The Hardest Hit (14 page)

Trevor bought two dozen roses. The first, to have waiting for her when she walked through the door. The second, he picked the petals off the stems and sprinkled them over his bed. He'd decided on lasagna. Time-consuming to make, he knew, but he's stayed up late making the perfect sauce. In his opinion, tomato sauce always tasted better once it sat for a while and the flavors could develop.

Then he got up early and cleaned his house. He didn't only straighten things. He scrubbed the bathroom and threw out old food in the fridge. He decided against making dessert himself. Instead, he'd go to the Italian bakery across town and pick up their freshest cannolis. He had the wine, the perfect playlist complete with sexy songs from Jeremih, and the romantic classics from Marvin Gaye, plus the candles ready for lighting.

All he needed was her.

Anticipation stirred in his stomach. He could hardly eat from replaying the plan for the night over and over in his mind. They'd have dinner, make love, and for the first time in his life, he'd tell a woman he loved her. But it was more than that. He not only loved her, he saw a future with her. The two of them against the world. Soon, he'd be back in the ring. The hectic pace of the clinic would calm, and maybe they'd find time to plan a wedding.

He never had anyone care for him the way Chelsea did. And, now that he had her, he never wanted to lose her. He knew she felt the same way; of course she did. She'd passed him off to another doctor so her feelings and her career wouldn't complicate matters further.

If she had concerns about how her family would take the news that they were in love, well, he had a solution for that as well. Fuck them. Her father had done nothing for Chelsea other than try to mold her into someone she didn't want to become. She never talked about her mother or her siblings. The lack of closeness told him that she had the kind of family that connected only at holidays and social functions. He had no family to speak of, other than his gym family, and that was good enough for him.

Over the years one thing he'd learned was that sometimes people whom you chose to be part of your family were often more valuable than anything bound by genetics.

He walked into his bedroom and dug a shirt and shorts from his drawer. Slipping them into his gym bag, he planned a light workout for after physical therapy and before dinner. He'd probably lift some weights or spar with Domenic.

He'd leave the cardio for him and Chelsea. A smile bloomed across his face at the thought.

As he was about to leave for his appointment, his phone rang. Daniella's name flashed across the display. Before it rang again, he answered.

“Hi, Daniella, what's up?”

“Hi, Trevor.” She sounded cheery. “I was calling to get the address for your physical therapist.”

“Sure, no problem.” He drew out his wallet and searched for his appointment card. Knowing Daniella, she probably needed the name and address for documentation for the Las Vegas Boxing Commission. The commission always required health reports before a fight, and the sooner the paperwork was completed, the sooner he could face Dion Nash.

Trevor read the bottom of the card. “141 Cactus Grove Lane.”

“Perfect. I'll see you there around three?”

He felt his face pull down. “Uh, sure. You know, Chelsea's going to be there. I'm sure she can give you a full listing of the exercises and follow-up plan for the commission's paperwork. You don't have to waste an hour on me. I know you're busy.”

“Oh.” Daniella's voice sounded deflated. “I guess I called too soon.”

“Why? What happened?” His voice filled with concern.

“Chelsea hasn't called you yet?”

“No,” Panic gripped him. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. I just should've waited before I called you.” She gave a brief pause. “Chelsea isn't going to be able to make the appointment with you. She called and asked me to go instead.”

His chest hardened. “Why?”

“MediPharma's board of directors called an emergency meeting. They needed her for a vote and she couldn't miss it.”

Warmth spread through his body. His temperature spiked. “So, she called you instead of me.”

A rush of air blew over the phone. “Don't take it like that, Trevor. She probably couldn't get you.”

His hand closed in a tight ball. “My phone didn't ring.”

Another pause, longer this time. “I'm not sure what to say. Let's simply concentrate on the PT session. I'm sure Chelsea will call and explain as soon as she can.”

“See you soon.” He hung up with his trainer before he allowed his anger at Chelsea to bust through. Daniella was only trying to help him. He didn't need to go off on her when the source of his anger was his girlfriend.

She'd passed him off. Again. And the worst part was she failed to pick up the phone and give him a call. Instead, she called Daniella. Why? Did she not think he'd understand? Or was Daniella simply higher up on her speed dial?

Whatever was going on with them, he didn't like it. They needed to talk.

Soon.

Trevor bided his time through the physical therapy appointment. In hindsight, he should have paid more attention. He knew the exercises he was being taught would only improve his condition, but he couldn't focus. His mind had firmly planted itself around Chelsea. Luckily, his trainer had taken good notes.

When the appointment ended, he still hadn't heard from her. Her silence squeezed his stomach. What was she doing? Why hadn't she called him? And why was a meeting more important than going to PT with him? He carried his duffel bag in to the locker room and changed. What he needed was a good, long workout.

