“I think you just ruined me for any other man.”
Ryan smiled, pulling off his shirt and throwing it on to the floor. “I think that was the plan.”
CHAPTER17
Ryan
I wasn’t usedto missing someone.
It wasn’t in my repertoire.
When Lotte and I finished, there had been so much else going on – the business, training, being a professional footballer, her moving to the States. I never noticed her not being there, even though I’d seen her every day.
I had never seen Otter every day. I spoke to her about noon, English time, most days, taking a brief moment I could catch with her that we had between training sessions where we’d refuel for whatever we were doing that afternoon. She would’ve just woken up, morning over there. I’d be having lunch when she was eating breakfast, usually fruit or something keto, because the next role was looming soon and she needed to look a certain way.
Part of me hated that, that a role she played determined how she needed to look, but so did the part I played everyday. I had a strict diet, nothing to do with how I looked, but everything about my performance on the pitch. The tests that were done, the training, the expectations from the analysis would make what Otter did miniscule. Yet we were both paid to look the way we did.
“I’ve got you booked in with Amber, Ryan.” Coach had called me to one side. “You’re overcompensating on your left side – what’ve you done to your leg?”
I leaned down, stretching out my right hamstring. It felt pretty stiff, but the game on Sunday had been a physical one and I’d taken a tackle that had grounded me. I’d played on afterwards, and with hindsight, that was probably a bad call.
“Overstretched. When’s Amber expecting me?”
Coach looked annoyed. “Now. Make sure you do as she says. I don’t want you out with a worse injury just because you don’t follow what you’re told.”
I nodded. “Will do. I’m not Matty Culver.” Matty also played up front and was currently out with a strained ligament for three or four games because he’d pretended that nothing was the matter.
Amber was waiting for me, sitting down on her stool and looking at her phone. She looked puzzled, shaking her head when she saw me and putting her phone on one of the nearby shelves where various lotions and ointments were kept.
“I will never understand men.”
“I wouldn’t even bother trying to.” I dropped my holdall on the floor away from her table. We were in one of the smaller treatment rooms today, which told me that coach was more concerned than he’d let on. This wasn’t just a sports massage appointment. “We’re all stupid, most of the time.”
She nodded, rolling up her sleeves. “Walk up and down for me.”
I did as I was told, having the sense not to ask why or complain. I wasn’t worried by coach’s observation; my hamstring did feel a bit tighter than normal, but it would get better quickly. I also knew we had a series of games coming up against top of the table opposition, where each match was basically a six pointer. With Matty being out for the next couple of weeks, I had more responsibility up front.
She put me through a few more movements, watching my gait, making me lift my leg in various ways while she observed.
“You’ve picked up a strain. Table, face down.”
Again, I did as I was told. “Why isn’t it feeling too bad?”
“High pain threshold?” I felt her hands on the back of my leg. “Not sure, but I suspect you twisted something small in that tackle on Sunday. You’re overusing your left leg, which will probably mean you start to feel more discomfort there. Ice, stretches and a couple of rest days will have you back to normal. If coach wasn’t such a dictator, he’d have pulled you off training, but no. He knows best.”
So Amber was in one of those moods. Best to tread carefully and say nothing, just let her do her job.
“Was Nate at training?”
Her question came out of nowhere.
“He was. Think he’s hit the weights.” We were meant to be getting pizza at his tonight. The girls’ nanny had the night off, and I hadn’t seen them for ages, so I’d promised I’d go round.
“He missed his session with me this morning.” Amber dug into my hamstring and I felt a tweak. “Do you think he’s moving on after what happened with Chan?”
I frowned. This area of conversation was unusual from Amber. She usually steered well clear of anything to do with the personal lives of players.
“I think so. I think he’s accepted what’s happened.” I tensed my leg as she got a little heavier with her hands.
