Undoing the Baller: An Opposites

Attract Small Town Sports Romance

(Wishing Book 3) Farrah Jane
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Undoing The Baller

Farrah Jane

ASHWING PRESS
 Copyright 2024 by Farrah Jane, writing as Isla Wilder - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly
prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.
All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Contents

1. Conor
2. Jenna
3. Conor
4. Jenna
5. Conor
6. Jenna
7. Conor
8. Conor
9. Jenna
10. Jenna
11. Conor
12. Jenna
13. Conor
14. Jenna
15. Jenna
16. Conor
17. Jenna
18. Jenna
19. Conor
20. Conor
21. Jenna
22. Conor
23. Conor
24. Jenna
25. Conor
Also By
About Farrah Jane
Chapter 1

Conor

Three months ago

You know how sometimes you just need a good swift kick to the arse to get your head on straight?
Well, apparently all it took was one bloody bad kick for me to change my entire goddamn life.

“Conor!”
“Over here!”
As I made my way out of the tunnel, I could hear them before I could see them—the press, the fans—the lot of them,
clamoring for my attention. As support striker for Stoningham F.C. the past few years, I’d grown used to it—particularly over
the last season. We’d been climbing the ranks for most of the season, closer to our goal of being promoted to the Premier
League. And the closer we got, the more intense the focus on our team became. The more my role within it became critical,
scrutinized. It could be enough to make any man buckle under the weight of it all.
Aye, who was I kidding? I fucking lived for the attention. The energy in our stadium, Barrington Park—hearing my name, all
eyes on the pitch as I worked my magic up and down it—it was electrifying. Addictive.
The pressure to win? I could handle it.
I gave a wave and a broad smile to the crowd, eyes instinctively scanning the crowd for my father out of habit, despite
knowing I wouldn’t find him there. Instead, my gaze landed on one particularly stunning blonde woman, eyeing me with a
similar smile from a few rows up. I was fairly certain I’d seen her at the last match—something about her seemed familiar.
Acknowledging her stare with a nod of my head, I made a mental note to look for her later on.
After all, if this match went as well as the last few, I’d have plenty of reason to celebrate. And what better way to celebrate
than with some hot woman’s legs wrapped around me?
But I knew victory wasn’t likely to come as easily tonight.
I wandered over to join Arnie Brent, Stoningham’s main striker, on the side of the field. The two of us had a cordial enough
relationship, though at times, I wondered if he felt threatened by my presence—Conor Kelly, the younger and more aggressive
player, hot on his heels and hungry for the prime spot.
There was no denying the man was a football legend, but this season he’d begun to show his age—especially after that rough
goal shot last week. Even now, I could see the strained look on his face as he went through his usual pregame calf stretches.
“Hey… how’s the knee tonight?”
Arnie grimaced before standing upright again. “Have to admit, it’s kind of shit. Just need some extra PT this week to work
out the kinks.”
I slapped him on the back. “Sure thing, mate… you’ll bounce back soon enough.” Inwardly, though, I felt my energy building.
It was time to show them all—the fans in the stands, all of my critics, our club manager—that I was second to no one.
But that wasn’t the only issue at hand tonight.
I glanced across the field at our opponents, Norton United. Our two teams had been locked in a dead heat all season—
tonight’s match and this team were the only two things that stood between us and promotion to the Premier League. Once there,
it was only a matter of time before one of the top tier teams made me an offer. Tonight had to go well.
But now, looking at Arnie, I found myself feeling less than confident. Like it or not, we both needed to be at the top of our
game tonight.
“Ya boys ready?” Our goalkeeper, Ron Tupper, now approached, ball in hand. A towering mass from Wales, he’d been a key
player behind Stoningham’s rise over the past few years. “Come now, Brent… all you did was pull a hammy. Man up and let’s
do this, right?”
Arnie finished one last stretch, chuckling. “Alright, man. I’m ready.” He glanced over at me. “How ‘bout you, kid?”
I smirked at him, turning to walk out onto the pitch. “I’ve always been ready.”

Eighty-two minutes later, I was standing midfield, waiting for the cheers to die down from the guest stands following Norton
United’s last goal. The score was now tied up at 2-2, and every single goal had been hard won. I could see the intensity on the
faces of my teammates, our manager…the crowd. We only had three minutes left in the match, and we needed every single one
of them to count.
I glanced ahead at Arnie—hunched over, rubbing at his kneecap, the toll of the match playing out across his features.
Fuck it.
The ball was back in motion, making its way towards the center of the pitch. I sprang into action, racing past Arnie to meet
the ball. I felt it connect with my foot, electric, as I sidestepped a few of the Norton defensive players on my way down the
field towards the goal. It was within range now, and I could hear the noise from the crowd building with each step.
Dodging left, then right, I made it past a few more blocks, even those wearing the familiar red kits of my own team. I knew
they were all wondering what the hell Conor Kelly was doing, their second striker taking the lead.
Soon enough, though, they’d be thanking their fucking lucky stars that I had. Relying on an aging, injured striker wouldn’t
secure us this win, but I could. And I was done holding myself back from taking what was mine.
As a swarm of green-clad Norton players came towards me, I heard Ian McCann, our left midfielder, calling for me to pass
the shot—but I ignored him, miraculously finding a gap to slip through the green barricade.
I could taste it already… I had this.
Then everything went silent, my senses blocking out everything but the net and the burly Norton goalkeeper before me.
Drawing my leg back to strike, I felt a sudden, powerful woosh come at me on the right—then blinding pain, as something
struck hard against my outstretched ankle.
Almost in slow motion, I felt my leg buckle, and I crumpled to the ground in agony. Then the noise from the crowd and the
players suddenly cranked way up, coming at me all at once as I lay there—eyes squinched shut, struggling to catch my breath.
Pain washed over me, radiating from my ankle, and I knew immediately—this was bad. I heard a whistle, then voices as
footsteps thundered towards me on the field. Who had the ball?
“Kelly… you ok, mate?”
“Conor, stay still… med team’s grabbing a stretcher.”
“Fuck me, look at his ankle… is that bone?”
I didn’t say anything, still in shock as I felt myself being loaded onto the stretcher a few moments later, carried across the
field like a fucking failure. I opened my eyes a bit before we cleared the pitch, my gaze drifting again to the blonde woman
from earlier. But this time, there was no flirty, sexy smile there to greet me. She was holding her phone in front of her face,
snapping photos of my misery like everyone else.
I turned my head away in disgust, shutting my eyes again as the noise slowly became more muffled as we passed through the
tunnel. This should have been my victory. Now all I could see were the social posts flashing across my mind, floating out into
the ether.
Conor Kelly, Second Striker of Stoningham F.C.… misses his shot, once again.

I felt the warmth on my face, the light burning its way through my closed eyelids. I slowly opened my eyes a crack to see the
sun rising outside the wide picture window to my left. My head pounded in response; instinctively, I raised a hand to block out
the sunlight—but then felt a stinging sensation, as I seemed to be caught on something. Opening my eyes fully now, I shifted my
gaze down to the tubing that snaked along my arm, leading up to the IV bag that hung from a metal pole to the left of my bed.
No, not my bed. This wasn’t home. This was…
Fuck.
But a fuck would’ve been much more pleasant than this reality. Because the memories were flooding back now—the match,
the clear shot, the almost-kick. And the pain, which somehow seemed less at the moment. Maybe I’d only dreamed that part.
Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it had seemed out there…
“Glad to see you awake.”
I turned my head slowly towards the voice on my right, surprised to find that I wasn’t alone. There sat my teammate Arnie
Brent, all cleaned up and lounging next to me, his tall frame appearing far too large for the small wooden chair upon which he
sat. His face held a grim smile as he raised a small paper cup of coffee up towards his lips—for some reason, it irritated the
shit out of me.
“Yeah, well… why wouldn’t I be?” My voice crackled, throat dry from sleep and lack of use.
Arnie lowered his cup, looking amused. “No reason… other than the fact that you just went through surgery, mate.” His eyes
shifted towards the foot of the bed, and it was then that I noticed my heavily bandaged right leg.
I stifled a groan, leaning my head back into my pillow. Fuck, not a dream, then.
“What happened with the match?”
“We lost.”
“Fuck!” I slammed a fist against the bed, tears of frustration and pain filling my eyes before I blinked them away. “How the
hell did we lose? I had it all queued up for you…”
“What, you think that show you put on was for us?”
I looked at him sharply. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
His gaze was steely now. “That was a real wank move you pulled out there, Kelly. You forget you’re part of a team?”
“The team needed someone to step up, take the win. Didn’t see anyone else up for the task.”
Arnie shifted closer now. “No, mate… the team needed to follow the plays as planned, so we could take the win together.”
He leaned back in his chair again, shaking his head. “All you did was bloody showboat, try and take the glory for yourself. And
you made a right mess out of it.”
“A mess? I had that shot, and you know it,” I grumbled. “Who the fuck hit me, anyway?”
“It was Maartens, their right midfielder.”
“Maartens? That tosser?”
Arnie smirked. “Yeah, got you good, too. But the penalty he took wasn’t enough. Norton’s promoted, we’re not. Another year,
fucking wasted.” He sighed. “Look, you’re a fantastic striker, man. No one can dispute your talent. And in many ways, you’ve
energized the team, pushed us to get to where we are.” He leaned closer. “I remember what it was like to be young, Kelly,
hungry to prove yourself to the world. Can’t say I didn’t try doing the same at the start of my career. But you—”
“—I don’t need to bloody prove anything.”
He was quiet for a moment, considering. Then he seemed to soften, motioning towards my leg. “Sorry about your ankle.
Tough break.”
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Whatever. I’ll be running circles around you in a month, so don’t get too
comfortable over there.” But in my head, I kept replaying that moment when I felt Maartens strike, and I knew—this was no
small break, not like the last time. I needed to get a doctor to get in here, so I could get some answers.
 Arnie gave me a small smile, but I noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked as though he was about to say something
more—but then my cell phone started vibrating from the small table next to my bed. He stood up, patting me on the arm. “I’ll let
you get that. Take care mate, alright? Keep me posted on things.”
“Yeah.” And then he was gone. I reached over to grab my phone and saw my dad’s name flash across the screen. Sighing, I
clicked the screen to accept the call. “Hey, Dad.”
“Conor, I’ve been trying to reach you. How are you doing?”
I released my breath and relaxed back against the bed. “I dunno. Sore, I guess. Did you see the match?”
“Of course I did. I was up watching, like I always am. You lads fought hard… really thought you had it. Sorry, son.”
“Yeah… me too.”
I heard him pause. “That was… quite the play there, at the end.”
I knew what was coming next, so I hurried to change the subject. “Listen, thanks for calling. I need to talk to the doctor so I
can figure out when I’m getting out of here. I gotta get back to training in a few weeks.”
“Son, that’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about. I spoke with the doctor earlier, while you were still under.”
I felt myself tense. “Yeah? Had to have been a pretty late call, eh?” My father had remarried the previous fall, moving from
our home back in Ireland to some small town in the States.
“You didn’t imagine I’d be sleeping, what with worrying about you?”
“Yeah, fine.” I hesitated. “Alright then, out with it… what did the doctor have to say? Did he tell you when I’ll be back to
playing?”
Another pause. “Listen, Conor… your ankle was in pretty bad shape. The bone broke clear through, even pierced the skin.”
I shuddered as the memories of last night suddenly came flooding back to me.
“Fuck me, is that bone…?”
I shook my head, as if to clear it. “I’ve broken bones before, Dad.”
“Not… like this, son.” My Dad’s voice cracked a bit, as though he was trying to hold back the emotion from his end of the
line. What wasn’t he saying?
Just then, I heard a gentle knock—a doctor with graying hair had appeared in the doorway. “Listen, Dad… the doctor’s here.
Don’t worry, ‘kay? I’ll check in with you later on.”
“Conor, I—”
“Bye, Dad.” I hung up the phone and set it down on the bed next to me. Whatever my father had been trying to say, I just
couldn’t hear it right now.
The doctor gave me a small nod as he entered the room, chart in hand. “Good morning, Mr. Kelly. I’m Dr. Foley, your
surgeon. How’d you sleep?”
“Fine, doc,” I said, feeling the impatience rise up within me as he flipped through my chart. I didn’t want small talk—I
needed answers. “So, surgery went well? I want to get back to training soon… any idea of when I can start physical therapy?”
Dr. Foley lowered the chart, deep brown eyes peering up at me over the rim of his wire-framed glasses. “Mr. Kelly, you do
understand the seriousness of your injury, yes? Your ankle was nearly completely shattered. It’s actually a miracle we were
able to properly set the bones.”
“But you did set it, right?”
“Yes. And physical therapy will, of course, be necessary as soon as we can get you out of the cast and into a walking boot.
All in good time.” He set down the chart on the small table at the foot of the bed, his expression grim. “But what you need to
realize is, combined with your previous break, your ankle will never be the same as it once was.”
I gave him a look. “I have no doubt that I can rebuild my strength, Doc. I just want to know when I can get out of here, and
start training again. I need to be ready for next season.”
Dr. Foley looked straight at me, eyebrows raised. “Mr. Kelly, I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say. Your ankle
won’t be able to withstand the rigors of the sport.” He paused, considering his words. “I’m sorry, son—I know this is difficult
to hear, but it would be irresponsible of me as your surgeon to not be frank with you. Based on your injury, I cannot see
professional football being a part of your future.”
What… the fuck??
I tried taking a deep breath—but suddenly, the room felt void of all air. Dr. Foley must have noticed, as he picked up the
chart to take his leave. “I know this is a great deal to take in, Mr. Kelly. I’ll give you some space. But the most important thing
to remember is this—soon enough, you’ll be up and walking again. And you’re young—you have your whole life ahead of you.
Plenty of time to figure out what comes next.” He took a step towards me, patting my arm. “I’ll stop by later. You should get
some rest.” Then he was gone, though in my mental spiral, I barely noticed.
Rest? Who could fucking rest after being told their dream was… over?
Over and over in my head, I heard his words—what I now knew my father had been trying to tell me over the phone, but
couldn’t bring himself to say.
That football, as I knew it, was over.
No. I refused to accept it.
At that moment, I ignored the feeling of defeat—instead, I felt the burning of conviction within me.
I’d show them all that Conor Kelly would never miss his shot—ever again.
Chapter 2

Jenna

One month ago

How the hell did I end up here?

It was an anthem I’d repeated inwardly every single day for the past four months, all while staring at the stupid beige walls
that made up my jail cell.
Not that the walls were the issue. That was all me.
I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment as I leaned against the back of my chair.
“Jenna, can you come in here, please?”
Well, that was short-lived.
I sighed again, glancing at the clock—it was already five-thirty. The rest of the staff was gone for the day, and I’d been
enjoying a few silent, peaceful minutes to myself before I wrapped up my last couple of tasks. Standing up from the rolling
chair, I headed into the exam room where I’d heard his voice.
We’d had the usual backup of clinic appointments all day, each running a solid twenty minutes late, thanks to the fact that Dr.
Anderson refused to adhere to a schedule. It was no wonder that his roster always had a massive waitlist—the man spent so
much time with each of his patients that they left feeling seen, cared for. His reputation was a huge part of why I’d wanted to
work for Portland Women’s Clinic in the first place. After spending more than three years feeling totally burned out working in
the ER at Portland General Hospital, landing this job a few months ago had felt like a god-send.
But unfortunately, working with a doctor who was always running late meant that I, a mere LPN, often bore the brunt of the
inevitable patient crabbiness. And nobody is crankier than a woman anticipating having a cold, metal speculum shoved up her
hoo-ha.
After I’d brought them back to the exam room and taken their vitals, every patient seemed to get all the complaining out of
their systems by the time the enigmatic Dr. Anderson entered the room.
And now, knowing he had just finished with Phyllis Whitman—who had told me no less than five times that I was making her
‘very late for her dinner party’—I could only imagine what sort of feedback he had for me this time.
This job was starting to feel more and more like fielding hospitality requests rather than practicing medicine—not what I’d
signed on for.
I walked into the room to see Dr. Anderson perched on a stool on the other side of the exam table, his broad frame leaning
over his laptop as he completed his chart notes. “Yes, Doctor?”
He glanced up, smirking. “I believe I’ve told you many times before, Jenna… please, call me Phil.”
This was our usual game, but today, I refused to play it. Because not only did Dr. Philip Anderson have a reputation for being
a sought-after OB/GYN in the community, he was also notorious amongst his staff as a habitual flirt—and too often, borderline
inappropriate.
To further complicate matters, he was also married to Alicia Milton, chair of Portland Women’s Clinic Board of Directors—
a woman you did not want to cross.
I’d heard more than a few stories of past employees who’d fallen under the good doctor’s spell, only to suddenly find
themselves unemployed. Unfortunately, over the past few weeks, I’d been sensing that Dr. Anderson was trying to make me his
next conquest.
I mean, there was no denying the man was as handsome as he was charming—thick, salt and pepper waves and piercing
hazel eyes; tall, muscular frame accentuated under his lab coat—which we all swore he’d had custom-tailored to show off his
build. It was clear—Dr. Anderson knew the effect he had on women.
And as a younger nurse working in an office of almost all women, I’d tried to fly under the radar as much as possible,
requesting to work alongside the clinic’s three female doctors instead. Honestly, I was certain he hadn’t had to work this hard
on anyone else.
But despite my best efforts, I’d been finding myself assigned to Dr. Anderson’s service more and more often in recent weeks.
And it was becoming nearly impossible to avoid him.
“Thanks, but I prefer to stick to Dr. Anderson,” I said. He cocked his head, studying my face, as though trying to figure me
out. I kept my expression guarded. “Anyway, I’ll take care of disinfecting things here before I leave. Did you need anything
else?”
“Actually, yes. I’ve noticed that you’ve been requesting to be on Dr. May’s schedule for the last couple of weeks. Any reason
why? You aren’t… avoiding me, are you?” He stood up, eyes locked on mine.
I maintained my position, refusing to let on that he was once again making me uncomfortable with his thinly veiled
innuendos. All I wanted was to finish my work and go home.
I shrugged. “I just appreciate her approach, is all,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “And, I like Nurse Ann. I’ve been
thinking about continuing my education, so… I’m learning a lot from both of them.”
As I spoke, I noticed he had started inching towards me—still smiling, but now with a flicker of something else in his eyes—
the very thing I’d been doing my best to dodge for weeks. “And you don’t appreciate my approach, is that it?”
“No, I think you're good with your patients…”
“Yes, true. But I am good at far more than just patient care, Jenna. I’m certain there’s plenty I could teach you.” He smiled.
“And if you’re looking to further your career, I know many decision-makers in this field. Perhaps I could help.”
But it wasn’t kindness or altruism I saw in his expression—it was predatory persuasion. And I didn’t want to know what
came attached to the strings of his offer.
“No… I’m fine, truly.” No, I was anything but fine right now…
Dr. Anderson paused in front of me. “Jenna, do I make you nervous?”
Yes.
“No. But listen, I need to wrap things up here so I can head home. I, um, have my friend waiting for me…” I brushed back a
strand of light brown hair that had fallen across my face.
Liar.
There was no one waiting for me, at home or otherwise. Much like this very moment, I found myself alone most nights.
Between my lackluster social life and current career prospects, this wasn’t exactly what I’d envisioned for myself when I’d
first moved to Portland.
But at that moment, I desperately wished I was in my apartment—curled up in my PJs with an iced latte, watching another
rom-com on my couch, alone. I would take endless nights of loneliness in spades to avoid whatever proposition this man was
about to toss at me.
“There’s no need to rush off, Jenna. It’s ok… it’s just you and me. No need to feel nervous.” Dr. Anderson began unbuttoning
his lab coat, his hazel eyes flickering as they bore into me.
What the hell was happening??
And as he pulled aside his lab coat, things got much worse—for it was then that I realized his pants were undone, and his…
his penis was hanging out, partially erect.
For a moment, I stood frozen. Then a voice sounded in my head.
Was it supposed to be so… small?
I don’t know if it was my anxiety, the intensity of the situation, or the teeny-tiny Willy pointing at me in accusation—but
before I could stop myself, I started laughing.
Dr. Anderson stared at me, his lecherous smile fading. Clearly, this was not the reaction he’d expected. I covered my mouth,
trying desperately to muffle the giggles escaping my lips. But it was no use. And as I laughed, the doctor’s expression grew
darker.
“What the hell is this??”
Yes, that was enough to finally silence me. Because the question wasn’t coming from Dr. Anderson, who was now rapidly
fastening his lab coat.
No, the voice had come from the doorway behind me. I spun around to meet the narrowed eyes of Alicia Milton—a.k.a Mrs.
Anderson.
Shit.
“Mrs… Anderson? I mean, Ms. Milton? Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I swear, this is not what it looks like…”
Alicia eyed me shrewdly for a moment, then sighed. “I’m sure it’s not, my dear.” Then she looked past me to her husband.
“Seriously, Philip? Again? That’s the third one this year. Can’t you just keep it in your pants until we get home? We’re
supposed to have dinner with the Nelsons in an hour.”
Dr. Anderson at least had the decency to look somewhat ashamed as he leaned against the exam table. “I’m sorry, my love.
I… don’t know what came over me. Jenna is…”
 “Another distraction, yes. I swear, every new hire will have to be over fifty from now on.” She rolled her eyes, looking
back at me with an expression of, You see what I have to deal with?
I was so confused, with no idea of what to say or do. But then Alicia Milton began speaking to me.
“Ok, Jenna, gather your things. I apologize that this didn’t work out the way you had hoped.”
“Um… what do you mean? I wasn’t hoping to do anything with your husband, other than what I was hired to do.”
She raised an eyebrow. “No, dear, I meant the job. Clearly, we have to let you go.”
“Excuse me?”
“Understand the position this places me in as chairwoman of Portland Women’s Medicine. If the media caught wind of my
husband’s… proclivities, we’d be done for.” Then she seemed to soften a bit. “I’m sorry, but you’re a liability. But don’t
worry, I’ll write you a glowing reference. You’re young… you won’t have any problem finding a new job.”
My head was spinning, as I felt everything spiral out of control with no way for me to stop it. “But… he came on to me. I… I
could report him to the board.”
Alicia eyed me shrewdly now. “Do you really think the board would listen to a twenty-something LPN versus their
chairwoman? Please.” She took a step closer, her voice dropping. “And Jenna, I have many connections within the Oregon
Medical Board. I’d hate to make this… messy for you. You do still care about working in medicine, I assume?”
I nodded, feeling my blood run cold.
“Then I’m certain you’ll make the right decision.” She turned to her husband. “Come, Philip. We have dinner reservations to
get to. And for the love of God, please zip up your pants.”
Then the two of them exited the room without so much as a backwards glance. I soon found myself standing alone, in shock,
the familiar anthem once again ringing through my head:
How the hell did I end up here?

