Page 56 of Forever Offsides

“To see Quinn.” He’s so deadpan. Like it should be obvious he’d seek out his ex-girlfriend again when he hasn’t seen or spoken to her in four years.

I drag a hand across my forehead. “Jesus, Russel. Why the hell are you doing that? I thought the plan was for you to stay away from her.”

“The plan is for me to clean up my off-field persona. Besides, she should hear that I’m moving back and joining the team from me. I tried calling her, but because she’s stubborn as hell, she didn’t pick up. I owe it to her in person this time. I gotta go. She’s coming my way. I’ll call you when I’m at the airport tomorrow.”

He disconnects the call, and I drop my phone on the counter when what I really want to do is chuck it until it shatters against the wall. I grip the edge of the stone and lean against my counter, trying to get rid of the green-eyed monster strangling me with pointless anger. Goddammit!

17

QUINN

Taylor Swift’s “The Life of a Showgirl” blasts through the OR, and all of us are dancing to it. Why? Well, this was one hell of a tib-fib repair on a teen who had a nasty fall off her skateboard. She told me that Taylor Swift is her favorite artist. Call me crazy, but I believe the brain works in mysterious ways, and I try to play the patient’s favorite music while they’re under the knife.

That said, depending on what it is, that may be limited to one song. Taylor was an easy choice, and we’ve been having fun with her for the last three hours. The surgery is successful, but she’ll need at least one more. I’m hopeful that with some good physical therapy, she’ll make a full recovery and walk without a limp despite having more screws than she’ll ever want to think about drilled into her bones.

The Saturdays that I work are typically my trauma days since I cover the ER—life of a resident, not quite as glamorous as a showgirl’s. I don’t mind it, though. I love sports and sports injuries, but there is something about trauma that gets your heart going and challenges you in ways planned surgeries can’t.

“Who wants to close?” I ask since I have three junior residents and two interns in here. What can I say? It was a slow day for surgeries, so the gang’s all here.

“Oh! Me!” Valerie raises her hand like she’s in kindergarten.

“You got it last time. It’s my turn.” Chuck practically knocks Valerie out of the way to get closer to the table. Then there’s Carol. Quiet and timid, she needs to step up.

“Carol, you’re up, and I want a perfect, precise line with no staples.”

Honestly, staples would be fine, but it’s good practice for surgeons to learn how to suture like it’s their mother on the table. At least that’s what my mother taught me.

“Ugh. Jealous!” Valerie exclaims. “But I guess that means we can ask you about him now.”

Great. I assumed some people would ask about the press conference since my name was in it and a little online, but so far, I have managed to escape it today.

“Yes,” Sandra, my circulating nurse, jumps in. “We all want to know. Especially since he’s outside.”

That last part catches me. “What? Who?”

“Russel Jones,” Valerie practically screeches. “He bought donuts for the floor.”

I choke. “Are we cops now? Donuts? That’s sad. He should have brought gourmet pastries. Did he at least bring coffee?”

I’m trying to keep my tone light, but what the fuck is he doing here?

“He brought coffee for everyone and a separate one for you.”

Fabulous. Motherfucker clearly wants his balls severed this time instead of smashed.

“Alexa,” I call out. “Play ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.’”

Everyone laughs, but I don’t. I’m fucking pissed. He has no right to show up at my work. Not at the stadium, but sure as hell not here.

“But seriously, you dated him?” That’s Chuck, but I can feel the eyes of everyone in the room. Thankfully, Carol is doing her job and keeping her mouth shut and her focus on the patient.

“Are you stupid enough not to know who my family is?” I clip back.

He shifts his weight, but most everyone in here is used to my bark. “I just didn’t know you dated players, is all. Hell, I didn’t know you dated anyone.”

I don’t. Or, I didn’t, thanks to Russel. Then I met his dad.

I keep my gaze on the field over Carol’s shoulder. “It was back when I was a medical student.”