Page 15 of Between the Ropes

“I know,” I finally grumble, the words sour in my mouth. “I’ll deal with it.”

“You’ll deal with it now,” Stephen corrects, his eyes locking on mine. “No more brushing it off. You need to loosen up before this turns into something worse. I want you getting massages a few times a week along with your physical therapy. And now, you’re going to see Natalie.”

The moment her name slips from his mouth, I feel something twist in my gut. Natalie. The last person I want touching me right now. Not after the way I’ve been avoiding her, the way I stormed out of the room when I saw her working on Kyle. I know I’ve been acting like a dick, but the idea of being around her just... messes with my head. I don’t have time for all this. I have too much going on to allow my head to get all messed up. I need to stay focused.

I try to protest, but Stephen’s already dragging me across the hall. The smell of lavender and mint hits me as soon as we walk in. It’s calming, relaxing even—but my insides are anything but. Natalie’s sitting at her desk, her fingers tapping away at her laptop. The moment she sees us, her eyes widen, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. Or maybe curiosity. Either way, it’s clear she wasn’t expecting me.

“Hey, Natalie,” Stephen says as he gestures to me. “Ryan’s back has been acting up. He’s inflamed, and I need you to work on him. Get him loosened up, focus on the lower back. Two, maybe three times a week should keep him in good shape. If he cancels any appointments with you, you let me know asap.”

I see the way her eyes dart between me and Stephen, like she’s trying to gauge the situation. I keep my face hard, avoiding eye contact, not in the mood for small talk. Stephen goes over my history, explaining the problem, and all the while I’m standing there, tense and irritated, as Natalie types notes about me into her computer. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want her hands on me. Not because I don’t think she’s good at what she does, but because I know the effect she has on me. And I need to stay away.

“Got it,” Natalie says, her voice soft but professional.

There’s something in the way she looks at me—shy, almost. Or maybe that’s just my imagination. Either way, it doesn't matter. I keep my responses short, sharp. I don’t want to drag this out any longer than needed.

“Take off your shirt and lie down on the table,” she says, her voice calm but firm.

I hesitate for a moment, something tight in my chest, but then I do as she says with a groan. I pull off my shirt, feeling her eyes on me, but I don’t look at her. Instead, I lie down on the table, my face pressed into the cushion, trying to push the thoughts from my mind.

But the moment her hands touch my back, I feel something crack open inside me. Her fingers are firm but gentle, working their way across the knots in my muscles, and fuck—how am I going to survive this? How am I going to let her touch me without losing my grip, without wanting to touch her back?

I grit my teeth, shoving the thoughts down, burying them deep where they can’t get to me. My mind drifts to the day I swore off all of this—relationships, feelings. The day I told myself I’d never let another woman into my life again.

Natalie's hands glide down my spine, slow and precise, the warmth of her touch sinking into my muscles. I try to focus on the pressure, on the release—but my body’s fighting me. No matter how good it feels, I can’t relax. Not fully.

Because every time she touches me, every time her voice softens, or her fingers linger a little too long… something inside me pulls back.

I close my eyes, but instead of finding peace, I find the past.

Her—my ex-fiancée—standing at the edge of the bed in nothing but a sheet, trying to lie her way out of what I’d just seen with my own eyes. My best friend scrambling to pull on his pants, muttering excuses, as if there was any version of that scene that could make it okay.

I remember the heat in my veins. Not heartbreak—rage. Pure, unfiltered rage. The kind that shakes your entire foundation.

I walked out and never looked back.

And the next day? I hit the gym like a man possessed. I trained harder than I ever had. I tore muscle. I bled. I didn’t care.

I told myself I was done letting people close. No one was ever going to make me feel that small again. From that point on, I wasn’t fighting for anyone but myself.

I built this career from that broken place. I turned betrayal into drive, pain into purpose. I buried every soft part of me, every piece of my heart that had once been wide open.

And now…

Now Natalie’s hands are on me, and that guarded part of me is cracking open again.

I feel it in the way my body leans into her touch. In the way my heart reacts to the quiet hum of her breath.

I know what this is becoming. And it scares the hell out of me.

Because if I let her in…

She could break me too.

And I don’t know if I’d survive it this time.

Her voice cuts through my thoughts, soft and soothing. “Relax,” she says, her fingers kneading a tight spot near my spine. “You’re holding too much tension. Take a breath and just relax.”

I exhale, trying to do what she says, but it’s easier said than done. The way her hands move, the way her touch sends shivers down my skin... This right here is trouble. I know it. I can feel it.

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