After I’d cleared my meager possessions from my locker, I made my way out the door one last time in silence. Without thinking,
I wandered along the sidewalks towards Luca’s Italian restaurant for a to-go slice of their famous chocolate layer cake, then
trudging down the path towards home. Fifteen minutes later, I dropped myself down onto the ratty, secondhand blue floral
loveseat in my tiny walk-up apartment.
And that’s when everything hit me at once, and the tears began to flow.
What was I going to do now?
I needed a job, stat. I have next to no savings at this point—living in Portland on an LPN’s salary was tough enough as it
was. And now, my resume would show two different jobs in three years—hardly a stellar track record.
I could hear the voices of my parents echoing in my mind, an endless loop of advice on responsibility, future planning, and
the pitfalls of city life that I’d tried my damndest to tune out a million times.
All I’d accomplished in the years since earning my degree was to prove them both right. Who was I kidding? Maybe I really
couldn’t do this.
I wiped my tears before shrugging off my jacket, walking over to the kitchenette behind me to grab a fork, a plastic tumbler…
and the only bottle of wine I had on hand.
Would a 2021 Merlot pair well with both failure and chocolate cake?
Sinking back onto the couch with my supplies in hand and grabbing the TV remote, I cracked open my box of pity cake and
shoved a forkful into my mouth.
Time to find out.
Alicia Milton was true to her word. At least, I assumed she was. My eyes seemed to have difficulty focusing on the screen in
front of me.
I'd just woken up from where I’d fallen asleep on the couch, several notifications pinging on my phone. Head pounding, I
glanced at the screen after wrestling my device out from under my arm.
Eleven a.m.
I bolted upright, wondering how I’d overslept by five freaking hours.
And then everything started to spin. Why was the world spinning?
Suddenly, it all came flooding back to me.
Dr. Anderson.
Wee Willy.
His wife, firing me.
I glanced over at the small flat screen TV across from me, frozen on the DVD menu for While You Were Sleeping. On the
wooden coffee table in front of me lay an empty wine bottle, tipped against the dried-out remnants of last night's chocolate
cake. The entire scene was both tragic and laughable.
I dropped my head back to the couch, pulling the fuzzy gray blanket from my lap over my head—desperate to block out the
past twenty-four hours. I just couldn’t deal with my life right now.
But the dings kept on coming. Grumbling, I felt around again for my phone, holding it up to my face while still beneath the
blanket. As I scrolled through them, my stomach dropped—the rumor mill was already churning, and my co-workers had
learned of my fate.
Great.
Of course, they didn’t really know what had happened. I was certain that a carefully crafted message had been circulated by
Chairwoman Milton, stating that LPN Jenna Barry had “left to pursue other opportunities”. But just like with the other women
before me, the gossip would be rampant, everyone assuming the truth.
On the surface, the messages I read seemed kind, concerned… wondering if I was ok, or congratulating me on my “new
opportunity”. But in my four months at Portland Women’s Clinic, I hadn’t made one true friend there. Nobody I could talk to
about this situation, or what I should do about it. No one who would actually have my back.
Would they really think I played any part in all of this? Would they believe I had willingly engaged in anything with that
man?
God, the humiliation of it all was overwhelming.
I was about to ignore it all and set my phone down again when I saw Alicia Milton’s name pop up on my screen as an email
notification. Anxiously clicking into the email, I first noticed there was nothing in the body of the message, beyond the
statement, “Best of luck.”
Gee, thanks.
But there was a single attachment, which my blurry vision slowly zoned in on—revealing a very flattering letter of
recommendation, as promised. Obviously, a cover-your-ass move, ensuring I didn’t report Chairwoman Milton and her pervy
husband for harassment and bribery.
I set my phone on my chest, sighing deeply. My life might be imploding—and I may feel like shit—but I had no choice. I had
to find a job ASAP, or I couldn’t afford to stay in Portland.
I just prayed that I could pick up the pieces of my life—before the rest of the sky crashed down upon me.
Chapter 3

Conor

“Conor Kelly? The doctor will see you now.”

I shifted my hips to the edge of the seat, grabbing for my crutches as I hoisted myself up from the waiting room chair. Edie,
the older woman who’d been chatting non-stop beside me about her cat Mr. Finkle, gave me a little wave.
“Best of luck to ya, lad… Mr. Finkle and I will be cheering you on next season!”
I nodded. “Um, yeah… thanks, ma’am.” Turning quickly, I made my way towards the exam room door, all the while thinking
grumpily to myself what a stupid fucking name Mr. Finkle was for a cat.
Not that my pissy mood had anything to do with a cat or anyone else. It was this goddamn plateau I’d found myself stuck on.
In the two and a half months since my surgery, I’d been struggling to gain strength in my ankle at the rate I’d expected. By this
point, I figured I’d be able to ditch the boot or at least start walking on it fully, moving on to more aggressive physical therapy.
It was already goddamn July, for fuck’s sake.
I mean, I knew I could do it—but I was worried Doctor Foley would refuse. And as he reported every element of my
progress directly to Mick Mullens, our team manager, I needed him to give me the clearance to ramp it up.
I eased myself up onto the exam table as the nurse shut the door. A moment later, Dr. Foley came bustling through the door.
“Ah, Mr. Kelly… how’re you feeling?”
“Fine, Doc… just anxious to get back at it, y’know.”
“Ah, yes.” Dr. Foley pulled his wire-rimmed glasses from his lab coat pocket, settling them onto the bridge of his nose as he
studied my chart. “How’s your ankle been since our last visit?”
I shrugged. “Still somewhat sore. All part of the healing, I suppose. Physical therapy has been good. The ankle’s definitely
getting stronger, Doc. I’m on a good track.”
That was a bald-faced lie—so far, my PT sessions had been a lesson in futility. I wanted to push myself harder, but my
therapist, Tim, kept insisting that I needed to take it slowly. And even though the deep aching I felt in my ankle after some of our
sessions suggested he might have a point, it still pissed me off.
I didn’t have the time to slow down. I needed to get stronger now, so I was ready for next season. We were only two months
out from the season kickoff in September—with preseason starting in early August—and I could feel the clock counting down
like a bomb in my chest.
“I see in the therapist’s notes that you’ve been requesting an even more rapid acceleration in your therapy plan.” Dr. Foley
glanced up at me over the rim of his glasses. “Mr. Kelly, I must stress once again that you need to have patience with this
process. Your ankle isn’t going to heal overnight.”
I felt the frustration build in my chest. “Well, I need it to heal faster, Doc. The next football season will be here soon enough,
and I gotta be in training in a couple of weeks for sure.”
Dr. Foley set down his chart. “Mr. Kelly, we don’t seem to be on the same page here. I’ve been clear since the start—your
injury was severe. I told you at the start that full recovery was highly unlikely. Professional football is just not…”
“... it’s my life, Doc,” I interrupted him, the pressure inside of me mounting. “So tell me, what can I do? More PT sessions
each week? Hire a trainer now to ease back into it? Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”
Dr. Foley sighed, lowering himself down onto the stool near the foot of the exam table. “Son, please know this gives me no
pleasure. But I have to make the same recommendation that I did two weeks ago… and every other time before that. Your ankle
will not stand up to the rigors of the sport, plain and simple.” He placed a hand on my arm where it rested on my lap, his
expression softening. “I’m sorry, I really am. I know how hard all of this must be for you. But I’m contractually obligated to
report my honest assessment to your manager, and to you.”
“Please, Doc.” I could barely see his face now—my eyes were glazed over with the tears I willed not to fall.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing more I can do.”
 “Fuck it. I don’t need any of this.” I angrily slid myself off the edge of the exam table, making a grab for my crutches as they
crashed to the floor. Dr. Foley stood quickly, reaching forward to pick them up—but I waved him away. “Don’t bother. I’m
fine.” I leaned down quickly, and in my haste, I accidentally banged my boot hard against the wall. I felt a jolt of pain shoot
through my ankle and into my calf, gritting my teeth to keep myself from shouting.
I knew Dr. Foley could sense that I was in pain—but thankfully, he said nothing. Thank God. Because I didn’t think I could
take a speck of pity from one more damn person.
Not bothering to look him in the eye or say another word, I swung around to the door and made my way back through the
waiting area. I could feel the stares from a few people, all of whom had probably heard my outburst. Even Edie, still sitting
where I’d left her, was frowning, shaking her head in disapproval.
Guess Mr. Finkle won’t be cheering for me now.
But what the hell did I care about an old lady and her cat—or a doctor who refused to listen to reason, and do what was right
for his patient?
I didn’t need any of them.
I didn’t need anyone.
I’d fucking figure it out on my own—just like I always had.
I made it out to the sidewalk, pulling my phone from my pants pocket to request an Uber. Before putting it away again, I
hesitated for a moment—then pulled up Arnie Brent’s name in my contacts.

ME: Hey, mate. Wondering if you’d wanna grab a pint at McGowen’s

I stood there impatiently, waiting for both the scheduled gray Fiat and a response from my teammate to appear.
As the car pulled up to the curb a couple minutes later, I felt my phone buzz.

AB: Sure, why not. See you in twenty.

“Yeah, you should’ve seen Tupper at Riley’s last week… he made a damn fool of himself over that woman. He still can’t talk
about it.” Arnie chuckled before taking a deep swig of his porter, wiping the foam from his upper lip as he set down his glass. I
was glad I’d suggested McGowen’s. As usual for a Tuesday, the place was quiet, so we had the dimly lit back corner to
ourselves. I just wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone else at the moment.
I smirked. “Sounds like Tupper, alright.” Our goalkeeper had a reputation of getting himself into messes when it came to the
ladies; I couldn’t ever imagine the man ever settling down.
“Don’t it?” He shook his head, grinning. “Anyway, how’s therapy going?”
I shrugged. “It’s fine. Taking longer than I’d like to get back on track, but I’ll get there.”
Arnie nodded, studying me for a moment before continuing. “You talk to Mullens lately?”
“I don’t see a need until training starts.” But my usual confidence was waning. I’d barely heard a word from our manager
since that last game—I had to admit, it’d been nagging at me. My hope was he’d just been busy prepping for preseason. I
looked at Arnie curiously. “Why?”
“I dunno, mate… maybe you should give him a call.”
I felt myself tense, taking a slow sip of my own lager to calm my nerves before answering. “Listen Brent, if you know
something…”
Arnie held up a hand. “I don’t know anything for certain. Just… heard a couple rumors.”
“Like what?”
“Mullens has been scouting out a few backup strikers for next season.” He released a deep breath, picking up his glass to
take another drink.
 “He’s fucking doing what?!”
“Hey, man… it’s just what I heard. Could be nothing. Could just be him covering his ass for the owners.” But I noticed he
couldn’t quite meet my eyes now.
I knew then that this was serious. Not a casual scouting mission.
I was being… replaced.
“No… I’m under contract. Mullens can’t do this.”
Arnie shrugged. “Look, I’m not saying it’s happening. But… I’d talk to him.” He gave me a grim smile. “I know I gave you a
hard time after that game. But you deserve your spot on this team. You’re a fucking good striker. And you have an instinct for
the game, like few others I’ve known.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
He smirked. “Well then, don’t go pushing yourself and fucking up your ankle for good, just because you think you can’t be
anything else outside of that pitch. You have the rest of your life to think about, mate. Football isn’t forever. I know that,
better’n anyone. And you gotta keep your eyes open for what could come next.” He stood up, pulling a few bills from his
wallet and dropping them on the table. “I have to get home. Early morning tomorrow. But I’ve got drinks tonight.”
“Thanks.”
Arnie nodded. “Stay in touch man, ‘kay? I’m sure we’ll be talking again soon.”
“Yeah. You too.” I watched as he turned and walked towards the front door of the pub, listening to the bells jingle as he
passed through on his way outside. I sat for a moment before picking up my phone, knowing what needed to be done.
I listened to it ring half a dozen times, thinking I’d for sure end up in his voicemail—but then I heard Mullens’ distinct Dublin
accent filter through from the other end of the line.
“Kelly. Good to hear from ya, lad.”
“Yeah, well… it’s been a bit. Just wanted to check in.”
“I’ve been meanin’ to call again. How’ve you been?”
I cleared my throat. “Fine. I’ve been working hard to get ready for training. My ankle’s really coming along.”
For a long moment, there was only silence on the other end. And then I heard him sigh. “Listen, Kelly… it’s not just up to
me.”
“What’s not up to you?” I wanted—no, I needed—to hear him say it.
“You’re out, lad. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m not.”
“This isn’t how I wanted to tell ya. I know how hard the past months have been, and all the work you’ve put in...”
“Do you? Because I haven’t heard shit from you in weeks. And I’ve been working my ass off, Mick. I deserve the chance to
prove it. I deserve my spot on the team.” I could picture him sitting in his office chair right now, fingers steepled before him,
drumming together lightly as he pondered my words. Mick Mullens was a good manager and a fair man, that much was true;
he’d been the one to give me my shot three years ago, when I was still pissing around on a small team back home in Ireland.
But I didn’t have space in my life right now for sentimentality. This was my fucking future on the line.
I couldn’t go back to where I’d been.
Mick’s voice was softer now. “I know, lad. Believe me, I do. But Dr. Foley’s reports are what we have to work with.”
I snorted. “Foley is wrong. He hasn’t been to my therapy sessions. He hasn’t seen what I can do.” But deep down, I knew—
even if he had, it wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.
“Unfortunately, the doctor’s assessment is all Owens Corp. cares about.”
“Those tossers that have never even been to one of our matches? Have never even watched me fucking play? How are they
qualified to decide anything?”
“Because they, lad, are the ones who sign our paychecks. Yours and mine.” A pause. “I’m truly sorry. I wish I could do
somethin’ more for you.”
“You can. Fight this, Mick. Please.”
“It’s final, I’m sorry.” I heard him sigh on the other end of the line. “You’re young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.
Football isn’t the only thing there is—”
“... what the hell do you know about it? Thanks for nothing, Mick.” And before I could hear his response, I hung up the
phone, slamming it down onto the table. I roughly grabbed the pint glass in front of me, draining the remainder as I felt the
anger in me boil over. Throwing the glass to the floor, I watched it shatter, fragments of something that was once whole
scattering across to the darkest, dankest corners of the pub.
“What the fuck yeh doin’ back there, Kelly?” Bryan, the grizzled barkeep, shouted from the counter up along the far end of the
pub. He was a good man, and after many hours spent in this place over the years, we’d developed a sort of friendship.
But tonight, I’d fucking had it with everyone. This town, these people, this fucking sport that I loved so much. I hated that I
needed it so much.
I made my way up towards the bar, using my crutches to shove over stools as I went. “Maybe you should clean the tables
here once in a while. My goddamn glass stuck to it, and I knocked it off.”
Bryan raised an eyebrow at me. “What’s up with yeh tonight?”
“With me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. He continued to stare at me in confusion. “Maybe if you weren’t such a half-
rate eejit, you wouldn’t be stuck running a dive bar for a bunch of drunks.”
That managed to flip the switch. Bryan’s confusion had now faded into a menacing glower, something I’d never been on the
receiving end of from him before. He lowered his voice in a tone that was even more threatening. “Yeh got a problem with me,
mate?”
The voice in my head told me to knock it off, walk away. But I was way past caring.
I leaned over the counter, pressing as close to Bryan’s face as I could. I felt that familiar burning inside of me, aching for a
fight. “Yeah, I’ve got a problem. This place is shit. And so are you.” I grabbed an empty glass that sat between us, and threw it
against the wall behind him, taking great pleasure in watching one more perfect thing shatter.
Bryan slammed a fist down on the counter, reaching quickly across to grab me by the collar. “It’s only on account of our
history that I’m not pounding yeh to the floor right now, Kelly. Take that as a warning.”
And then—I spat in his face.
He roared, “Fuckin’ wanker!” then shoved me to the floor, my crutches flying from my hands and scattering a few feet away.
On the way down, I hit my forehead against the edge of the table next to me—as I lay there, burning with rage and humiliation, I
could feel the warmth trickling down the side of my face. Touching it, my hand came back smeared with blood.
And then, I saw them. A group of younger twenty-somethings—more than likely from university, as it was still in the final
stretch of the academic year—had walked into the pub, staring at the scene before them. I prayed they wouldn’t recognize me,
but then one of them—a tall, lanky kid who of fucking course happened to be wearing a Stoningham F.C. shirt—pulled out his
phone.
“Tough break eh, Kelly?” He smirked, flashing a few pics, and then his friends started to as well. Snickering, they walked
past me. The last one in the group, a young woman with blonde hair, stopped. She must’ve noticed my crutches laying off to the
side, as they were now in her hand.
“These yours?”
“Yeah.” I lifted myself off the floor, grabbing the edge of the counter for support before taking the crutches. Bryan, I noticed,
was nowhere to be seen. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” She held up her phone, snapping a photo. “Sorry, my dad’s a big fan.” Her look was apologetic, but I’d had enough.
I shoved past her on my way towards the door. As the bells jingled overhead, I could hear Bryan’s voice call behind me,
“Don’t let me see yer fuckin’ face in here again, Kelly!” Then the door slammed shut, and I was alone on the sidewalk. A
couple of people gave me a strange look as they walked by until I remembered—I was bleeding. I pulled my handkerchief from
my pocket—the initials C.E.K. stitched on the corner—wiping my brow before pulling up the Uber app on my phone.
But when it came to entering my destination, I paused.
Because I had no fucking clue where I was headed next.
Chapter 4

