.
With my keys and cell phone in one hand, I pulled open the glass door and limped inside the gym with a puckered face and fresh out of fucks to give. I was beyond aggravated I had reinjured myself. The frustration slowly dissipated as I inhaled the chalky, powdery scent that permeated the air. I treasured that scent and this place. It was home, where I was supposed to be, but once again it felt like it was being ripped from my grip, and I'd do anything to hold on to it.
The last time I'd come to see Kova after a doctor's appointment, I'd worn a green dress chosen with him in mind. This time, I wore navy blue shorts, a basic graphic shirt from Target, and a pair of stone-gray Converse. My auburn locks were tied up in a disaster of a messy bun. I wasn't in the mood for any shenanigans.
I spotted Kova through the glass window of the lobby where he was training the men's team. I caught Hayden high up in the middle of holding a skill on the rings. His triceps quivered, his face as red as a fire hydrant, but that didn't prevent him from smiling at me. A little more of my irritation melted away.
Kova looked over his shoulder and held up an index finger. I could see dark circles under his eyes from where I stood. He looked tired. The thought of how my injury would affect not only me but also him flooded my mind. He's put so much time and work into me, I didn't want to let either one of us down. Nodding, I turned and made my way to his office. The pain in my ankle was reduced to a low dull and I plopped down in one of his chairs with an exasperated sigh. I was thinking about it too much and needed to stop. My head lulled back and I closed my eyes, fatigue coming down on me once again. I laced my fingers together on my stomach and waited.
Within a few short minutes, I heard footsteps approaching down the hall.
"Ria."
I opened my eyes and my heart did an obnoxious little jump. I should've told him to stop calling me the nickname he had given me, but I couldn't find it in my heart. I liked the sound of it only on his lips.
My eyes immediately zoomed in on his toned arms. His muscles flexed as he walked around the desk, twirling in a downward spiral like powerful golden ropes. I wanted to reach out and trace them with my fingers from the curves of his shoulders to his wrists. Covered in white dust,