As he emerged, Daniella met him on the gym floor. “Trevor.” she flashed a hard stare. “I need to talk to you in my office, please.”

His shoulders slumped. From the sound of her voice he knew this wasn't good. He followed her into her office and she closed the door.

“You'd better sit for this one,” Daniella said.

Trevor rolled his eyes. “If you're here to tell me that Chelsea—”

“This has nothing to do with your girlfriend.”

Okay. His nerves started to calm. Boxing business he could handle. His tolerance for matters of the heart, however, was beginning to wane.

He sat in the chair across from Daniella's desk and waited for her to sit. When she did, her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“What is it?” he asked after a beat.

“I thought I knew how to tell you this, but now that you're here, the right words escape me.” She frowned.

A looming feeling swirled inside him. He read her facial expressions, her mood. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

“Just spit it out,” he told her.

“I just received an e-mail from the Nevada Boxing Commission. They received a report and recommendation from Doctor Foster.”

“Was it bad?”

Daniella exhaled. “Yes.”

He let the weight of her answer sink into him before he said, “What'd it say?”

“I don't understand a lot of the medical terms. We'll need Chelsea for that, but basically it says you aren't fit to fight.”

His face tightened. “Oh. Well, how much time are they going to delay us?”

She shook her head. “You didn't let me finish.” She paused, and then said, “You aren't cleared to fight ever again. She placed a permanent block on your fight status. It's not even pending a review. It's over, Trevor. I'm sorry.”

Stunned, he sat in his chair motionless. A mix of emotions swirled through his stomach. He didn't know if he wanted to cry or throw up. “What do you mean, it's over?”

Daniella shrugged. “Like I said, we can ask Chelsea about all of the medical terms, but it quite clearly states there was permanent damage to your brain after the parking lot attack.”

“But I feel fine,” he interjected.

“I'm sure you do. You look fine. But, with the way this report reads, your inside doesn't look half as good as your outside.”

He rose up from his seat. “This is insane.”

“I know. I don't know what to do. Do you want me to call Chelsea?” Tears flooded his trainer's eyes.

“No,” he fumed, “if anyone is going to talk to Chelsea, it's going to be me.”

***

After leaving Daniella's office, he took a quick peek outside. Chelsea's car was across the street, parked at the clinic. He flung the door open and proceeded to make his way through the parking lot. Reaching the clinic, he bypassed the waiting room and stopped one of the nurses in the hallway.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“In the lab.” The nurse pointed over her shoulder.

In a few quick strides, Trevor stood at the lab room door. Chelsea hovered over a piece of machinery, pushing buttons. He knocked on the door and she turned around.

“Hey, babe.” She smiled.

“I need to talk to you. In private.”

She removed her latex gloves. “Sure, how about room three.”

His eyes narrowed. “How about we go outside?”

She cocked her head to the side, as if finally picking up on his vibe. He was pissed.

He blew past the patients seated in the waiting room, and held the door for Chelsea as she exited. Then, he escorted her around the side of the building, where it was windowless and private.

“Babe, what's going on? Is this about my missing your appointment? I hope Daniella filled you in that—”

He lifted a hand. “Stop right there.”

“Wha—”

“This doctor you spoke so highly of, the one who was going to take such good care of me, Doctor Foster? Well, she just ruined my career.”

Her brows drew together in a solid blond line. “Huh?”

“Oh, she didn't tell you? She filed a report with the Nevada Boxing Commission permanently ending my career. It basically says I'm not fit to fight. And that what's up here”—he pointed to his head—“isn't getting any better.”

Her body started shaking. Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Trevor, oh no.”

He let out a breath. “But this doesn't come as a surprise to you, does it? You knew. Didn't you? You knew what was going on inside my head the second you passed me off to Dr. Douche. It was fine if the bad news came from him. I hated him anyway, right?”

“No.” She lifted a hand to cover her mouth. “That's not it at all.”

“Really? You're a great doctor, but you make a terrible actress, Chelsea.” Heat flooded his face. His head started to pound. “I know you. You're brilliant. One of the best doctors I've ever seen. You passed me off to someone who you knew would end my career. You knew my condition. You knew my prognosis, and you chose not tell me.”

Her skin paled. She stood silent and it spoke volumes.

He knew in that instant that he was right.

“It all makes sense now. You've been avoiding me, cancelling dates, pushing me off on Daniella. You must've known that any day now Dr. Foster was going to send a letter and I'd find out.”

“No, that's not true,” she cried.

She talked, but he didn't listen. “What did you think would happen? I'd somehow blame them and not you? They did their job. You, sweetheart, you lied to me.”