Jenna

“Thank you for your interest in this position. There were many qualified applicants, and we regret to inform you we are
unable to move forward with your application at this time. Please refer to our website for future job openings that might be
more suitable. Thank you.”
“Arrgggghhh…” I groaned, hitting delete on the message before dropping my head to the counter. I was sitting at my kitchen
island—or what had been turned into my “job hunt command center” over the past month. I’d learned early on that working
from the couch was a no-go—the siren’s call of Netflix had a way of luring me in.
Or at least it had—until last week, when I’d been forced to cancel pretty much every single thing that brought me joy in order
to hold on to what remained of my dwindling bank account.
But with the way my job search had been going, I was desperate for a distraction. Day after day of sitting in this stupid tiny
apartment—subsisting on ramen, carrots and off-brand nacho cheese chips, scouring the internet for jobs in my field—was
sucking the life out of me.
I imagined the epitaph on my inevitable tombstone:

Here lies Jenna Barry;

Faithful Daughter & Sister,
Who Died Alone,
Adrift & Penniless.
Dramatic? Maybe. But I was having a damn hard time trying to find anything resembling hope right now.
Even after a solid month of hustling, I was having zero luck in finding a new job. Portland seemed to be one of the few
places in the entire country that did not have a nursing shortage. Or at least when it came to LPNs.
A few years back, I’d felt a lot more hopeful about where my life was headed. I’d just completed my licensed practical nurse
certification at a nearby community college, thirty minutes from my small hometown of Wishing. I was eager to find a job, and
move away to the big city.
It had taken me three years after graduating from high school to even decide to head down that path—while all of my friends
seemed to know exactly what they wanted to do with their lives, I hadn’t the first clue. I spent the first years of my adult life
treading water, living at home while working at our local pizza bar—all the while waiting for my life to actually start.
All I knew was I needed to experience life and gain some independence outside of my family and the only place I’d ever
known. So when I heard a former classmate had taken the LPN program and already scored a job in Seattle, I jumped at the
opportunity. It was a way out, and healthcare was always something that had intrigued me. Starting as an LPN provided an easy
entry. I figured I’d just gain experience in the field for a few years, then maybe work towards my RN degree or something.
But I’d yet to make it happen. My first job at Portland General Hospital landed me in a graveyard emergency room position
that broke my spirit and ambition over three long, grueling years. There was no time then to think about more school, even if I’d
had the money or energy for it.
I’d thought my lucky break with Portland Women’s Clinic would put me back on the right path—but then Dr. McPervy Pants
and his wife mucked up all of my plans.
If I was being honest, though, working as an LPN anywhere wasn’t my dream. I didn’t even really know how I felt about
becoming an RN anymore, either. I kept looking for inspiration, seeking a career that would check all the boxes and make me
feel a sense of purpose—but no matter how I looked at it, switching paths equalled more school, and even more debt.
Like it or not—for now, I was stuck.
Lifting my head off the counter, I shut the lid of my laptop with a sigh. It was time to stop wasting hours upon hours and face
reality—there were no other jobs in the area beyond the three I’d applied to already. The email I’d just received was the last of
three rejections, without so much as an interview.
I was beginning to think that Alicia Milton’s “generous” offer of writing me a letter of recommendation—which I’d included
with each application—had instead blacklisted me across the entire Portland medical community.
How many times had her husband pulled the same crap on some other hapless victim, forcing her to draft yet another hush
letter? And were all of those other women now jobless pariahs, too?
All of a sudden, a loud knock at my door yanked me from my self-pity spiral. Like a proper pariah, I’d barely left my
apartment all week—and I wasn’t expecting anyone. Shuffling over to the door, I took a brief glance in the small mirror I’d
hung nearby, brushing the stringy, light brown hair out of my face. Now more visible, my green eyes—and the dark circles
beneath them—screamed despair.
You’ve never looked better, Jenna Barry. I heard the voice in my head cackle in true Mean Girls fashion.
Sighing, I stepped over to the door, pressing myself against it to spy through the peephole.
Thankfully, the face I spotted on the other side was LeAnne, my only actual friend in Portland. We’d connected during
graveyard shifts at the hospital, both as LPNs. She’d left that job before I did, nabbing a cushy spot at a gastroenterology clinic
specializing in routine colonoscopies. With a normal schedule, wages at the top of the pay scale, and nary a skeevy doctor in
sight, she was basically living the dream as far as I was concerned.
Although from what she’d shared, colonoscopy patients were even less thrilled with their procedures than my former pap
smear ladies.
I yanked open the door and smothered my friend in a hug, her muffled chuckle sounding in my ear.
“Whoa, lady… you ok?”
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” I released my hold, grabbing her by the arm and pulling the door shut behind
us. “What are you doing here?”
LeAnne smiled, setting down two large paper bags on the floor next to my kitchen island. “Well, to be honest, Bill and I have
been a little worried about you. You’ve kinda gone incommunicado the last several weeks since your layoff.” She glanced over
my shoulder towards the rest of the apartment, before her deep chocolaty eyes looked me up and down, nose wrinkling. I
realized then that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cleaned up around my place. Or showered.
“I’m fine…”
She raised an eyebrow, waggling a finger towards me. “You call this ‘fine’?” Then she leaned in closer, nose scrunched in
disgust. “Is that a… nacho cheese chip in your hair?”
Quickly, I raised a hand up towards my head, fishing out the offending chip fragment and tossing it it into the trash can next to
the sink. “Ok, well… I’m mostly fine.” Meeting her stern look, I waffled. “Fine. I probably could use a shower.”
“I’m pretty sure you need more than that, honey. Here.” She reached into the first bag and pulled out an assortment of grocery
items—bread, deli turkey, eggs, spinach, tomatoes, apples, tortilla chips, and salsa. The second bag revealed two bottles of
wine and Thai takeout.
“What’s all this?? You don’t have to worry… I can feed myself.” But even as I said the words, I could hear my stomach
grumble. Traitor.
LeAnne snorted back a laugh. “Clearly. But I’ve been where you are. Let me do this for you.” Then she gave me a
mischievous grin. “Bill said he’d cover the kids while I’m over here, so let’s make the most of it. Go on and take a quick
shower, so I don’t have to smell you over the takeout. I’ll take care of opening up this bottle of wine… then you and I are going
to dig into this food and catch up.”
I smiled gratefully. “Deal.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was cleaned up and parked next to my friend on the couch, doing my best not to inhale the pad thai
piled high on my plate. Had takeout always tasted this glorious?
“Ok, so what’s going on with the job hunt? Any leads yet?”
I made a face as I chewed. “None. I swear… beyond a few dead-end postings, nobody’s hiring, LeAnne. I’ve tried
everywhere. Even Portland General.”
Her eyes grew huge. “Damn, that is serious. No way in hell I thought you’d ever walk back into that place, unless you were
actually dying.” She took a sip of wine from her plastic tumbler before setting it down on the coffee table. “I wish I knew of
somewhere else to try. I even begged them at work to add another LPN position for you… but it’s a no-go. Sorry, hon.”
I shrugged. “It’s ok. Maybe all this rejection is a sign that it’s time to just give up on Portland.”
“What? And leave me behind? I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear you say that,” she said, shaking her head. “I still can’t
believe you’re letting that pervo doctor and his wife get away with this.”
“What choice did I have? No way would anyone believe me… I’m nobody. Alicia Milton and Phil Anderson hold all the
power here.”
“Stop that right now. You are not a nobody,” LeAnne said, twirling her fork in her mound of noodles. “But… you are too
damn nice for your own good.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not that nice, trust me. I just know when the odds are stacked against me.”
 “So what, then? You’re just going to give up?” She arched an eyebrow at me.
“No… just… weighing my options.” I slumped back against the couch. “Honestly, Portland hasn’t been as amazing as I
thought it would be. I mean, you’re the only friend I’ve got, and you have your own life and family to worry about. And with the
job shortage… I think I just need to pack it up and start over somewhere else.”
LeAnne considered for a moment. “A new city won’t magically solve your sad social life and everything else that’s wrong,
you know.”
I made a face. “Gee, thanks.”
“Hey, I’m just sayin’... you need to put yourself out there more. Take some risks.” She shrugged. “And besides… starting
fresh takes money.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You’re moving back home, aren’t you.”
I cocked my head to glance at her out of the corner of my eye, then sighed. “Probably. Just for a little while. I don’t think I
have a choice.”
LeAnne gave me a sad smile. “We always have choices, hon… but as much as I hate this one for you, I think you’re right. It’s
probably smart. Just to get your bearings, figure out your next move.”
“Yeah.”
“Just promise me you won’t become some old spinster recluse living in your parents’ basement.”
I rolled my eyes. “I promise. My sister wouldn’t let me, anyway.”
“Then I’m leaving you in good hands. Maybe while you’re biding your time there, you’ll finally land yourself in the hands of
some hottie for once?” she said, nudging me with her elbow. “I keep telling you, girl… you’re incredible, and way too
beautiful to keep yourself hidden away. I’m old and married. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me.”
“In Wishing? Not likely,” I said, snickering. “I’m going to miss you, though.”
“Of course you will,” LeAnne said, laughing. “I’m unforgettable. Now, are we gonna finish the rest of this bottle or not?”

After LeAnne left an hour later, I cleaned up our plates before returning to the couch with the last of the wine—and my phone
held up to my ear, waiting for an answer.
Might as well get this over with.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mom.”
“Jenna?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, who else would it be?”
I heard her sigh from the other end of the line. “No need to get snarky, dear. I was expecting to hear from your sister, is all.”
“Why? Where’s she at tonight?” I had texted Quinn to call me, but had yet to get a response.
“Who knows? But I told her I needed her to take a look at my Facebook account. I think I got locked out again somehow.”
I did my best to hold back laughter—our mother was known for being terrible with anything resembling technology. But
better for Quinn to play tech support than me—I doubted I had the patience to deal with any of that at the moment. “Yikes, sorry
to hear that.”
“It’s fine, Jenna. I’ll get it worked out, eventually." I heard the TV playing in the background—yep, another Golden Girls
marathon. "So, why are you calling? And how's work?”
I took a breath. “Well, that’s actually why I’m calling, Mom. I was thinking about moving home for a while.”
“Why? What about your fancy new job?”
“It… um… didn’t work out.”
Silence.
“Mom? You still there?”
Sigh. “Yes, dear, I’m still here. Am I allowed to ask what happened?”
 “Later, alright? I’d just… rather not talk about it right now.”
“Ok, then. And of course you can move back. We have some things that we moved into your old room a few months ago, but
I’ll talk to your dad about it. I mean, it’s been so long since you’ve been back to see us… we weren’t expecting you’d be
needing it anytime soon…”
Ah, there it was—-my mother’s trademark passive aggressiveness. “Yes, that’s fine. Please don’t go to any trouble on my
account. I won’t be staying for that long.”
“What do you mean? Where are you planning to go?”
“I just… never mind,” I said, eager to change the subject. I felt my phone vibrate, and I pulled it away from my ear to see a
text message pop up from Quinn.

QUINN: What’s going on? Call me.

Thank God.
“Listen Mom, I gotta go. I’ll let you know when I’ll be headed back to Wishing, ok? I need to figure out a few things here
first.”
“Ok, Jenna. I can’t wait until we see you! It’ll be just like old ti—”
“Yep. Bye, Mom.” I hung up before she could continue, feeling the annoyance build up in my chest as I sank back in defeat. I
just couldn’t believe this was happening. After working so hard to make a life for myself, all I’d done was mess it all up.

QUINN: Seriously, CALL ME.

Sighing, I clicked on my sister’s name to dial her through speaker phone. Seconds later, her voice bellowed throughout my
tiny apartment.
“What’s going on?? Why weren’t you responding to me?”
I snorted. “What do you mean? I texted you first, remember?”
“Yeah, sorry… Eric and I were out. But Mom just sent me a message saying you’re moving back home?”
Jesus… already? I shook my head, marveling at the fact that our mother could somehow figure out how to text and talk on the
phone at the same time—but still couldn’t handle her Facebook. The gossip instinct ran strong in our mother, that much was
certain. “Well, that didn’t take long. The whole of Wishing will probably be awaiting my arrival within the hour.”
Quinn snickered. “Are you really that surprised? But more importantly… are you ok?”
“I’m… fine. But do you have a few minutes?”
“Jenna-Menna-Pia, I have all night. Lay it on me.”
I felt myself relax a little, taking a sip of my wine before diving into the whole story with my big sister.
I just prayed that by the end of it, I’d have figured out how to prevent my entire life from going down the drain.
Chapter 5

Conor

I woke up to the sound of my doorbell buzzing. Groaning, I lifted my head from where I lay on the couch; the leather peeling
slowly from my grizzled cheek. Sitting upright now, I cradled my throbbing head into my hands, the buzzing noise once again
filling my flat like a swarm of belligerent hornets.
“I’m fucking coming, Jesus…” I grumbled, stumbling a bit as I made my way over to the door. Swinging it open, I couldn’t
believe the sight in front of me.
“Not Jesus… but hello to you too, son.” And with that, Seamus Kelly walked through the doorway, pulling me into his chest.
I stood there in shock for a moment, not quite sure of what to say—or what day it even was at that point. As Dad patted me
on the back, I felt the fog begin to clear a bit. I leaned back to look at his face, still trying to grasp what was happening.
“Why… when… what the hell are you doing here, Dad?”
Dad chuckled, pulling his suitcase in from the hallway before closing the door behind him. “Checking in on you, of course.
You’ve been avoiding my calls.”
“Yeah, well… I’m fine.” I walked back over to the couch and sank down into the cushions. My father seemed to hesitate
before sitting down beside me. I continued to gaze straight out my large picture window, not looking at him.
“Are you fine, Conor? Hard to know when I don’t hear a word from you.”
“It’s just… I’ve been… busy.”
I could feel my father studying me. “Busy not attending your therapy sessions?” I glanced over at him as he nodded. “Yes,
I’ve been making a few calls. We’ve all been worried about you, son.”
“Yeah, like who?”
“Well Mona and I, for starters. And of course Mick.”
“Mick?? He’s the asshole who fucking caused this whole mess.”
“Y’know that’s not true. Mick didn’t force that play or cause your injury. And it wasn’t his choice to cut you. He’s at the
mercy of decisions made higher up the ladder than him, just like you… and he needed to keep on with getting the team ready.
You know the pressure he’s under.” Dad leaned closer. “But getting cut’s no reason to stop your therapy.”
“What the fuck do I still need therapy for? I don’t have a team anymore, do I? Or a career? Foley said I’m done,” I said,
scowling. “And besides, you saw for yourself… I can walk just fine.” It was true, mostly. Even though I’d stopped attending
my therapy sessions, I’d continued on with the exercises at home—and was finally out of the boot. “Why the hell do I need to
waste my time on more therapy?”
“This isn’t about football anymore, son. Dr. Foley said you still need to keep working on strengthening your ankle, or it’ll
cause issues later on.”
“Fuck Dr. Foley.”
Dad held up a hand. “Alright, sorry… I’ll stop. I didn’t come here to lecture you.” His eyes scanned the room, and I suddenly
felt embarrassed at the state of it. I’d spent much of the past few weeks holed up at my place in front of the TV, having beer and
meals delivered to avoid having to see anyone. I wasn’t in the mood for company—or for the wake-up call my dad seemed
determined to give me at that moment.
But despite his words, I realized just how glad I was to see my father. The emotions of everything that had happened over the
past few months washed over me, and I felt the tears prick behind my eyelids. Dad must have noticed as well, reaching out to
rest a hand on my arm.
“I know all of this feels like shit right now, Conor. And I wish I had a way to make it all better for you. But I can’t. All we
can do is move forward.” He paused for a moment. “How would you feel about comin’ to stay with me and Mona for a
while?”
I raised an eyebrow. “To Oregon? Why the hell would I do that?”
 Dad shrugged. “Why not? Change of scenery might do you some good, and we’d love to have you there. It’s a beautiful place,
son.”
“But… what would I even do there?”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “What, is there something important occupying you here that you can’t bear to be away from?”
I scowled. “I thought you said I needed to be doing my therapy?”
“Yeah, well… there’s a new medical facility about twenty minutes from where we live. You could continue on with your
rehab there,” he said, smiling. “And in the meantime, y’know how I’ve been working on building that guest house and studio in
our back lot? It’s nearly close to being done… but having help in finishing it would be grand. You keep sayin’ how your old
dad isn’t as spry as he used to be.”
“You’re right about that, at least.” I smirked at him, both of us knowing full well he was far from old—I’d been born when he
was only a lad of twenty-three. I couldn’t even imagine being a father now, at twenty-nine.
We sat in silence for a moment as I pondered my father’s offer. I knew he’d been right about more than I was admitting to
myself. What the hell was I even doing here? My life in Stoningham, as I knew it, was over. I had no job, no plans—nobody
here anymore who gave a shit about me.
The calls and texts from my former teammates had dropped off for the most part after the press release—except for a couple,
like Arnie and Ron. All these men that I’d thought were my mates, abandoning me when it mattered most. My social life was
shit, and I hadn’t even been fucking laid since before the accident—a new low for me.
I was, in a word, pathetic.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Fine, I’ll fucking come with you to Wishful, or whatever that place is called.”
“It’s Wishing, actually. And I’m so glad to hear it, son. Mona will be thrilled.” He grinned, patting me on the shoulder. “This
calls for a celebration. But not here.” He glanced around. “Your place is… well… it’s fuckin’ disgusting, son.”
I chuckled, giving him a wry smile. “Yeah, sorry. But what the hell are we celebrating?”
Dad stood up, pulling me up into a standing position alongside him. “A fresh start, of course,” he said, winking. “Now,
where d’ya want to go? I’m starving, and I’ve been dying for a proper Guinness since I landed.”

