Page 15 of Playing the Field

Brady grins like he’s just solved world hunger. “Anastasia comes highly recommended. Top of her class, multiple certifications in sports medicine, and her references couldn’t stop singing her praises. I’m telling you, Graham, she’s a game-changer for the Tigers.”

“Great,” I say, the word too clipped. “That’s… great.”

Anastasia watches me carefully, her hand still outstretched. Right—her hand. I shake it quickly, ignoring the jolt that shoots up my arm the second our skin touches. Her grip is firm, professional, as steady as I am absolutely not.

“Dr. Bellows,” I say, testing the words. They feel foreign. Wrong. But there’s no other way to address her now. “Betty will help you get settled. If there’s anything you need, let her know.”

“Thank you, Mr. Callahan,” she replies, her expression unreadable. She withdraws her hand, folding it neatly over the other in front of her.

Brady, ever the chatty one, fills the awkward silence. “I was just telling Anastasia about the team facilities. I thought she’d like to see the hydrotherapy pools before her first day. Maybe you could join us, Graham?”

“No.” The word comes out too fast, too sharp. Both Anastasia and Brady look at me. “I mean, I’ve got… other things to handle. You’ve got this, Brady.”

I take a step back toward the door, needing to escape the sudden claustrophobia pressing against my chest. “It was nice meeting you, Dr. Bellows. Welcome to the Tigers.”

Her green eyes linger on me for a beat longer than necessary, searching for something—maybe an acknowledgment, an apology, anything. But I’m a coward, and I give her nothing. Instead, I nod briskly and all but flee the room, the weight of Betty’s suspicious gaze following me out.

My chest feels like a drum being pounded by a novice—offbeat, too loud, and completely out of rhythm. Betty is waiting for me in the hallway, her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised with surgical precision.

“Well, that was something,” she says, her voice dry as a desert.

I ignore the comment and keep walking, my strides long and purposeful. Betty falls into step beside me, her short heels clicking against the polished floor. I can feel her eyes boring into the side of my head, and I know she’s not going to let this slide.

“Do I need to ask?” she starts, her tone laced with that signature mix of maternal concern and pure, undiluted nosiness. “Or are you going to save us both some time and tell me why you acted like you’d seen a ghost back there?”

“Nothing to tell,” I mutter, avoiding her gaze.

“Really?” Betty’s voice pitches upward, disbelieving. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like you’d swallowed your tongue the second you saw Dr. Bellows. And for a man who’s usually so polished, you stumbled through that introduction like a college kid at his first internship.”

I nailed my first post-grad internship, that’s neither here nor there. I concede Betty’s point because I did fall over my words in a way I typically manage to avoid.

Fuck.

“I’m fine,” I say through clenched teeth, rounding the corner to my office.

“Fine?” she echoes, not missing a beat. “Sure you are. That’s why you bolted out of there like the building was on fire.”

I stop abruptly and turn to face her. “Betty, drop it.”

Her expression softens, but the knowing glint in her eyes remains. She leans slightly forward, lowering her voice. “You don’t have to tell me everything, Graham, but if there’s something I need to know—something that could impact the team—it’s better if I’m in the loop.”

“It’s personal,” I admit grudgingly, rubbing the back of my neck. The tension there feels like it’s made of steel cords, pulling tighter with every second.

“Personal?” she repeats, arching an eyebrow. “You mean… her?”

I glare at her, but she doesn’t flinch. Damn it. Betty can already read me better than anyone, and right now, that’s the last thing I need.

“It’s complicated,” I say finally. It’s not much of an answer, but it’s all I’m willing to give. As if our age difference weren’t already a complication, now she works for me. My team.

Betty regards me for a moment, then nods slowly. “Fair enough. Just remember, complicated has a way of unraveling if you don’t handle it right.”

With that, she steps back, smoothing her blouse as if to signify the conversation is over. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a new doctor to settle in. You’ve got Novak’s mess to clean up, and I’d suggest focusing on that instead of whatever’s making you act like you’ve forgotten how to be a human being.”

I watch her walk away, her words lingering long after she disappears around the corner.

Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Back in my office, I close the door and sink into my chair. My head falls into my hands as I replay the meeting in my mind. The moment our eyes met, the way her smile faltered when she realized I wasn’t going to acknowledge what we shared. The way I panicked, like some teenage idiot seeing his ex for the first time after a bad breakup.