“But, I didn't I—”

He didn't let her explain. No more excuses. No more passing the buck. “We're through. Find yourself a new receptionist, boy toy, Friday-night fuck, or whatever I am to you. I'm done.”

With those words, she collapsed onto the pavement. And he turned around and made his way back to Stamina.

All by himself.

Chelsea glanced at her watch. Then she took a moment and looked around the empty clinic. She had a few minutes left before her busy day started. A frown tore the corners of her mouth downward as she imagined Trevor seated at the reception desk, welcoming patients the way he had in the weeks prior to leaving her crumpled and sobbing in the parking lot. Parts of that day were still a blur. Heartbreak did that kind of thing. It made her remember only the things she wanted to forget, like how wrong she'd been or how many stupid mistakes she'd made.

Before her staff arrived, she grabbed a broom and started sweeping. Cleaning always helped her think. Keeping her hands busy quieted her mind. But, for some reason, being in the clinic alone only caused her mind to race. Thoughts of Trevor zigzagged through her brain. She'd never forget how careless she'd been with his heart.

Deep down she knew through his childhood, until now, the man had no one in his life that had cared about him, not on the level she did. And, what did she do? He gave her his heart and she prioritized it like another item on her ever-growing list. Idiot. She'd never expect forgiveness for what she'd done, because she'd never forgive herself.

Her long day stretched out before her like a road map for routine. The clinic, then rounds, then a board meeting, her life had turned into a bad case of same old, same old, which she hated. Trevor always added the spice. He was the person who loved her, entertained her, captivated her, and made all of the other parts of her shitty day better. Without him she had nothing.

Part of her felt like her relationship with Trevor had been a bad case of karma coming around to bite her in the ass. She'd left Ben when he came on too strong, started planning, and developed expectations of her she couldn't fulfill. Then she'd turned around and forced those same expectations on Trevor, as if he was supposed to fit neatly into her schedule. That was about the only comparison she'd make between her relationships with Ben and Trevor. But, she was smart enough to know where she'd made her mistake.

Unlike a normal misstep, there were no do-overs with this one. She knew he'd never give her another chance, not after what she'd done. She had lied. Not outright, but through omission—which, in her book, was the same damn thing.

Call her a chickenshit. A yellowbelly. 'Fraidy cat. She deserved the names. None of which really summed up how she felt when she diagnosed Trevor's long-term prognosis. He'd never fight again. That she knew. However, she didn't want him to associate his receiving the most devastating news of his life with her. So she wimped out and slunk back in the shadows, leaving Dr. Foster to be the bad guy.

Ben dispensing the news had been her first plan. Trevor already hated him, so he seemed like the right guy to deliver the blow. When that didn't work out, she'd begged Dr. Foster to take Trevor as her patient, fully knowing what she'd find and report. Her breathing quickened, almost near hyperventilation, thinking about what she'd done. Despicable.

She knew in her heart that if she would have been the one to end his career he'd never forgive her, and with the way their relationship turned out, he'd never forgive her anyway. So where did that leave her?

***

Fogginess clouded her mind for the remainder of the day. There was truth in the phrase
going through the motions
because living on autopilot was how she was getting by. Patients came and went at the clinic, then at Sunrise. She wrote orders, and smiled politely as people droned on about how they were feeling.

Funny, once she became a doctor no one ever asked her how she felt, no one except for Trevor. Having
M.D.
after her name meant she had all the answers. She didn't. Especially when she dealt with matters of the heart.

That afternoon, she changed out of her scrubs into her best suit, and went to bide her time at a board meeting. She walked into the room and Dr. Delaney stuck out his hand.

“Good to see you, Chelsea. I see you're assimilating right into the group. We expected you to hold out longer with your disapproval of MediPharma's plans to buy Costcon, but you didn't. What changed your mind?”

She let out a long contemplative sigh. “I'm seeing things a little more clearly now.”

“Care to explain?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Sometimes, acting with the best intentions isn't the best after all. By law, MediPharma has to be upfront and forthright in their communications to buy Costcon. Everyone who works there will know what's coming, and they can plan accordingly,” she said. “Blindsiding isn't the way to induce change.”

“So, your concern to protect the little guy is gone?” he asked.

“Oh no. I'm still very concerned about the sick and the poor. That's why I opened my clinic. I plan to start spending more time there. So I may not be at the next meeting, or the one after that. No worries, however, I'll give my voting proxy to you.” She smiled politely.

“Understood.” He gave a decisive nod, as if that were all he wanted from her in the first place. “Everyone, I'd like you to take a seat and let's get started. We're all busy, and I have a tee time at four.”

Chelsea exhaled. “Sounds good to me.”