One week later, I stood on the sidewalk outside of my flat, watching as a familiar black Audi pulled up to the curb. Ron
Tupper, Stoningham F.C. goalkeeper, hoisted his tall frame from the vehicle, slamming the door shut before crossing over to me
with a smile.
“Kelly, good to see ya. How’s the ankle holdin’ up?” he said, reaching out to slap me on the back.
I rubbed my shoulder, the mighty Tupper paw having left behind its usual sting. “Jesus, you never hold back, d’ya?” I shook
my head, smirking. “But it’s good. Almost back to normal.”
“Glad to hear it.” His smile faltered for a moment. “Can’t believe you’re leavin’ us, man. Team won’t be the same. That was
a real shit blow they dealt ya.”
“Yeah, well… fuck ‘em. I’ll be back on the pitch soon enough with another team as soon as I can get back to training again.”
Ron cocked his head. “Arnie said you can’t play, though? That the doc won’t sign off?”
I shrugged. “He’s just one doctor. No one gets to say I’m done with football but me.”
“Ok, man. Can’t say I blame ya. I wouldn’t take it lying down either. Can’t even imagine it.” His eyes darted past me. “When
d’ya take off to the States?”
I glanced down the sidewalk behind me, where my father stood directing movers as they carried furniture and boxes into a
moving truck. I had secured a small storage unit across town to store most of my things, at least until I figured out my next
move. But I’d decided it made little sense to hold on to my flat while I was gone—especially since I had no idea if I’d even be
returning to Stoningham at all.
I just wished I had some sense of where I’d land—or when the hell I would get my life back on track.
 I turned back to face my former teammate. “My dad and I fly out in the morning. Just a bit of a reprieve… I doubt I’ll be there
long. I’ll need to get back at it.”
“Sure, man, makes sense,” Ron said with a nod. Then he motioned behind me. “Anyway, thanks for calling. That the stuff
there?”
I turned towards the pile of boxes on the sidewalk behind me, upon which perched a small flatscreen TV. “Yeah, the TV and
stereo parts are all there. Where’d you say your brother was moving to?”
“Glasgow. Got some job in marketing there for Galleon Cleats. My mum’s mad that he’s moving so far away from Wales…
sure she’ll be drivin’ me and the other lads even crazier now.” He rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Anyway, he’s grateful for the
stuff. Hard to afford much at his age, it being his first place on his own and all. What do I owe ya?”
I pondered for a moment. “Nothing, mate. Don’t worry about it.”
Ron looked up at me in surprise. “Really? Come off it, I need to give you somethin’ for all this.”
“No need.”
“Well, that’s generous… thanks, man,” he said, slapping me on the back again. “And hey, if ya ever need a favor or anything,
you know who to call, ok?”
I smiled. “Sure thing, I appreciate it.”
I helped Ron load everything into the back of his Audi, watching him drive off down the road with a honk a few minutes later
before turning to walk back inside. My flat was almost empty now, except for my suitcases and a couple boxes of items I’d
packed to bring to the states with me.
It was strange how this almost didn’t seem like the same place anymore—it had been the first flat I’d been proud to call
mine, with all the nice things I’d never had before signing on with this team. And I’d done my fair share of showing it off over
the past few years—parties with my teammates, with women I’d brought home after a winning match, or a night out at the club.
A few delicious memories, with more than a few of them right where my couch once sat.
Now, though, these memories felt as distant as my life before going pro. All of it gone—thanks to one injury, one bad call.
One fucking mistake.
I squinched my eyes shut, feeling the anxiety of everything that had happened over the past couple of months rise in my chest.
“You ready, son?” Startled, I opened my eyes—I hadn’t even heard my father approaching.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” I grabbed a suitcase with each hand, my father leaning down to pick up the two small boxes.
Together, we walked into the hallway, and I shut the door behind us.
No sense looking backward anymore. I couldn’t change what had happened—but I had to keep myself focused if I was going
to reclaim what I wanted—-the life I was meant to have.
Chapter 6

Jenna

“Well, that’s officially the last of it.” Quinn set down the last box onto the hardwood floor of my new apartment, brushing the
hair from her face with a sigh as she sat down. The two of us—plus Quinn’s boyfriend, Eric—had spent the last couple hours
unloading the contents of the small trailer I’d rented to haul all of my belongings from Portland back home to Wishing.
I dropped down next to her on my ratty old floral couch. The last twenty-four hours had definitely run me through the
wringer. After leaving Portland in a fog of emotional defeat, I’d arrived yesterday afternoon at my parents’ house, trailer in
tow, filled with all of my crap—and it had taken everything in me not to just whip a u-turn and head back north again.
Turns out, my mother had turned my old bedroom into her ‘creativity sanctuary’—who the hell knew what that was
supposed to mean, as I knew for a fact I’d never seen my mother engage in any remotely creative activity like, ever. All it took
was one look at the piles of craft supplies and boxes strewn about to realize she must be in the throes of some sort of artsy
midlife crisis, and I wanted no part in it.
Especially since this now meant that there wasn’t a speck of space available for her youngest daughter—beyond the dank and
drippy unfinished basement my parents were now graciously offering as an alternative.
Naturally, my mother saw nothing wrong with this plan—after all, my father had already set up my old twin bed with
grandma’s patchwork quilt and a nightstand, a rod suspended from the rafters as a clothing rack—and a space heater, just to
‘keep out the chill’.
Quinn, spotting the horror in my eyes and my mounting panic, guided me back outside and over to her place to form a new
game plan.
I mean, seriously? There was no way in hell I was going to further cement my sad, directionless life and inevitable
spinsterhood by living out the remainder of my days not only in my childhood home—but in the basement, no less.
It’s like I couldn’t avoid the ‘pariah’ stamp from following me, no matter where I went.
Thankfully Quinn was on it, and had already been scouting out alternative options for me—knowing I would last no more
than twenty-seven seconds living back at home with our mother.
And she had come through in spades, securing this cute little apartment over Perk O’Late, our favorite coffee shop in town.
Her coworker at the vineyard, Mike, had a sister who now owned not only the coffee shop, but the entire building—and as the
apartment above the shop had been sitting vacant for more than a year, Sara had been more than willing to offer it to me at a
massive discount.
It was perfect. Not only because of the proximity to my favorite praline lattes, and the freedom from my parents’ basement—
but because I was completely and utterly broke.
But even there, the tides seemed to be turning—because I already had a plan in place to improve my finances as well.
After a remote interview the previous week, I’d secured an LPN position at the new medical arts facility, Willamette Valley
Wellness, just fifteen minutes north of Wishing. I’d be working in the rehabilitation portion of the facility—-new for me, but I
liked the idea of gaining some additional experience in another sector. Working as an LPN may not be my dream I’d hoped it
would be—but maybe this job would open some new doors for me.
So despite the fact I’d landed myself back in the small town I swore I’d left behind in my rearview mirror—young and naïve,
bound for bigger things—I finally felt something resembling hope again.
I glanced over at Quinn, who now had her eyes closed as she leaned against the back of the couch. “I can’t believe I’m back
here.”
She opened her eyes to give me a look. “Come now, Wishing isn’t that terrible. I mean, I’m here… right?”
“And don’t forget about me,” Eric said as he walked through the door with a grin, floor lamp in hand. He shut the door
behind him as he set down the lamp, wandering over to plop down across from where we sat.
He and Quinn began dating a couple years prior, when the former band Eric had been a member of, Flynt Fyre, played a gig
at Three Wishes—which also happened to be the same bar I’d waited tables at after high school. Their lead singer, Aidan
Flynn, ended up falling hard for Meg Pratt—Quinn’s friend, and the daughter of the former owner of the bar. Eric met Quinn
during that same visit, and according to her, it was ‘love at first sight’.
After the band eventually broke up, both Eric and Aidan decided to make their stay in town permanent. Eric moved in with
my sister—much to our parents’ chagrin—and the two of them had been together ever since. After quite a few hangouts over the
past couple of years whenever they came up to Portland, I’d grown to love Eric’s upbeat, laid-back personality—and of
course, how happy he made my sister.
“Yes, yes… you’re both amazing. As if you needed me to tell you that.” I said, rolling my eyes. Then I grinned. “Seriously,
guys… Thank you so much. I never would’ve made it through all of this without you. I’d probably still be wasting away in
Mom and Dad’s basement if you hadn’t rescued me.”
Quinn snorted back a laugh. “I’m pretty sure you were perfectly capable of rescuing yourself… I just happened to have some
lucky connections to toss into the mix.” She glanced down at her watch. “Speaking of Mom and Dad, we’re supposed to be
over there for dinner in an hour. She’s already pissed that we stole you away… don’t wanna make things worse.”
I sighed. “I suppose. But let’s first drop off the trailer at that rental place outside of Albany… we can still make it there
before they close if we book it.”
As we drove along the roads to Albany, I watched the two of them in the front seat—Eric’s hand resting on Quinn’s as he
held the steering wheel of his truck with the other, my sister looking over at him and smiling. They looked so in love, so in tune
with one another.
I mean, I was happy for my sister—but their thick-as-thieves relationship was also a reminder of how completely lame my
own love life was by comparison. Although could someone who’d never even had a true boyfriend even claim to have a ‘love
life’?
All I knew was I’d had enough of being the nice girl, of being complacent in love and life—of letting the world walk all
over me.
Maybe all of this was just the push I needed to finally step into the shoes of ‘Confident Jenna’—and get everything I ever
wanted.
Now if only I could figure out what that was.

“So, here’s the break room… everyone in the whole place uses it. Even the OB/GYN docs from women’s health, but they don’t
like to mingle with the rehab team much.” Tamara, the rehab center aide, rolled her eyes while gesturing to the doorway on her
right as we walked down the hallway. She’d been assigned to give me a quick tour of Willamette Valley Wellness on my first
day—friendly and talkative, I liked her immediately.
I grimaced. “Yeah, that’s ok… I’ve had more than my fair share of mingling with gynecologists.”
Tamara raised an eyebrow. “Ok, there’s a story there, and I know you’re going to tell me eventually. But for now,” she
gestured broadly, “here’s the highlight of the tour.”
I looked curiously at the clinic door before us, flanked by wide windows that read Willamette Massage Therapy. “A massage
office is the highlight? Am I missing something here?”
“Oh, you’ve definitely been missing this in your life… but not for long.” As she spoke, the door swung open, and a heavily
muscled, drop-dead gorgeous man with a perma-tan, bulging muscles and dark wavy hair strode out.
I’m pretty sure my mouth was hanging open, because Tamara elbowed me and hissed, “Pull it together, woman!” as he
approached us. “Hey, Keith! How’s your day looking?”
Keith flashed us a megawatt smile. “Just fine, Tamara… especially now that I’ve seen you ladies.” He stopped in front of
me. “Hi, there…I’m Keith, the head masseuse here at the center. And you are…?”
Somehow, I found my voice. “J-Jenna. My name is Jenna. I’m the new LPN over in the rehab department.”
“Ah yes, Jenna… I heard your name being mentioned around here. Glad to finally meet you.” He leaned in, and I caught a
deeper whiff of his cologne. “Feel free to stop by later if you need a helping hand with anything, ok?” He winked. “I’ll see you
lovely ladies later.”
“Um… yeah. Thanks.”
So much for ‘Confident Jenna’. I sounded like a blithering idiot.
As he walked away, I turned to Tamara. “Ok, wow.”
Tamara nodded dreamily, her eyes tracking Keith as he walked around the corner. “Yup. Total man candy.” Then she looked
back at me. “But he’s mostly just pretty to look at. His goodies are more ‘fun-size’ than ‘king-size’, if you know what I mean.”
I snort-laughed loudly before I could stop myself. “Ok, it sounds like there’s a story there… and I’m guessing you’ll tell me
eventually, right?”
Tamara’s face broke out into a wide grin. “Girl, where have you been all my life?” She linked her arm through mine as we
turned to head back to the rehab department, both of us laughing.

I had just finished running the vitals on my last patient of the day and was washing my hands when Patti, the receptionist,
peeked her head around the corner.
“Hey, Jenna… you remember the patient that was supposed to be here after lunch? Well, he just showed up.”
I groaned. “Ugh, really? Is Dr. Garvey even still around to see him?” It had been a busy first day, and I was barely moving at
this point—and counting down the seconds until I could head back to my apartment with my celebratory takeout. I could almost
taste the pad thai already.
She shrugged. “Yeah, he said he’ll squeeze him in before he leaves for his golf game… that way, we can get his new patient
appointment wrapped up. This guy’s eager to get on the therapy schedule ASAP.” She glanced back towards the waiting room,
then lowered her voice to a whisper. “But at least this one’s a looker. Definitely better than your last few,” she said, giggling.
I sighed. “Ok, I’ll come up and grab him. Give me a sec.” Patti nodded, then disappeared back to her desk.
I spent a few seconds glancing in the mirror above the sink, trying to smooth back the strands of light brown hair that had
escaped from my ponytail. My green eyes looked tired, though—there wasn’t much I could do about that.
Not that I cared about impressing this guy—anyone who showed up three hours late to an appointment was probably a jerk,
anyway.
And I was about to be proven 100% correct.
I walked out to the waiting room a moment later. “Mr. Kelly?”
A young man sitting in the far corner of the room rose from his chair, and I took in the sight of him—tall, muscular frame with
broad shoulders, a thick swath of dark, coppery brown hair, and piercing blue eyes that locked right onto mine.
I stood frozen for a moment, taken aback both by how damn attractive this man was, and the bold way he was now looking
me up and down. I shook my head, trying to bring my brain back to reality. “Right this way, please.” I opened the door leading
back towards the treatment area, and Mr. Kelly sauntered towards me, his eyes still on me as he passed through.
Feeling rattled, I led him down a short hallway and into Exam Room Two, where we both took a seat after shutting the door.
I glanced at the chart in my hand as I pulled up his information on the computer. “Ok, Mr. Kelly… My name is Jenna, and I’ll
be getting you started before Dr. Garvey pops in to see you. May I ask what your visit is about today?”
He smirked. “Well, I was told I had to start out by seeing a doctor here before I could resume my physical therapy treatments,
so here I am. No need to waste much of the doctor’s time, except for maybe another set of x-rays.” His accent was smooth and
lyrical—Irish, maybe? Whatever it was, I had to admit—it was pretty hot.
No, Jenna… focus. The patient is not hot. You know what’s hot? Pad thai. That’s right… pad thai and Netflix are waiting.
I gave him a look out of the corner of my eye. “Yes, well, you’re very lucky that Dr. Garvey could still see you today… since
your appointment was actually scheduled for three hours ago.”
He at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry about that. Still getting used to the time here. I only just
arrived in the states a couple weeks ago.”
“I see. Where are you from, Mr. Kelly?”
“The name’s Conor, lass. My father’s Mr. Kelly,” he said with a smirk. “And I’m from Ireland, originally. But I’ve been
playing football for a pro team in England the past few years.”
Ah… an athlete. Figures.
Not that I’d had a ton of experience with athletes, beyond my time playing soccer as a kid. But I’d seen enough to know that
athletes—especially the talented ones—often came with giant egos to match.
“Ok, well… let’s take your vitals so we can get you to your doctor, Mr. Kelly. Can I have your right arm, please?”
“Conor.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said you can call me Conor. But I’ll be more’n happy to give you anything you want, Jenna.” His eyes were twinkling now
with what looked like mischief, and most definitely the dirty kind. He took my hand in his, rubbing his thumb against my palm,
and I felt a jolt of energy zip up my arm before I came to my senses and snatched it back.
Face flushed, I grabbed his arm and yanked it towards me, roughly feeding it through the blood pressure cuff I held in my
other hand. “Fine, Conor. Now please, rest your arm and sit still for a moment, so I can take this reading.” I focused my eyes
on the gauge as I squeezed the pump, refusing to meet his gaze. Not that it mattered—the way his eyes were undressing me, I
could practically feel my purple scrubs disintegrating against my will.
I had no idea what this guy’s goal was here—but the fact that he was somehow managing to get me all riled up over nothing
was pissing me off. I was a professional, goddammit, and I didn’t need this kind of crap on my first day at a job I intended to
keep—at least, for a while.
I felt the fingers from his outstretched hand begin to gently trail along my forearm. I did my best to act unaffected, focusing
instead on my task, pumping faster.
“Ouch! Christ, woman… you don’t have to squeeze the life outta me, do ya?”
I startled, realizing I had totally lost track of what I was doing.
God, Jenna… pull it together.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry… I just… got distracted for a moment.” I glanced quickly at the reading on the gauge before
releasing the air, fumbling with the cuff a moment later as I worked to remove it.
Conor chuckled, then leaned over to squeeze my hand. “It’s alright… I know the effect I have on women.”
I looked at him sharply. “You weren’t affecting me. I was just… thinking about what I needed to wrap up before I can head
out.”
“Sure you were.”
“I was.” But I noticed he was still holding my hand. Why had I not moved my hand?
He smirked. “So, it had nothing to do with me touchin’ you like this, then?” His hand released mine, as his fingers went back
to tracing a path along my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “I can tell you like this… no need to be shy.”
“I-I’m not shy. I’m just being professional, Conor. Mr Kelly.”
“You can be professional and still like it when a man touches you, Jenna.” His hand drifted up towards my face, pushing
away a strand of hair that had fallen forward.
“This is not appropriate, Mr. Kel—” But before I could finish my objection, he quickly leaned in, gently pressing his mouth
against mine, tongue darting between my lips and releasing a moan.
Wait, no… it was me that made that sound. Shit!
I yanked myself back, head spinning as I bolted up out of my seat. “Mr. Kelly, I don’t know what sort of ‘care’ you think an
LPN is supposed to provide… but you have completely crossed the line here.”
Conor shrugged as he sat back in his seat, eyes twinkling. “Maybe. But I don’t hear you saying you didn’t enjoy it, lass.”
“I… didn’t say I did, either.”
“Your lips said otherwise.”
I felt my face blaze even hotter. What if he reported me? God, this man was infuriating. “I’m done here. I’ll grab Dr.
Garvey.”
“Ah, what a shame. But I’m sure I’ll see you around soon enough, Jenna.” I heard him laugh as I turned and stormed out of the
room, slamming the door shut behind me. Dr. Garvey was already walking towards me, and jumped at the noise.
“Everything ok?”
“Yes… sorry, Dr. Garvey. I just… pulled the door too hard. Still getting used to things around here, I guess.” A hysterical
laugh bubbled out of me, earning me an odd look from the doctor. “Sorry. Anyway, Mr. Kelly is ready for you.”
“Of course.” Then he smiled kindly. “Glad to have you here, Jenna. Have a good night.” He grabbed the handle to walk into
the exam room, and I scurried off down the hallway towards the staff locker room. I gathered my things quickly—I needed to
be gone long before Dr. Garvey was done with that man.
Not that it mattered anyway—because Conor Kelly was now on the rehab roster for the foreseeable future. Like it or not, I’d
be seeing him again soon enough.
As I walked out the front doors of the building towards my black hatchback, I suddenly remembered that I’d committed to
having dinner with Quinn and Eric at my parents’ house tonight to celebrate the first day of my new job. I groaned out loud—I
was not in the mood to deal with my mother, but canceling would inevitably be worse.
Farewell, pad thai. So much for my quiet night in.
I slammed the car door shut, mourning the loss for a moment—then I texted my sister.

ME: Please tell me you are bringing wine to Mom and Dad’s tonigh
QUINN: Um, duh. Lots of it, too. And we’re gonna go out afterwards, ok? Band playing tonight at TW.

I sighed as I dropped my phone back into my lap, turning the key in the ignition. Yeah… not a relaxing night.
But as I made my way out of the parking lot, I softened—maybe what I needed was just to let loose a little, shake the day out
of my system. And then, figure out a game plan. Because I couldn’t let an incident like the one I’d had with Conor Kelly
happen, ever again. With everything I’d dealt with over the past few years, the last thing I needed was more work drama.
Especially that kind of work drama.
I needed stability, focus and a fresh start… more than I needed anything else.
Right? Right.
Chapter 7

Conor

“So, how’d it go?”

I pulled the passenger door shut, yanking the seatbelt across my chest as I glanced over at my father. I was still feeling
somewhat apprehensive about diving back into therapy, but Dr. Garvey had seemed decent enough.
“It was fine… just a basic, meet-the-doc appointment before I can get back into it,” I said, shrugging. “He took new scans,
though… said my ankle still looks like it’s healing well.”
Dad turned his black SUV out onto the road to start the drive back to Wishing. “Well, that sounds promising. Did he say when
you’ll start with PT, then?”
“Yeah, on Wednesday. It looks like three sessions a week for now.” But my mind was far from rehab at that moment, and
more on the pretty nurse who’d been taking my blood pressure earlier. I smirked as I remembered how rattled she’d been when
I’d touched her arm, when I’d kissed her.
I didn’t know what the hell had come over me, kissing a woman in the middle of her workplace—even that was out of
character for me. Probably just needed to feel something other than altogether pissed at my life and everyone in it. And the
woman was lovely, with those gorgeous green eyes and full lips of hers, nursing scrubs hugging her slender curves in all the
right places.
But as we drove further along the road leading away from the clinic, I replayed the scene again—this time, with a bit of a
clearer head. I was being a fucking tosser—it had been wrong of me to cross the line like that. Especially as she’d definitely
seemed pissed. Couldn’t say I blamed her, considering the circumstances.
But after a long dry spell, it’d felt so damn good to see that I still had that effect on women.
Because for all of her grousing afterwards, Nurse Jenna had definitely kissed me back—no denying it.
I noticed my father glance over at me. “You’re quiet. What’re you smiling at?”
“Nothing. Just… thinking about the appointment. Feeling a little better after seeing the doctor.”
But for the rest of the drive, I couldn’t help but replaying those few minutes in my mind.
Jesus Christ… I need to get fucking laid.

As we turned down the tree-lined road leading towards home, I saw the main house come into view between the tall pines.
For as much as I’d dragged my feet leaving England a couple of weeks prior, I had to admit—my father had chosen a beautiful
place to call home. The modest-sized house had been his wife Mona’s before they’d met, an A-frame cabin style with large
windows that captured the views of the forests and hills surrounding Willamette Valley.
Behind the house stood the small art studio Dad had been working on finishing for the two of them—space for him to work
on his pottery business, and a section near a large window where Mona did her painting. Connected to this were the guest
quarters, just a simple bedroom and bathroom. Though it wasn’t anything fancy, Mona’s artistic touch was obvious in the space
—nature-inspired prints hung on the white walls, with textured pillows and blankets in varying shades of green and beige
covering the bed, and a large side window that filled the room with sunlight. It was almost difficult to see the line where the
room stopped and the outdoors began.
Of course, I’d kept the shades tightly shut when I’d first arrived—both from jet lag, and denial over how far away I was from
where I should be. But lately, I hadn’t minded the view; in fact, I found myself kind of liking it. Not that I’d say as much to
anyone, of course.
Though I had to admit, coming from a bustling city like Stoningham, living amongst the peace and quiet felt strange, almost
too quiet. It reminded me a bit of the small village where I’d grown up in Ireland, before it was just me and Dad.
But I rarely thought about those days anymore. Nor did I want to. No sense wasting another second of my time in the past.
Nothing worth having there.
Dad pulled his SUV to a stop beside a familiar blue car parked outside of the house. “Ah, Tyler beat us here.” He glanced
over at me, smiling. “Better get inside so we can help Mona with dinner.”
“You’re so whipped, it’s pathetic.” I shook my head, laughing at my father’s sheepish shrug as we both climbed out of the
vehicle. Walking inside the house, we were instantly hit with the sounds and smells of Mona’s cooking, floating through the air
along with some sort of classic rock song I couldn’t quite place. My stomach rumbled in response. Damn, that woman could
cook.
Mona was stirring something on the cooktop as we entered their bright and airy kitchen, surrounded by warm wooden
cabinets, a marble island and a long, raw edge wooden dining table flanking the room. Even though it looked nothing like any
of the places I'd lived before, it gave me that feeling of home the first time I’d walked in almost two weeks ago.
“What’s for dinner tonight, love?” Dad had walked up behind his wife now, wrapping an arm around her as he leaned in to
kiss her on the cheek. Mona giggled, setting down her wooden spoon before turning to face him.
“Careful, now… you almost made me drop this in the pot.” She noticed me standing by the table and smiled. “Oh hey, Conor.
Would you mind chopping up the avocado? Seamus, you can do the salad. We’re having white chicken chili tonight.”
My father had met Mona Pratt—now, Kelly—nearly two years ago, when she and her daughter, Meg, had made a trip over to
Ireland to find my second cousin, rocker Aidan Flynn. Dad and Mona ended up crossing paths at a pub in Dublin one evening—
and as they both tell the story now, it was love at first sight. Meg found herself engaged to Aidan on that trip, and my father
proposed to Mona soon after she’d returned to the States.
Mona was much like her home–-warm and welcoming, with a youthful spirit about her you couldn’t help but feel drawn to.
And over time, I’d shifted from wary to accepting of her presence in my dad’s life. It was hard not to, when he seemed so
happy. And it had been a long time since I’d seen my father this happy, much less over a woman.
So although their marriage meant my father and I no longer lived on the same continent, I’d resigned myself to accept it, and
be glad for him. As the only sure thing in my life for almost as far back as I could remember, I owed my father that much, at
least.
But there were moments where I’d find myself feeling guarded around her, struggling to feel truly at ease. Anyone could see
that Mona had been making a true effort to make me feel welcome here. And I liked her—she was a good woman, without a
doubt. Likely just an adjustment, having a woman present on the regular. Not my usual way, of course—back in England, it was
always someone new coming home to my flat. Anything more was messy, complicated.
“Hey, Conor… Mom’s got you on kitchen detail, I see.” Tyler, Mona’s son, wandered in from the living room with a grin and
a couple of beers, which he handed off to his mom and my dad. “Want something to drink?”
“Sure, yeah… I’ll take an IPA, if y’don’t mind.” Tyler had been coming over quite a bit during his off hours from helping his
sister Meg run their family’s music bar, Three Wishes—he was a good guy and near my age, so I didn’t mind having him
around.
Tyler was back a moment later, and he pulled out a chair at the table next to where I sat chopping avocado. “I heard you
started rehab over at the new wellness center today. How was it?”
I shrugged. “Fine enough, I guess. Just met with my new doctor to settle some details and scans before I start sessions next
week.” My mind drifted back to the shy nurse, and I couldn’t help but grin at the memory again.
“Hmmm… seems like it must’ve been more than fine,” Tyler said, giving me a curious look. He took a sip from his beer
before turning towards Mona. “What time are Meg and Aidan supposed to get here?”
“Geez, impatient much?” Meg’s voice called out behind us as I heard the door slam. A moment later, both she and Aidan—
along with their baby girl, Rosie—entered the kitchen, my step-sister setting down a bottle of wine before playfully punching
her brother’s arm. “I literally saw you an hour ago at the bar, and I told you what time we were coming. You never listen to
me.” Tyler rolled his eyes—but the sibling love was obvious beneath their banter.
Aidan slapped me on the back as I set down my knife, bouncing Rosie in his other arm. “Conor, good to see ya, mate. We
still need to go out and grab a pint one of these nights… catch up properly.”
“Let me know when you lads make plans… I’ll tag along,” Dad called over his shoulder from where he stood, mixing a large
salad.
“Not this time, Seamus… Conor and I need a night on our own. Can’t have his daddy tagging along as chaperone every time
we do something. The lad will never spill all your dirty secrets that way.”
Dad chuckled. The two of them were first cousins, and only ten years apart in age. Before Aidan and his brothers had gone
global with their band, Flynt Fyre, he and my dad had been pretty close in their younger years. “Oh, fine… leave me out. I
mean, I’d hate to cramp your style.”
I snorted back a laugh. “Besides, my old man doesn’t have any dirty secrets.”
“Watch it, son… or I’ll spill yours instead,” Dad teased, winking.
“Jesus, the pair a’ you are too much alike.” Aidan grinned, nibbling on Rosie’s tiny fingers as she smacked her hands against
his face. She gurgled happily—what a strange sight to see someone like Aidan Flynn with a baby. But somehow, the bastard
made fatherhood look almost appealing.
Almost.
“Hey, Aidan… you should come out with me and Conor tonight. I was gonna bring him back over to the bar for drinks after
dinner… I need to check on a few things anyway,” Tyler said.
Meg finished opening the bottle of red wine she’d brought in with her, pouring a glassful. “Yeah, babe… why don’t you go
out with the guys? Rosie and I will hang out here with Mom. We’ve got plenty of wine to tide us over.”
“And me.”
“Yes, Seamus… you’re invited to hang with the ladies, too,” Meg said, laughing. “We’re clearly a much more inclusive
bunch, anyway.”
I smirked as I walked over to the stove, setting the cutting board with avocado next to Mona. “Yeah, sure, why not? I haven’t
been out much beyond the house since I got here. Probably should try to salvage whatever I have remaining of my social
skills.” I glanced over at Tyler. “Any women hang out at your club?”
Tyler chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course. But do you think you can handle Wishing women?”
Aidan grinned. “It takes a rare man to do it. But, only one way to find out, eh?”
Chapter 8

Conor

The three of us walked through the back entrance of Three Wishes a couple of hours later, in the mood to let loose a little. The
bar had clearly undergone some additional renovations since Mona and Dad had last sent me photos. I knew Meg and Tyler had
invested a shit ton of time and money into the place over the past year or so, working to build it from a pizza bar into a true
music destination—and it showed. A much larger stage with professional-looking lighting and sound equipment filled the
addition they’d made to the building, though the rest of the place seemed to have kept the vintage vibe that everyone around the
town apparently loved.
For his part, Aidan had been working on expanding the gig calendar since he’d mostly retired from performing himself. The
band on stage tonight, by some weird coincidence, was playing the same song I’d heard on the stereo at Dad and Mona’s
earlier—but this version of the song was a little different. Edgier, maybe. At any rate, I liked it.
I nudged Aidan with my elbow. “Hey, great band tonight. Who’s this song by again?”
“The original’s by Mumford & Sons, man,” Aidan said with a smirk. “Christ, it really has been a long while since you’ve
been out, eh?”
“Feels like a fucking lifetime,” I said, laughing. We followed Tyler towards the mahogany bar that lined almost an entire
wall of the place. He walked around behind the counter.
“What do you two want?”
“Guinness for me,” Aidan said, then turned to me with a devilish grin. “And you, Conor? How about a root beer? I bet Tyler
here could find you a twisty straw, too.”
“Sod off,” I scowled at him, before turning back to Tyler. “Gin & tonic, if ya don't mind. D’ya have any Irish gin?
Glendalough?”
Tyler shook his head, now laughing as well. “Aidan and your father have both tried… but Meg hasn’t been convinced yet.”
I sighed. “Figured as much. Tanqueray then, if you got it.”
“Done.”
As Aidan wandered away with his pint to get a closer spot near the stage, I leaned back against the bar, scanning the room. It
was packed for a Monday night. Everyone in the place seemed to be really into the band as well—a handful of people were
already dancing in front of the stage.
One of them even looked vaguely familiar. I narrowed my eyes to get a better look, and that’s when I realized—it was her.
That nurse from earlier—Jenna, was it?—dancing along with another woman. Light brown hair versus blonde, though the two
seemed to resemble each other. Sisters, maybe?
She was laughing, head tossed back, as she danced, long brown hair cascading in waves down her back. Her shoulders were
bare, as she was wearing some sort of loose tank top over hip-hugging jeans. Her arms waved over her head as she swayed to
the music, stumbling a bit in the process.
I felt Tyler nudge my elbow with my cocktail, and I reached back to grab it. Taking a sip, I felt the gin burn its way down my
throat—but I couldn’t take my eyes off that woman. It was obvious she was more than a little drunk, but at least she looked to
be having fun.
And she definitely looked a scant more loosened up than the uptight nurse I’d kissed hours earlier. It almost didn’t seem like
the same woman.
I watched as she made her way over to the bar ten or so feet away from me, not noticing me from where I sat at the end. Tyler
was still behind the counter chatting with an employee, and I saw her face light up as she appeared to recognize him.
“Tyler! Is that really you? It’s been like… for-ever.” Nurse Jenna propped an elbow on the counter and leaned her head
against her palm, all with a weird-ass smile plastered on her face. Tyler glanced over, looking amused.
“Hey, Jenna! I heard you were back in town. How’ve you been?”
 Keeping her elbow on the counter, Jenna tried easing her lower half onto a barstool—which began sliding away in the
opposite direction. She nearly lost her balance before managing to catch herself on the edge of the bar.
It was all I could do not to bust out laughing—but I was way too invested now to interrupt this incredible scene playing out
before me.
Jenna ran a hand through her hair for a moment, then turned her smile back to Tyler. “I’m good… reeeeal good. Got a new
job, too. I’m really, really happy to be back in Wishing. Really happy.” Then her eyes widened. “OMG, do you still work here?
We need to catch up!”
Tyler smiled patiently. “Yeah, Meg and I own the place together now.”
Jenna was finally sitting now, head propped once more, gazing at him dreamily. “Oh, wow. That’s ah-mazing, Tyler. I wanna
know everything.”
Oh my God… she was into him.
Tyler seemed to be barely holding back laughter now himself. “Ok, Jenna… but maybe not tonight. How about coffee later
this week?”
“Yes! I live on coffee!!”
“You… what?”
Jenna released a giggle that went on for way too long. “Oh, Tyler… you’re so funny. You know what I mean… I live on top
of a coffee shop… we can have coffee together there! It’s perfect!”
“Ok,” he said, chuckling, grabbing a notepad and pen to hand to her. “Here, why don’t you write down your number, just to
make sure I still have the right one.” I watched as she lowered her eyes about four inches from the paper as she struggled to
focus on what she was writing. Then slowly, she slid the pad back across the counter while gazing straight at Tyler—in a move
I could only assume was meant to be flirtatious.
Fuck me, this was painful.
“Thanks, I got it.” Then he paused, a look of concern flashing across his face. “You need a ride home or something? Or a
glass of water?”
“Naw, I’m here with Quinn… and I don’t want water. Water’s boring. How about a Cosmo?”
“I think you’ve had enough for tonight, Jenna.” Tyler gave her a smile, then slid a glass of water across the counter. “Get
home safe, ok? And drink this. I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait.”
Tyler walked back in my direction while chuckling, obviously not realizing I’d been eavesdropping on his conversation.
“Hey, you want to go sit up there with Aidan? I’ll grab my drink and join you guys.”
“Why don’t you go on ahead? I just wanna sit here for a moment, take it all in.”
Tyler shrugged. “Alright, see you in a few.” As he wandered over towards Aidan, I glanced back over at Jenna, who was
now just staring at her phone while sipping water.
“You waiting on a call or something?”
Her head swiveled over towards me, gazing blankly for a moment. Then I saw the connection slowly forming in her mind as
she pointed at me with one wobbly finger.
“Sleezy Irish Guy.”
I raised an eyebrow. “It’s Conor, actually.”
“That’s what I said.”
I smirked. “How much have you had to drink, exactly?”
“I’ve had a completely appropriate amount of alcohol, thankyouverymuch,” Jenna snarked back, straightening up. “Not that
it’s any of your business.”
“Yeah, well… I only ask, because it seemed like you were kinda throwing yourself at Tyler over there.”
She made a face, scoffing. “No, I was not.”
“Yeah… ya were. You like him, admit it.”
“Whatever. Tyler’s an old friend, is all. And I do not need to explain myself to you anyway, Mr. McSleezy.”
“Mr. Kelly.”
“Right… that’s what I said.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, anyway… if you were trying to get Tyler’s attention, you were doing a right shit job of it. You
probably scared him off.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, did I? Damn it.”
“So you are interested in him?”
“God, you’re so annoying… ok, fine. I like Tyler. Sue me for having a little fun.”
“Well, I hate to tell ya, lass, but you’ll never end up in his bed if you keep up that approach.”
“WHAT… that’s not… ugh!” She covered her face with her hands, groaning. “Just shut up and leave me alone, ok? Isn’t
there someone else you can go bother?”
 “I could help, if ya want…”
Wait, what was I doing?
Jenna shifted her fingers a bit to peer through them. “What do you mean, ‘help’?”
I shrugged. “I’m quite good at getting what I want when it comes to women. I could give you some tips, help you to loosen up
a bit in the right ways… maybe get Tyler to see you the way you want him to.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And why, exactly, should I trust you? You didn’t get what you wanted with me.”
“Didn’t I?”
Her face flushed, and I knew I had her.
“Don’t believe me? Just watch… and learn.”
I turned and wandered over to the dance floor, where a woman with long, dark hair was dancing on her own. The band had
shifted to a slower tune, and I walked straight to her, pulling her into my arms for a dance.
“Wait, what the…?”
I leaned in close to her ear. “It’s ok, lass… just wanted a dance, is all. What’s your name?”
“Lani.”
“Ok, Lani. My name’s Conor. I’m trying to prove a point to that girl back at the bar,” I said, subtly motioning with a nod of
my head. “You see her?”
I watched as her eyes shifted past me, and then back again. “Ok. What is that you want me to do, exactly?”
“Are you here alone?”
“Well… I’m just here with my friend, Nikki.”
“Alright. What if I told you I’m a pro footballer from England?”
Her eyes widened. “You are? What are you doing here?”
“Just visiting family.” I slid my hands down her hips, swiveling her around so I could get a better view of the bar. Sure
enough, Jenna was watching us intently, though I couldn’t quite tell by her expression what she was thinking. I ran my hands up
again to Lani’s back, pulling her in closer. I wanted to make this look convincing. “Tell you what… if I cover your bar tab,
would the two of you be willing to leave the bar with me right now? Just to walk outside… then you can both be on your way,
and I’ll take care of your bill.”
Lani looked at me, confused, as we continued to sway to the music. “Why, exactly?”
“I just want that woman to think we left together. I’m trying to win an argument.”
She paused for a moment, considering, as the song came to a close. “Lemme ask my friend for a quick sec, ok?”
“Alright.”
Lani broke away from me and walked over to where her friend sat a few tables away. I leaned against a nearby post,
waiting. They chatted animatedly for a moment—then the two of them walked back to me.
“Can you prove it?”
I cocked an eyebrow at her friend. “Prove what?”
“That you’re a famous football player.”
“Yeah, sure.” Turning my back towards the bar to shield it from view, I pulled out my phone, scrolling to an article I’d kept
saved on one of the last Stoningham F.C. wins of the season. They’d included a shot of me mid-play—looking at it now, I felt
another pang at the memory of everything I’d lost.
I shook my head. Focus, man.
The two women eyed my phone screen for a moment, then looked at each other. “Ok,” Lani said, handing back my phone.
“We’ll do it.”
“Brilliant.” My lips curled up in a smile as I draped an arm around both women’s shoulders—and the three of us walked,
slowly and deliberately, towards the main doors. I saw Tyler and Aidan staring as we passed by their table—Tyler looking
confused, Aidan shaking his head and looking amused. As we moved closer towards my main target, however, I could see her
mouth practically hanging open.
Victory.
I smiled triumphantly, winking at Jenna as I pulled both Lani and Nikki tightly against me. “G’night, lass. My number’s on
that pad there, if you need it.” As I saw her start to sputter and work to form a retort, I simply turned and guided the ladies past
her and out the door.
The three of us continued on further down the block until I was certain Jenna hadn’t followed us. Then I dropped my arms,
taking Lani’s hand and pressing it briefly to my lips. “That’s it, ladies. Thanks for the help… truly, it was a pleasure. And don’t
worry, I’ll make sure your tab is taken care of. I know the owners.”
I noticed Lani was now looking at me from beneath her lashes, a slow smile forming on her face. “Thanks a lot. But… Do
you have to run off already? We could… go somewhere else, maybe…”
I glanced over at Nikki, who by now just looked annoyed. When I turned back to Lani, though, her eyes were all fire. She
was pretty hot.
 Ah, what the hell.
“‘Somewhere else’, eh? What’d you have in mind?”
Lani stepped closer, face tilting up towards mine. “I live just a few blocks away… maybe you could tell me all about
England?” I heard Nikki sigh behind us and mutter something, her footsteps finally carrying her away. But neither of us paid her
any mind.
There really was only one thing on my mind now—and it had nothing to do with England or uptight nurses.
Maybe this was exactly what I needed tonight.
The sun had already dipped below the horizon, but the air still felt balmy on this early August evening. I led Lani off the
sidewalk to stand beneath the awning hanging over the darkened window of Valley Drugstore. Just enough privacy, still with an
element of risk—exactly how I liked it.
Leaning into her, I brought my lips close to her ear. “So, what do you want to know about England?”
She pressed her body closer as I slowly began trailing kisses down her neck—God, she smelled good. Lani let out a low
moan, and I felt her hips grinding into me, my cock already starting to respond. “I wanna know everything,” she whispered, her
voice husky as her hands traced my chest through the dark blue t-shirt I wore. “Are you, like, really famous?”
“Well, to an extent…” I said, covering my mouth with hers. I didn’t want a fucking gossip session with this woman—I
needed to move things along.
But Lani pulled back from my kiss, a teasing smile dancing upon her lips. “Not so fast, sir… you’re supposed to tell me more
about yourself. Like, who do you play for? I bet you score all the time…” I felt my body stiffen, barely noticing now as she let
her hands fall downward to the bulge pressing against my pants. Immediately, I regretted having brought up anything about
myself, or my life back home. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about anything to do with football or Stoningham F.C.—
especially now, when I was cut off from all of it.
What the fuck was I even doing, trying to prove myself to anyone here? My life was none of their goddamn business. I could
feel my momentary interest and desire for this woman evaporate—the quick lay wasn’t worth it tonight.
I pulled away. “Sorry, lass… just remembered, I’ve got an early morning tomorrow. But it was nice meeting you, alright?”
Watching her face fall in confusion, I turned on my heel, heading off in the general direction of home. East, though not nearly as
far East as I wished for. As I walked, I sent a text to Aidan and Tyler, so they’d know where to find me.
My body still pulsed, though, aching for release. I sighed, annoyed. Once again, I was going to have to fucking take care of
my own needs tonight. At least the longer it took to walk back, the more it would lessen. So there was that, at least.
I wouldn’t have minded going back to Lani’s place—a few months ago, I’d have already been in her bed by now. Lord
knows I was bloody in need of having a woman wrapped around me again. But despite how hot she may have been, all the
chatter about my life had put a stake through that. Pissed me off that I couldn’t even have a bit of fun without it being ruined by
reality at every turn.
As for the guys’ night I’d abandoned back there? I’d just apologize to them both, and explain later. Not that I really knew
what I’d tell them.
Truth be told, the best part of the night had been watching that little scene play out between Nurse Jenna and Tyler—and the
look on her face as I’d pulled my little stunt at the end.
To be honest, I’d no idea why I’d even done it. And whether Jenna called me or not was really up to her. But I realized then
—I hoped she would.
Beyond working on my rehab and my inevitable return to football, giving that shy, uptight little nurse a lesson on how to
properly snag a man—even if the man in question was sorta my step-brother—might be exactly the kind of distraction I needed
while trapped in this place. Even if I wasn’t the one getting some, in the end.
After feeling defeated for months, I’d actually had moments today where it felt like I was finally getting a bit of my spark
back—and that feeling was bloody incredible. I knew then that I needed to keep that feeling going if I was ever going to get my
life back on track.
I’d do almost anything to make sure I never lost it again.
Chapter 9

Jenna

I dropped my keys on the small table near my door, leaning against it with a groan.
God, it had been a day.
I’d woken up with one of the worst hangovers of my life—which was saying something, because I was a total lightweight
when it came to alcohol. For about the twentieth time today, I silently cursed my sister for letting me drink so much. Thank God
for Eric picking us up at the end of the night.
Or at least, I was pretty sure it was Eric. Honestly, I barely remembered anything after we’d left our parents’ house. And
judging by Quinn’s text earlier today, she wasn’t faring any better than I was.
I walked over to the couch, flopping down face first without bothering to take off my shoes. Even hours later, I still felt like
shit. If it hadn’t been my first week at this job, I would’ve called in sick for sure. But as it was, I’d shown up—in all of my
blurry-eyed, pounding-headed, hungover glory.
All I wanted now was a hot shower, and then to bury myself in a blanket with a rom-com running on the TV in the
background as I wallowed in my misery.
Before I could convince myself to get up, however, I felt my phone buzz from where it lay wedged beneath my leg. Rolling
my hip ever-so-slightly, I yanked it out and held it up to where my face lay pressed against the cushion.
TYLER: Hey, Jenna… hope you’re doing ok today. Let me know when you wanna grab that coffee.
TYLER: Oh, and it’s Tyler, btw… in case you didn’t have my number saved on your phone.
I bolted upright. Tyler Pratt?? What was Tyler Pratt doing, texting me? It had been like, what, four years since I’d last seen
the guy? The two of us had waited tables together at Three Wishes when I still lived at home—though I’d already had it bad for
him years before that. Not that it mattered, because I’d done literally nothing about it. I’d thought about him quite a bit over the
years, but we’d lost touch somewhere along the way.
And now here he was, texting me out of the blue. Had he heard I was back in town?
One thing was obvious, though—based on the current fluttering in my chest, those feelings I’d harbored for him were still
alive and kicking. And he’d clearly held onto my number—maybe that was a good sign?
Slowly, pieces of last night came floating back through the fog in my mind.
Quinn and I, dancing at the bar.
Seeing—oh my God, TYLER—across the room, and making my way over to him.
I think I remember talking with him, and I vaguely recall writing down my phone number. But I had no idea what else might
have gone down between us.
Oh God, please tell me I didn’t make a complete idiot of myself in front of the guy I’d been hung up on forever. Life
couldn’t be that cruel… right?
Groaning, I flopped over again, dangling my arm off the edge of the couch and letting my phone drop to the rug. I didn’t have
it in me to form a cool and perfectly articulate response to Tyler right now—it would have to wait.
It was then that I noticed a crumpled piece of paper lying a few inches away beneath the coffee table. Leaning down, I
snatched it up, smoothing out the creases to find the words ‘Conor Kelly’—along with a phone number I didn’t recognize—
scrawled across it.
It took me a second to even realize why the name sounded familiar. And then it hit me.
Why the hell do I have that prick’s phone number??
Yanking the throw pillow out from behind me, I rolled onto my back and proceeded to smother myself with it.
I may not know exactly what happened last night, or what any of this meant yet—but one thing was certain.
If Conor Kelly was somehow involved, it couldn’t be good.
 Sure, I’d barely just met the guy, but my apprehension was warranted—considering what had already gone down between us
in a handful of minutes.
And yes, I found him attractive. Ok, hot. But that did not excuse his actions.
Because regardless of how hot he was, or how damn sexy I found his accent—I knew what trouble looked like when it
walked through the door. If I managed to get my act together to start dating again around here, I wanted a nice guy.
I mean, I deserved a nice guy, dammit. Someone like Tyler Pratt.
And after waiting so long to break the new-and-improved Confident Jenna out of her prison—a cocky, womanizing British
athlete was not going to be the sort I’d just hand over my virginity to.
Yep, there it was, that humiliating detail—I was a twenty-six-year-old virgin. I still didn’t really know how it had happened,
to be honest. There were no high-and-mighty, chaste motives behind it—not in the least.
I was absolutely more than willing, just… choosy. And fine, maybe a little afraid of screwing it all up somehow. Especially
after holding onto it for way too damn long.
I was that painfully shy girl in high school—always keeping to myself, lacking the confidence to speak up, preferring to
remain in the background. Quite the opposite of the bubbly and outgoing Quinn, who’d always had a boyfriend of some sort and
a vibrant social circle surrounding her. I’d had a few close friends, a couple of them guys, but… never a boyfriend. That was
basically the extent of it.
After I’d arrived in Portland, I decided to suck it up and put myself out there—but I just couldn’t seem to get out of my head.
My longest relationship—if you could even call it that—had only spanned something like four dates. Hardly noteworthy.
I mean, I didn’t think I was totally undateable—but without fail, my shyness tended to filter out most of the men I was
interested in from the get go. Or I'd manage to find a million reasons why it would never work. And if someone made their way
through those barriers, it rarely took more than a couple of dinners for things to fizzle out anyway.
It was more of a blow to my pride than anything—it’s not like I’d ever had my heart broken. There was only one person I’d
ever had true feelings for—Tyler—and that had gone nowhere.
And if I couldn’t get up the nerve to ask out someone I’d known forever, how the hell would I ever have the guts to ask out a
total stranger?
I lifted the pillow from my face as I sat up, tossing it to the floor. God, I was just so tired of feeling… stuck. I’d let myself
slide back to the beginning, tail between my legs—all of my former friends long gone, off living their own fabulous lives.
What had I managed to accomplish?
Getting yourself laid off but never actually laid. The voice inside my head cackled.
I sat up in a huff. Screw it. Now was the time to be bold and assertive, not to just lie around and mope like some loser. I
needed to stop letting life just happen to me all the damn time.
I was a grown-ass woman, and it was time to start acting like it.
Picking my phone up off the floor, I pulled up Tyler’s message again.
ME: Hey, Tyler… I’m doing great. How about coffee next Saturday morning? Looking forward to i
Take that, Old Jenna.

The following afternoon, I stood washing my hands at the small sink near the nurse’s station when I heard a familiar voice
behind me.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite nurse. I see you’ve recovered from the other night.”
I spun around in horror to come face-to-face with Conor Kelly, standing there in a fitted t-shirt and athletic pants, wearing a
cocky grin that made me want to slap it right off of his smart mouth.
“What are you talking about??” I grabbed a paper towel, quickly drying off my hands before tossing it into the trash bin.
His blue eyes glinted with mischief. “I think you know, Jenna.”
 “Clearly, I don’t. And I think you’re just trying to drive me crazy.”
“Oh, I’d definitely be willing to do that… if you were ever up for it.”
Instantly, my cheeks blazed at his innuendo. What the hell was he doing??
“Seriously, Mr. Kelly?? Are you trying to get me fired here?”
He shrugged. “I told ya… it’s Conor. And, of course not. But if you aren’t up for more… intimate activities, my other offer
still stands.”
I looked at him, confused. “What ‘other offer’?”
“To give you a hand with Tyler Pratt.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My eyes darted around frantically, making sure no one was catching our exchange.
Thankfully, the coast seemed clear—for now. “And I don’t need help with Tyler. He’s just a friend.”
“Sure didn’t seem like you only felt ‘friendly’ the other night.” He leaned in closer. “You were fallin’ all over yourself for
that man, lass.”
A few more of the missing pieces from that drunken night began to slowly click back into place. I remembered talking with
Tyler… and Conor was there… and, I’m pretty sure we talked?
No, wait. Was I actually trying to flirt with Tyler?
Oh my God… he was right.
That’s why Tyler texted me. Shitcakes.
“Oh my God…” I suddenly felt sick to my stomach again.
“Ahhh, yes… it’s comin’ back to you now, is it?”
I dropped my head into my hand, trying to knead out further memories of that night. Did Conor actually leave the bar with
two women? “Seriously, stop. I can’t talk to you about this right now. Don’t you have a therapy session to get to?”
He held up his hands in mock defense. “Now, now… no need to get all testy. I’m just trying to help.” An amused smile
played at the corners of his mouth. “So, what d’ya say? Meet me for a drink after you’re done here?”
I groaned. “If I agree to meet you, do you promise you’ll leave me alone?”
“‘Course not. I’ll be coming here for rehab, won’t I?” he said, smirking. “But I’ll stop buggin’ you about Tyler, if you’ll at
least hear me out.”
“Fine. The Dugout. Seven p.m. One drink.”
“It’s a date.”
“This is not a date.”
Conor saluted as he backed away. “Whatever you say, love.” Then, turning on his heel, he headed back towards the therapy
gym for his session with Mark, one of our PTs.
As I watched him go, I couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself
into yet again.
Chapter 10

Jenna

A few hours later, I opened the front doors to The Dugout, the smells of stale beer and peanuts intermingling with the sounds of
classic country music in the air. Feeling transported against my will to the age of twenty-one, I took a few hesitant steps inside.
Quickly scanning the bar, it looked like I’d beaten Conor here—until I heard his distinct voice call out from behind me.
“Over here, lass.” I turned to see him waving from a small table in the far corner, feeling annoyed.
I really need to stop letting that guy get under my skin.
Heaving a sigh, I made my way over to his table, pulling out the chair across from him. I mean, I guess this wasn’t the worst
spot. At least here we were less likely to be spotted by anyone I associated with. The last thing I needed was any small town
gossip about Jenna Barry fraternizing with the hot Brit at Wishing’s most notorious hookup bar.
“Hang on a sec,” Conor said, motioning to one of the bar staff—a pretty twenty-something, who I thankfully didn’t recognize.
She wandered over to the table, and it was evident by the look on her face that the two had already interacted before I’d
arrived. He looked over at me. “What’ll you have?”
“Just a coke for me, please.” As Conor gave me a look, I shook my head. “I can’t stomach anything harder after Monday
night.” I turned back to the server. “Can I get an order of ranch fries with that, please?”
“Sure, no prob.” Then she smiled at Conor. “Anything besides the IPA for you, Conor?”
He returned the smile, giving her a wink. “No, I’m good. Thanks, love.”
As she walked away with a giggle, I rolled my eyes. He caught my expression with a raised eyebrow. “What?”
“Is this your schtick with all women?”
“Whatever d’ya mean?” he said, feigning ignorance.
“Come on, you know exactly what I mean. Do I need to remind you what you pulled on me at the clinic earlier this week? I
could’ve lost my job, you know. And it was my first day.”
“Well, if you had, I’d be making an apology.” Then he grinned. “But as you didn’t lose your job, no harm done, right?
Besides, don’t tell me you didn’t like it, at least a little.”
“No, I actually didn’t.” I felt my face begin to flush again. Damn him.
“Lips don’t lie, Jenna.”
I scowled at him. “Whatever. Can we just change the subject, please?”
“You’re the boss,” he said, grabbing his beer and taking a slow sip. “So, what’s the deal with you and my brother?”
I froze. “Your… what??”
“Y’know, Tyler.”
“No. No. No way are you two related. I've known him for most of my life.”
He chuckled. “Well, we’re not truly related. Not by blood, anyway. His mum married my dad two years ago now. So, we’re
sort of like… step-brothers. Whatever the hell that means.”
“That’s right… I remember hearing that Mona got remarried. Good for her.” Then I eyed him warily. “Please tell me your
dad is nothing like you.”
Conor was full-on laughing now. “Well, if you’re asking if he’s as handsome as I, few are,” he said, winking. “But my dad’s
a good man.”
“Well, Mona is incredible, but she’s no pushover. At least I know she can take care of herself.” Our server, Tia, arrived back
at the table with my coke, and a steaming hot basket of ranch fries. Instantly, my mouth began watering as I reached over to pop
one into my mouth. Heaven. These fries were, in my humble opinion, the only good thing about this place. I looked over at
Conor. “Want some?”
“That pile? Those are an insult to potatoes.”
I snickered. “What? They’re seriously the best.” I pushed the basket towards him. “Here. Try one.”
 “Nope.”
“Suit yourself.” I grabbed another, this time dragging it through the seasoned sour cream dip perched in the basket before
taking a bite. “So, your dad remarried. What happened to your mom?”
Conor seemed to tense. “What’s this, an interrogation? Thought we came here to discuss your obsession with Tyler.”
“I am not obsessed.”
“Yeah? Looked that way to me the other night.”
Frustration rising in my chest, I stood up to gather my things. “Forget it, you’re impossible. This was a stupid idea. I don’t
know what I was thinking...”
He rose up halfway from his seat, holding out a hand to stop me. “Sorry, lass… I’m just playin’ with you. Please, sit.”
I gave him a look, but obeyed, slowly lowering myself back into my seat.
He took a breath. “Look, I’m stuck in this town for a while with my dad while I work on rehab. And I need somethin’ to keep
my mind busy. So, just thought I’d offer.”
“And what makes you think I need your help?”
“Because when I saw you with Tyler… like I said, you were fallin’ all over yourself.” He noticed the dirty look I gave him
and smirked. “Sorry… but it’s true.”
“Rude.”
He shrugged. “Just tellin’ you what I saw firsthand, lass.” His expression then became curious as he took another swig of his
beer. “So, what is it about Tyler, anyway? Why him?”
I blushed. “I don’t know… I guess I’ve liked him for years now, ever since high school. We worked together at the bar years
ago, and I guess it just… happened.”
“Yes, but… you aren’t telling me why. What is it you like about him?”
I thought for a moment. “Well, for starters, he’s kind. And smart, responsible, attractive… a decent man. And he’s been a
good friend to me.”
Conor smirked. “So… pretty much the opposite of me, then. Minus my devilishly good looks, that is.”
“Your words, not mine,” I said, biting back a smile.
“Noted. Let me ask you this… d’ya want him to see you as someone he could be with? To be attracted to you in that way?”
“Of course I do.”
“Well, men don’t like crazy. Most of us want a woman who’s confident… easygoing… sexy… knows what she wants.”
I sighed. “Well, that’s a problem.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I don’t think I actually qualify in any of those categories.” I grabbed another fry, showing it into my mouth… then
grabbed two more.
What the hell, right?
“Ah, now… I don’t think that’s true.”
“Trust me, it is. And if it wasn’t, why would I now be completely stuck in all areas of my life? Especially when it comes to
men. I just get in my own way.” I looked at him. “To be honest, I’m trying to decide right now why I should even be listening to
your advice in this area.”
He looked amused. “Why’s that?”
“I don’t know your track record with women. I mean, maybe you’re worse at this than I am.”
“Jenna, I left the bar with two women that night. You really think that’s true?”
The fuzzy memory of talking with Conor, standing with his arms around a couple of ladies, now drifted back across my
mind.
Which explains why he gave me his number and kicked all of this off. Jesus.
“Ugh, fine. I give up—please, help me. I just need something to go right in my life.”
“In my capable hands, it will,” he said, grinning.
I narrowed my eyes. “But no funny business. Got it?”
He saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
But there was one thing that still nagged at me. “So what’s the real reason you want to do this, anyway? Surely not just
because you’re bored and stuck here?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“You aren’t looking for a way to make a fool out of me, are you? Because I do that plenty well on my own.”
Conor locked eyes with mine, his expression now seeming… genuine? “No, ‘course not.”
“And you want nothing from me in return?”
He thought for a moment, then his eyes lit up. “Just one thing.”
Here we go.
I eyed him suspiciously. “What’s that?”
 “I can’t drive right now because rental cars have been scarce with tourist season, and my dad needs his during the day. He’s
been dropping me off at rehab, but I’ll now be going three days a week for the next month or so. If I push my sessions to the end
of the day, would you mind driving me home?”
“What? No.”
“Consider it dual purpose. We can talk sexy strategy on the drive.”
I groaned. “I feel like this is a terrible idea.”
He leaned towards me from across the table, eyes glinting with mischief. “Or… it could be the fucking best idea I’ve had
yet.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh good grief, fine. Only three days a week?”
“Three days a week… starting today. And you have to be nice to me at the clinic, too.”
“Only if you promise to keep it professional. No more kiss assaults.”
A deep laugh escaped his chest, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll do my best. Now, let me try one of those godforsaken
fries of yours. I’m starving.”

CONOR: Safe drive home. Kinda pissed at you for introducing me to those bloody fries.
ME: You’re welcom
Chapter 11

Conor

“Ok, Conor… twenty leg extensions, nice and slow, starting… now.” Mark, the physical therapist I’d started working with the
previous week, started his timer as I stood at the parallel bars.
It was Friday afternoon, our fifth session so far, and we’d been at it for an hour. Mark was tough, vigilant, and I liked that
about him—I didn’t have time for any half-ass effort. And I had to admit, he was way fucking better that the PT I’d worked
with back in Stoningham.
It made me wonder how much further along I’d be by now if I’d started with someone like Mark. Maybe I’d never have been
cut from the team in the first place.
As I went through the exercise, I felt myself starting to fade, but I kept pushing until I hit twenty. Mark stopped the timer.
“Under a minute this time, great work.” He glanced at my face. “How’re you feeling?”
“Good. Let’s keep going.”
Mark smiled, shaking his head. “No, I think that’s enough for today. But work on those exercises I gave you this weekend,
ok? Just don’t overdo it.”
“Alright mate, you win. See you Monday?” I wiped my face with a towel, grabbing my bag.
He nodded. “Yep, Monday.”
Bag slung over my shoulder, I walked out of the gym towards the clinic lobby, thinking about the sessions I’d had the past
couple of weeks. I was sore, but it felt… good. Like I was actually making some strides towards my goal of being back on a
pitch again. All I needed was a couple more months of this and I’d be back in action—maybe in time to put out feelers for a
mid-season pickup back in England.
I was itching for it—never had I been benched for this long before. I knew well enough that if I waited much longer, my
window would be closed—for good.
Before my thoughts could drift further, I spotted Jenna stepping out of the last exam room ahead of me, arms piled with
charts. Today her hair was pulled back into some sort of messy bun atop her head, though a few strands of her light brown
waves had escaped and were trailing along the back of her neck. I had no idea why, but seeing her look somewhat less than
perfect was sort of—endearing. And kinda sexy.
“Hey, lass… you ready to go?”
Jenna sighed as she set her stack of paperwork onto the counter of the nurses’ station, plopping down into the closest chair.
“Yeah, soon. I just need to wrap up a few things, and then we can go. Give me ten?”
“Sure, I’m in no rush.” I set down my bag, grabbing the next closest chair and settling in.
“Are you seriously going to sit there and stare at me while I work?”
I shrugged. “Nothing better to do.” As she continued to glare in annoyance, I sighed, pulling my phone from my hip pocket.
“Relax. I’ll just catch up on the news. Is that acceptable to the lady?”
Jenna gave me a look and muttered something under her breath, but turned back to her paperwork, anyway. I didn’t give two
shits about the news, but I clicked on the Stoningham newsfeed anyway, out of habit.
There at the top of the feed was a shot of my old team, with the headline, Stoningham F.C. gears up for their second pre-
season match against Langford United. And then, the subheading: Team is stronger than ever with new striker Phipps, says
Mullens.
Fuck.
I shouldn’t have been surprised—it was mid-August already. Of course they were starting up with the pre-season series. But
it still felt like a blow to the ego—stronger than ever? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? And who the hell was
Phipps?
But I already knew the answer to both pointless questions—even more signs that my team was moving on without me.
Meanwhile, I just sat here, biding my time in a shit town thousands of miles away, trying my fucking damndest to get back to
where I was a few short months ago.
Replaced and displaced.
I didn’t bother reading the rest of the article, shoving my phone back into my pocket. What was the point, anyway? All it had
done was piss me off.
I noticed Jenna glancing at me out of the corner of my eye.
“What? Ya done yet?”
She tilted her head, curious. “Almost. You just… made a noise. Everything ok?”
“I’m fine. Just wrap it up, so we can get going, ‘kay?”
She shrugged but said nothing, returning her gaze back to the computer screen in front of her. We both sat there in moody
silence as she typed, until finally, she leaned back in her chair with a sigh. Then she reached for her phone. “Give me a sec to
quickly place my pad thai order… I’m starving.”
I smirked. “Pad thai, eh?”
“Yep. It’s my absolute fave. And it’s been calling my name all freaking day.” I watched as she bit her lower lip in
concentration, clicking through a few more screens on her phone before setting it down. “Done! Just need to grab my bag from
my locker… meet you by the doors?”
“Yeah, whatever.”
A few minutes later, the two of us were settled in her small black SUV, turning onto the highway that would lead us back to
Wishing. We drove along in silence for a moment until I heard her clear her throat.
“So… how did today’s session go?”
“Fine. Mark’s a good PT. Hate to admit it, but he’s better than the one I had back in Stoningham.”
“Yeah, Mark is pretty great. But why do you hate admitting that?”
“I just… miss home. Wanna get back to England, is all.”
She glanced over at me, her eyes kind. “I get that. I really am sorry Conor, about your injury. That had to have been so hard to
go through, losing what you have.”
“Whatever, it’s fine.” I noticed her chewing on her lower lip again, now feeling my pulse raise in response. I cleared my
throat. “So, let’s hear your game plan with Tyler. You’ve been avoiding the question the past couple of weeks… I’m tired of
waiting while you play chicken. What’s your strategy?” So far, our car conversations seemed to have been derailed by random
small talk—and I was starting to get peeved.
Jenna snorted, pulling out what looked like a granola bar from her work bag. “Strategy? I already told you, I have no
strategy. I thought that’s where you were supposed to come in. Besides, I’m not avoiding anything… I’ve just… been busy.”
Peeling open the wrapper, she took a bite.
“Liar.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Fuck, woman… am I supposed to do everything for you?”
“Well, you claimed to be the expert, not I.” She paused. “Actually, I forgot to mention, I did text Tyler… well, he actually
messaged me a week or so ago. Anyway, we’re meeting for coffee tomorrow.”
“Cute. And are you plannin’ to share knitting patterns with the man over a nice hot cuppa and a scone?”
She whipped her head sharply to look over at me. “Ok, is this seriously how this is going to keep going with us? Because if
it is…”
“Sorry, lass. I’m just… feeling a bit off, is all.” I sighed, leaning my head back against the headrest. Then I turned my head,
glancing back at her. “Coffee’s a start. But like I told you last week, you’ve got to put yourself out there more with him.”
“Meaning…?”
“Be assertive. Don’t just sit there clutching your mug, acting all shy. Be interesting. Make him want a second date. Suggest
one.”
“See, this is where I struggle! I’m sure he looks at this just as a little catch up chat between two old friends. What do I have
to offer that’s intriguing enough to warrant a second date with someone I’ve known forever?”
“I’d say you have plenty to offer,” I said, feeling a rush of blood as I cleared my throat. “And you haven’t seen him much
over the last few years, have you? Show him how you’ve changed, or maybe what he missed the first time.”
“Uggghh… this is not helpful.” She tugged on the elastic holding together the pile of hair atop her head, and it tumbled down
around her shoulders as she sighed. I could smell the faint scent of her shampoo—coconut, maybe?—and I felt my fingers
twitch, itching to reach out and run my fingers through her golden brown waves.
Speaking of ‘not helpful’… what the hell’s your problem? Focus on the task at hand, man.
“Why’s that?”
“Because… I’m no different from back when he and I used to hang out. And it didn’t go anywhere then either.” She sighed.
“I’ve always been the good girl, too shy. And where has it gotten me?”
“Ah, now… I’m sure that’s not entirely true.” I held up a hand as she began to protest. “Fine, maybe you haven’t changed all
that much. And yes, you’re kind of a ‘good girl’. But you know that’s not all you are. And Tyler doesn’t know everything about
who you are, right?”
She frowned. “Maybe…”
“All I’m sayin’ is, now’s your chance to step into who you want to be. So, ask yourself—who is that, Jenna?”
As she went silent again, lost in her own thoughts, my mind wandered back to the article I’d started reading earlier.
Team is stronger than ever with new striker Phipps, says Mullens.
I couldn’t stop obsessing over who this Phipps bloke was, or the fact that I hadn’t heard anything from my teammates about
him or anything else in… well, weeks.
Not that I’d tried reaching out to anyone, either. Since leaving Stoningham last month, I’d felt so disconnected from
everything in my life I’d left behind. But after reading this bit of news, I wondered if perhaps I’d made a mistake in cutting
myself off like that.
There was a small part of me that wanted to text Arnie, to hear my old co-striker confirm that Phipps was just some
temporary replacement, nowhere near my talent. That they were all just waiting for me to send word that I was ready to get
back into the game.
But in reality, I knew that wouldn’t be the response I’d receive. No one there was waiting for me. And besides, even if they
were—I knew I wasn’t ready yet. I’d been making further progress on my ankle, sure. But the twinge was still there, anytime I
pulled out a football and ran drills behind Dad and Mona’s house. Not painful really, but… not as strong as I knew it needed to
be, so I’d be ready for the Premier league.
I made a mental note to talk to Mark about this at my therapy session on Monday. I didn’t have time to approach this
conservatively anymore—we needed to kick up the intensity of my exercises if I had any hope of getting picked up mid-season.
The question I’d posed to Jenna a few minutes ago drifted forward again in my mind. Now’s your chance to step into who
you want to be. So, who is that?
If anyone would’ve asked me that question a few months ago, the only possible answer I’d have given them was, main
striker, top-tier team, Premier League. There was no alternative, right?
But now? I couldn’t deny it—hearing my former manager proclaiming they were ‘stronger than ever’ without me was a shot
to my ego. If I didn’t stop fucking around, I’d be stuck here forever.
I needed to make this work. If not with my old team, then another.
As we pulled into Dad and Mona’s driveway, I glanced over at Jenna again. She hadn't said a word for the remainder of the
drive, concentrating on the road—but as the car came to a full stop, she spoke.
“So I’m really just supposed to pretend to be someone I’m not in order to get Tyler’s attention? Is that really what men
want?” She looked at me, the conflict clear in her eyes.
As was the smear of chocolate along the edge of her mouth.
I chuckled—and then, without thinking, leaned towards her. Reaching out, I trailed my thumb gently across her full lips,
wiping the smudge from them before I brought it back towards my mouth, sucking it off slowly. I saw her eyes widen in
surprise as she sucked in her breath. Or was she feeling more than that?
Because I was damn sure I felt my cock twitch at that exact same moment. It was enough to make me freeze.
What the hell was I doing?
“Um… exactly what was that about?”
I quickly looked away, clearing my throat. “Sorry, love… you just had a little… chocolate on you.” A flush spread across
Jenna’s face as she dabbed at her mouth in the rearview mirror.
I needed to get out of this car before I did something I’d later regret. Grabbing both the door handle and my duffle bag in one
motion, I hoisted myself from my seat, pausing for a moment to lean my head back inside the car.
“Men want a woman who’s confident in who she is and what she wants, Jenna. Even over these last couple of weeks, I’ve
seen hints of it in you. Be that version of yourself, and my step-brother would be a fucking tosser not to want a chance with you.
Let me know how it goes.” Slamming the car door shut before she could respond, I walked up the driveway and back around
towards the guest house, feeling her eyes follow me as I went.
As I dropped my bag on the floor of my room, I sank down onto the bed with a groan. So much for shelling out advice, when
I seemed to be just as stuck as that woman was.
Stuck… now, with a definite hard-on. Guess I’ll be helping myself yet again.
I may have no fucking clue of how I was going to get back what had been taken from me, but one thing was clear—if I didn’t
get on track and out of Wishing soon, I’d end up losing myself in ways I wasn’t willing to.
Another random document with
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rostro y meneos del cuerpo me
enbiaua mensajeros de su pena.
Pero yo disimulaua pensando que
cansandola se acabaria su
pasion: y ello no era ansi, pero
cada dia creçia mas; yo reçebia
grandissima pena en verme
puesto en tanto peligro, y
pensaua de cada dia cómo se
podria remediar, y creyendo que
sola el ausencia seria el
remedio[581], doliame apartarme
de la compañia de mi amigo
Arnao. Por lo qual muchas vezes
llorando amargamente maldezia
mi ventura y a Sathanas pues a
tanto mal auia dado ocasion; y
estando pensando cómo me
despediria, como fue acabada la
feria acordó Arnao que nos
boluiessemos a Paris, y ansi
mandó a toda furia aparejar; y
estando todo lo neçesario a punto
dixome que partiesse yo con su
dueña, que él queria quedar a
negoçiar çierto contrato que le
faltaua, y que le fuessemos
aguardando por el camino, que a
la segunda xornada nos
alcançaria. Dios sabe quánta
pena me dio oyr aquel mandado,
y me pessaua no auer huydo
antes, pensando que fuesse
vrdimbre de Sathanas para
traerme por fuerça a la ocasion de
ofender; y por el contrario fue muy
contenta Beatriz, pensando que
se le aparejaua la oportunidad
forçosa que yo no podria huyr; y
ansi disponiendonos Arnao todo
lo neçesario, tomando la mañana
començamos nuestro camino; yua
Beatriz muy alegre y regocijada
lleuandome en su conuersaçion.
Deziame[582] muchos donayres y
gentilezas que el amor le
enseñaua, debajo de los quales
queria que yo entendiesse lo que
tenia en su voluntad, no se
atreuiendo a descubrirse del todo
hasta verse en lugar oportuno que
no la corriesse peligro de afrenta,
porque le pareçia a ella que yo no
respondia a su intinçion[583] como
ella quisiera. Avnque algunas
vezes juzgaua mi couardia ser por
que temia descubrir mi trayçion, y
ansi ella se desemboluia algunas
vezes demasiadamente por me
hazer perder el temor, y sufriasse
pensando que aquella noche no
se podria escusar sin que a ojos
çerrados se effectuasse la prueba
de nuestra voluntad; y ansi
aquella xornada se cumplió con
llegar ya casi a la noche a vna
villa buena que se llama Bruxelas,
que es en el mesmo ducado de
Brauante. Donde llegados mandé
que los moços diessen buen
recado a las caualgaduras, y al
huesped preuine que tuuiesse
bien de cenar; y pareçiome
çiertamente estar acorralado y
que en ninguna manera podia
huyr aquella oportunidad y
ocasion, porque çierto senti de la
dama que estaua determinada de
me acometer, de lo qual yo
demandé socorro a Dios; y como
fue aparejada la çena venimos a
çenar, lo qual se hizo con mucho
regoçijo, abundancia y plazer, y
como fue acabada la çena
quedamos sobre la tabla
hablando con el huesped y
huespeda su muger en diuersas
cosas que se ofreçieron de
nuestra conuersaçion; y como fue
passada alguna pieza[584] de la
noche dixe al huesped por
manera de cumplimiento: Señor
gran merçed reçebiré, que porque
esta Señora que comigo traygo es
muger de vn grande amigo mio
que me la fió, duerma con vuestra
muger, que yo dormiré con vos.
Beatriz mostró reçebir esto con
gran pena, pero calló
esforçandose por[585] la disimular;
y el huesped respondió: Señor, en
esta tierra no osamos fiar
nuestras mugeres de ninguna otra
persona mas que de nosotros,
quanto quiera que venga en
habito de muger; porque en esta
tierra suçedió vn admirable caso
en el qual vn hijo del señor deste
ducado de Brauante en habito de
muger gozó de la hija del Rey de
Ingalaterra y la truxo por suya
aqui; y como Beatriz vió que se le
aparejaua bien su negoçio,
avnque se le dilatasse algo,
inportunó al huesped le contasse
aquella historia como aconteçió.
Lo qual no me pessó a mi
pensando si en el entretanto
pudiesse amaneçer; y
importunado el huesped ansi
començó: Sabreis, señores, que
en este ducado de Brauante fue
en un tiempo vn bienaventurado
señor, el qual tubo vna virtuosa y
agraviada dueña por muger. Los
quales siendo algun tiempo
casados y conformes en amor y
voluntad sin auer generacion, y
despues en oraciones y ruegos
que hizieron a Dios suçedió que
vino la buena dueña a se
empreñar y de vn parto pario dos
hijos, el vno varon y el otro
hembra, los quales ambos en
hermosura no tenian en el mundo
par; y ansi fueron los niños
criados de sus padres con tanto
regalo como era el amor que los
tenian; y como fueron de vn parto
fueron los más semejantes que
nunca criaturas fueron[586]; en
tanta manera que no auia hombre
en el mundo que pudiesse poner
differençia entre ellos: ni los
mesmos padres lo sabian diçernir;
mas en todo el tiempo se
engañaron mientra los criauan,
que por solas las amas los venian
a conocer; y ansi acordaron de
los llamar de vn nombre por ser
tan semejantes en el aspecto,
rostro, cuerpo, ayre y dispusiçion.
Llamaron al varon Julio y a la hija
Julieta. Fueron estremadamente
amados de los padres por ser tan
lindos y tan deseados y no tener
más; y ansi yendo ya creçiendo
en edad razonable, conoçiendo
ya ellos mesmos su similitud
vsauan para su pasatiempo de
donayres y graçiosos exerçiçios
por dar plazer a sus padres; y
ansi muchas vezes se mudaban
los vestidos tomando Julio el
habito de Julieta; y Julieta el de
Julio; y representandose ante sus
padres con vn donayre gracioso
reçebian[587] plazer como con
tanta gracia se sentian vurlados
por sus amados hijos; y ansi
Julieta en el habito que mas le
plazia se yua muchas vezes a
solazar, agora por la çiudad,
agora por el mar; tomando la
compañia que más le plazia; y vn
dia entre otros salio de su
aposento atauiada de los vestidos
de su hermano Julio a toda
gallardia y con su espada ceñida:
y passando por la sala tomó dos
escuderos que alli halló y lançose
por el mar en vn vergantin que
para su solaz estaua a la contina
aparejado, y suçedió que
esforçandose el viento a su pesar
fueron lleuados por el mar
adelante sin poder resistir; y como
a los que Dios quiere guardar
ningun peligro les daña, avnque
con gran temor y tristeza fueron
llegados vna pieza de la noche a
la costa de Ingalaterra y lançados
por un seguro puerto sin saber
donde estauan; y como sintieron
la bonança y el seguro del puerto
aunque no conoçian la tierra,
llegandose lo más que pudieron a
la ribera determinaron esperar alli
el dia; y ansi, como Julieta venia
triste y desgraçiada y desuelada
por causa de la desusada
tempestad se echó luego debajo
del tapete a dormir, y lo mesmo
hizieron por la plaza del vergantin
los escuderos, y fue tan grande y
de tanta grauedad su sueño que
siendo venida gran pieza del dia
avn no despertaron; y suçedió
aquella mañana salir la infanta
Melisa hija del rey de Ingalaterra
a caza con sus monteros por la
ribera del mar, y como mirando
acaso vio dentro del agua el
vergantin ricamente entoldado y
que no pareçia persona que
viniesse en él, mandó que
saltassen de su gente y viessen
quién venia alli, y luego fue
auisada por los que dentro
saltaron que en la plaza del
vergantin estauan dos escuderos
dormiendo, y que dentro en el
tapete estaua el mas lindo y
agraçiado mançebo de edad de
catorce años que en el mundo se
podia hallar. Y cobdiçiosa la
infanta de lo ver mandó echar la
puerta en tierra y apeandose de
su palafren saltó dentro del
vergantin, y como vio a Julieta
dormida[588] con su espada
çeñida juzgóla por varon y ansi
como la vio tan linda y tan
hermosa en tan conueniente edad
fue luego enamorada della[589], y
aguardando a que despertasse,
por no la enojar, estuuo por gran
pieza contemplando su belleza y
hermosura; y como despertó la
saludó con gran dulçura
preguntandola por su estado y
viaje. Julieta le dixo ser un
cauallero andante que la fortuna
del mar le auia echado alli, y que
se tenia por bien açertado y
venturoso si la pudiesse[590] en
algo servir. Melisa ofreçiendosele
mucho para su consuelo la rogó
saliesse a tierra combidandola a
la caça, diçiendo que por aquellas
partes la auia mucha y muy
buena de diuersos animales; y
ansi como reconoçio Julieta el
valor de la dama, y por verse en
su tierra, holgó de la complazer, y
ansi le fue dado vn muy hermoso
palafren, en el qual caualgando
Julieta, y Melisa en el suyo, se
metieron con su compañia por la
gran espesura de la montaña a
vuscar venados[591]; y como no
se podia sufrir la infanta Melisa
por la herida de su llaga que la
atormentaua sin poderla sufrir,
procuró quanto pudo alongarse
de su gente y monteros por
probar su ventura, y quando con
Julieta se vió sola entre vnos muy
cerrados matorrales la inportunó
se apeasen a beber y a solazar
junto a vna muy graçiosa fuente
que corria alli, y quando fueron
apeadas las dos graciosas damas
començó Melisa a hablar a Julieta
con gran piedad; y avnque con
mucha verguença y empacho le
fue descubriendo poco a poco su
herida, y teniendo los ojos
lançados en el suelo, sospirando
de lo intimo del coraçon,
yendosele vn color y
veniendosele[592] otro le muestra
perdersele la vida si no la socorre;
y ansi como ya tiene por el gran
fuego que la abrasa descubierta
la mayor parte de su dolor,
queriendose aprouechar de la
oportunidad se arriscó a tanto que
abraçando a Julieta la besó[593]
en la boca con mucho dulçor y
suauidad; yendo pues el huesped
muy puesto en el proçeso de su
historia estaua Beatriz toda
tresladada en él pareçiendole que
todo aquel cuento era profeçia de
lo que a ella le auia de suçeder; y
ansi como el huesped aqui llegó,
Beatriz con vn gran sospiro me
miró con ojos de piedad y el
huesped proçedio sin echarlo de
ver, diziendo: Pues como Julieta
por el suçeso tiene entendido que
Melisa la tiene por varon, y viendo
que a su passion no la puede dar
remedio, estando confusa y
pensosa[594] qué camino tomaria,
acordó ser muy mejor descubrirle
ser muger como ella, antes que
ser tomada por cauallero neçio y
cobarde para semejantes casos
de amor, y dixo la verdad; porque
çierto era cosa de hombre
apocado[595] reusar vna dama de
tanta gentileza que se ofreçe con
tanta dulçura y buena
oportunidad; y asi con vn gentil y
agraçiado modo la auisa ser
donzella como ella, contandola
toda su ventura y viaje, padres y
naturaleza. Pero como ya la saeta
de amor auia hecho en ella su
cruel effecto, estaua ya tan
enseñoreado en su coraçon el
fuego que la abrasaua que le vino
tarde el socorro y auiso que de su
naturaleza le dio Julieta, y por
esta causa no le pareçió menos
hermoso el rostro de su amada,
mas antes a más amarla se
ençiende, y entre si pensaua su
gran dolor por estar desesperada
de remedio, y ansi reuentando
toda en lagrimas vañada, por
consolar algo su pena dezia
palabras que mouian a Julieta a
gran lastima y piedad. Maldezia
su mal hado y ventura, pues
qualquiera otro amor santo o
deshonesto podria tener alguguna
esperança de buen fin, y este no
tiene sino sospiros y llorar con
inmensa fatiga. Dezia llorando: si
te pareçia, amor, que por estar yo
libre de tu saeta estaua muy
vfana, y querias con algun
martirio subjetarme a tu vandera y
señorio, bastara que fuera por la
comun manera de penar, que es
la dama por varon: porque
entonçes yo empleara mi coraçon
por te seruir. Pero hasme herido
de llaga muy contra natural, pues
nunca vna dama de otra se
enamoró: ni entre los animales ay
qué pueda esperar vna henbra de
otra en este caso de amor. Esto
parece, amor, que has hecho
porque en mi penar sea a todos
manifiesto tu imperio. Porque
avnque Semiramis se enamoró de
su hijo y Mirrha de su padre y
Pasiphe del toro, ninguno destos
amores es tan loco como el mio:
pues avn se sufriera si tuuiera
alguna esperança de effetuarse
mi deshonestidad y deseo. Pero
para mi locura ¿no habría Dedalo
que injeniasse dar algun remedio
contra lo que naturaleza tan
firmemente apartó? Con estas
lamentaçiones se aflige la gentil
dama mesando sus dorados
cabellos y amortiguando su bello
rostro, vuscando vengança de sí
mesma por auer enprendido
empresa sin esperança de algun
fin; y Julieta lo mejor que podia se
la consolaua auiendo gran piedad
de su cuyta y lagrimas que
afligian su belleza. Ya se llegaua
la noche y se ponia el sol, y como
las damas no ayan vsado dormir
en la montaña ruega Melisa a
Julieta se vaya con ella á su
çiudad que estaua çerca: lo qual
Julieta açetó por su consolaçion,
y ansi se fueron juntas a la çiudad
y entraron en el gran palaçio,
donde muchas damas y
caualleros la salieron a reçebir; y
considerando Melisa que ningun
prouecho reçibe en[596] tener a su
Julieta en habito de varon la vistio
de muy ricos briales suyos.
Porque gran yerro fuera no
reçibiendo prouecho auenturarse
al peligro de infamia que de alli se
pudiera seguir; y tanbien lo hizo,
porque como en el vestido de
varon la dañó quiere ver si en el
de muger se puede remediar y
curar su dolencia, y ansi
recogiendose anbas en su retrete
lo mas presto que pudo la vistio
muy ricos requamados y joyeles
con que ella se solia adornar, y
ansi la sacó a su padre a la gran
sala diziendo ser hija del duque
de Brauante; que la fortuna del
mar la auia traydo alli saliendose
por él a solazar; y ansi el Rey
encomendó mucho a su hija
Melisa la festejasse por la
consolar y luego se despacharon
mensajeros para auisar al duque
su padre; los duques fueron muy
consolados por auer[597] estado
en gran cuyta por la perdida de su
hija Julieta, y enbiaron a dezir al
Rey que en todo hiziesse a su
voluntad. Aquella noche fue
Julieta muy festejada de damas y
caualleros con vn solene serao,
donde Julieta dançó a contento
de Melisa[598], damas y
caualleros, que todos la juzgauan
por dama de gran gallardia,
hermosura y valor, y sobre todas
contentó a la infanta Melisa; y
siendo llegada la hora de la çena
fueron seruidos con gran
solenidad de manjar, musica y
aparato; la qual acabada, Melisa
combidó a Julieta a dormir; y
recogidas en su camara se
acostaron juntas en vna cama,
pero con gran diferencia en el
reposo de la noche. Porque
Julieta duerme y Melisa sospira
con el deseo que tiene de
satisfazer su apetito, y si acaso vn
momento la vençe el sueño es
breue y con turbadas
ymaginaciones, y luego sueña
que el çielo la ha conçedido que
Julieta sea buelta varon; y como
aconteçe a algun enfermo si de
vna gran calentura cobdiçioso de
agua se ha dormido con gran sed,
en aquel poquito de sueño se le
pareçen quantas fuentes en su
vida vido, ansi estando el spiritu
de Melisa deseoso pareçiale que
via lo que sueña; y ansi
despertando no se confia hasta
que tienta con la mano y ve ser
vanidad su sueño, y con esta
passion comiença la desdichada
a hazer votos de romeria a todas
las partes que ay[599] deuoçion
porque el çielo huuiesse della
piedad. Pero en vano se aflige,
que poco le aprouechan sus
promesas y oraçiones por
semejantes fines; y ansi pasó en
esta congojosa contienda algunos
dias hasta que Julieta la
importuna[600] que quiere boluer
para sus padres, prometiendola
que tomando dellos liçençia[601]
boluera a la visitar lo más breue
que ella pueda. Lo qual por no la
desgraçiar se lo conçedió la
infanta, avnque con gran dificultad
y pasion, confiando que Julieta
cunplirá la[602] palabra que le da
de boluer. Pues como fue
aparejado todo lo neçesario para
la partida la mesma Melisa le
entoldó el vergantin de sus
colores y deuisas lo mas
ricamente que pudo, y a ella[603]
dio muchas donas de joyas y
briales[604] de gran estima y valor;
y como Julieta se despidió del
Rey y Reina la aconpañó Melisa
hasta el mar. La qual como alli
fueron llegadas, llorando muy
amargamente la abraça y bessa
suplicandola con gran cuyta
buelua si la desea que viua, y
ansi Julieta haziendola nueuas
juras y promesas se lançó en el
vergantin; y leuantadas velas y
continuando sus remos se
cometio al mar, el qual en
prospero y breue tiempo se
passó. Quedaua Melisa a la orilla
del mar puestos los ojos y el alma
en las velas del nauio hasta que
de vista se le perdieron, y muy
triste y sospirando se boluio a su
palaçio. Como Julieta llegó a sus
riberas los padres la salieron a
reçebir con grande alegria como
si de muerta resuçitara,
haziendose muchas fiestas y
alegrias en toda su tierra. Muchas
vezes contaua a sus padres la
tenpestad y peligro en que en el
mar se vio conmouiendolos a
muchas lagrimas; y otras vezes
les encareçia el buen tratamiento
que de la infanta Melisa auia
reçebido: su grande hermosura,
graçia, donayre y gran valor,
dando a entender ser digna entre
todas las donzellas del mundo a
ser amada y seruida del cauallero
de más alteza y valor; y como
Julio la oya tantos loores de la
infanta ençendió su coraçon a
emprender el seruiçio de dama de
tan alta guisa. Dezia en su pecho:
¿en qué me podía yo mejor
emplear que estar en su
acatamiento todos los dias de mi
vida, avnque yo no merezca
colocarme en su coraçon? Pero a
lo menos gloriarme he auer
emprendido cosa que me haga
entre caualleros de valor afamar;
y ansi con esta intinçion muchas
vezes estando solo con su
hermana Julieta la importunaua le
contasse muy por estenso y
particular todo lo que auia
passado con Melisa; y por le
complazer le conto, cómo
dormiendo ella en el vergantin
aquella mañana que a Londres
llegó la salteó la infanta Melisa; y
cómo teniendola por varon por
lleuar el vestido y espada ceñida
se enamoró della, y tanto que
junto a vna[605] fuente la abraçó y
bessó dulçemente demandandola
sus amores, y cómo le fue
forçado descubrirle ser muger, por
lo qual no podia satisfazer a su
deseo, y cómo no se satisfizo
hasta que la tuuo consigo en su
cama muchas noches; y la pena y
lagrimas con que della se
despidio prometiendole con
muchas juras de la boluer a
visitar; y luego como su hermana
Julieta contó a Julio su historia
resuçitó en su coraçon vna viua y
çierta esperança de la gozar[606]
por esta via, teniendo por
inposible auerla por otra manera,
y ansi industriado por amor tomó
auiso, que con el vestido y joyas
de su hermana seria por el rostro
tomado por ella. En fin, sin mas
pensar auenturandose a qualquier
suçeso se determinó tentar donde
alcançaua su ventura, y ansi un
dia demandó a Julieta le diesse el
tapete que le dio Melisa para el
vergantin con la deuisa, porque
se queria salir a solazar; y vestido
de vn rico brial que Melisa dio a
Julieta, y cogidos los cabellos con
vn graçioso garbin, adornado su
rostro y cuello de muy
estimadas[607] joyas y perlas de
gran valor se lançó a manera de
solazar por el mar, y quando se
vio dentro en él, mandó a los que
gouernauan guiassen para
Londres, y en breue y con
prospero tiempo llegó al puerto, y
por las señas reconoçió[608] el
lugar donde su señora Melisa
cada dia venia por esperar a su
hermana Julieta; y como la
compañia de la infanta reconoçió
la deuisa y orla del tapete que
lleuaua el vergantin corrian a
Melisa por demandar las albriçias,
y como Melisa le vio, engañada
por el rostro, le juzgó por Julieta
reçibiendole con la posible
alegria: porque çierto se le
representó Julio lo que mas
amaua su corazon, y ansi luego le
aprieta entre sus braços, y mil
vezes le bessa en la boca con
mucha dulçura, nunca pensando
de se satisfazer. Agora pues,
podeis vosotros, señores, pensar
si fue Julio passado con la misma
saeta con que amor hirio a
Melisa, y pensad en quánta
beatitud estaua su anima quando
en este estado se vió. Metiole en
vna camara secreta donde
estando solos con bessos y
abraços muy dulçes se tornó de
nueuo á satisfazer, y luego le
haze traer vn vestido suyo muy
rico a marauilla que le auia
labrado para se le dar si viniesse
a visitarla, o enbiarsele, y vistiole
de nuevo cogiendole los cauellos
con una redeçilla de oro: y ansi
todo lo demas del vestido, y
atauio le dispuso en toda
gentileza y hermosura como mas
agraçiado la pareçiesse; y la boz
que en alguna manera le podia
differençiar trabajó Julio por
excusarla todo lo que pudo; y
luego le llevó a la gran sala,
donde estauan sus padres
con[609] muchas damas y
caualleros[610], los quales todos
las[611] reçibieron con gran
alegria, y todos le mirauan a Julio
contentos de su belleza,
pensando que fuesse muger, y
ansi con senblante amoroso le
hazian señas mostrandole desear
seruir y agradar. Pues siendo ya
passada alguna parte de la noche
en grandes fiestas y despues de
ser acabada la sunptuosa çena y
graçioso serao, llevó la infanta
Melisa consigo a Julio a dormir, y
ansi quedando solos en su
camara y despojados de todos
sus paños quedaron en vna cama
ambos sin compañia ni luz[612], y
como Julio se vió solo y en aquel
estado con su señora, y que de
su habla no tenia testigo le
començó ansi a dezir. No os
marauilleis, señora mia, si tan
presto bueluo a os visitar, avnque
bien creo que pensastes nunca
mas me ver. Si este dia que por
mi buenauentura os vi yo pensara
poder de vos gozar con plazer de
ambos a dos, yo me tuuiera por el
mas bienandante cauallero del
mundo residir para siempre en
vuestra presençia. Pero por sentir
en vos pena y no os poder
satisfazer ni bastar a os consolar
determiné de me partir de vos,
porque gran pena da al muy
sediento la fuente que tiene
delante si de ella por ninguna via
puede beuer; y podeis, señora,
ser muy çierta que no faltaua
dolor en mi coraçon; porque
menos podia yo estar sin vos vn
hora que vos sin mí, porque de la
mesma saeta nos hirio amor a
ambos a dos; y ansi procuré de
me partir de vos con deseo de
vuscar remedio que satisfiziesse
a nuestra llaga y contento. Por lo
qual, señora, vos sabreis que yo
tengo vn[613] abuela la muger
mas hadada y mas sabia que
nunca en el mundo jamas se vió,
que la tienen los honbres en
nuestra tierra por diosa, o ninfa;
tanto es su poder y saber. Haze
que el sol, estrellas, çielos y luna
la obedezcan como yo os
obedezco a vos. En conclusion,
en la tierra, ayre y mar haze lo
que solo Dios puede hazer. A esta
me fue con lagrimas que mouian
a gran compasion demandandola
piedad, porque çierto sino me
remediara façilmente pensara
morir; y ella comouida a lastima
de su Julieta dixome que
demandasse qualquiera don, y yo
contandola[614] la causa de mi
afliçion la demandé que me
conuertiesse varon por solo gozar
de vos y os complazer, y ella con
aquella liberalidad que a vna nieta
tan çercana a la muerte se deuia
tener me lleuó a un lago donde
ella se baña quando sus artes
quiere exerçitar, y alli
començando a inuocar se zapuzó
en el lago tres vezes y
ruçiandome el rostro con el agua
encantada me vi vuelta en varon,
y como tal me conoçi quedé muy
contento y muy marauillado que
criatura tuuiesse tan soberano
poder. Agora pues, señora mia,
pues por vuestro contento yo
impetré este don veysme aqui
subjeto a vuestro mandar: hazed
de mi lo que os pluguiere, pues yo
no vine aqui a otra cosa sino por
os seruir y complazer; y ansi
acabando Julio de la dezir esto
hizo que con su mano toque, y
vea y tiente; y como aconteçe a
alguno que deseando mucho vna
cosa, quanto mas la desea mas
desespera de la alcançar, y si
despues la halla dubda si la
posee, y mirandola y palpandola
avn no cree que la tiene, ansi
aconteçe a Melisa: que avnque
ve, toca y tienta lo que tanto
desea no lo cree hasta que lo
prueba; y ansi dezia: si este es
sueño haga Dios que nunca yo
despierte; y ansi se abraçaron
con bessos de gran dulçura y
amor, y gozandose en gran
suauidad con apazibles juegos
pasaron la noche hasta que
amaneçió. Esta su gloria estubo
secreta mas de vn mes, y como
entre poderosos no se sufre auer