The Girl I Never Got Over

CHAPTER 8

“Come on, Rivera, this is the one that counts. Don’t mess it up now.”

Riley’s voice came from behind me—steady, clipped, all professional. But I knew her well enough to hear what was underneath it. Nerves. Hope. Maybe fear. For the past few weeks, she’d been tweaking this final routine down to the smallest angle like it was a damn thesis project. Every move calibrated to protect the tendon I tore to shreds.

Now it was time to test it.

I stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, sweat trickling past my temple. My leg trembled like it remembered the break better than I did.

“If you think this gets any harder,” I grunted, muscles screaming, “I swear I’m filing a lawsuit. Cruel and unusual punishment.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic. Do you want to walk again or not?”

“Play again,” I muttered, shifting my weight onto the injured side. “Though right now it feels like I’m scaling Everest barefoot.”

“Then maybe train for Everest next,” she shot back, stepping in closer, hands moving to steady my hips. Her fingers were firm. Focused. Clinical.

But even with all that armor on, the moment her skin brushed mine, something cracked open. I smelled her—clean sweat and lavender soap—and just like that, I wasn’t in the therapy room. I was in her apartment again. Back before everything went sideways. Back when her touch wasn’t careful, it was familiar.

“You okay back there?” I asked without turning.

“Focus, Rivera. Step through. Three… two… one…”

I moved.

The step wasn’t perfect, but it was solid. Controlled. A few months ago, that movement would’ve sent me crashing to the ground. Now, it held. Barely. But it held.

She pressed a palm against my lower back to catch a wobble, and I couldn’t help it—I looked over my shoulder.

“Careful,” I said, grinning. “You’re starting to get all soft on me.”

“Soft?” she scoffed, pulling back. “This is physical therapy, not flirting hour.”

“Oh, so we’ve left the flirting for after-hours?” I smirked.

She groaned. “Keep it up and I’m canceling your Coldplay privileges.”

I gasped. “Not my carefully curated playlist! What will I do without Fix You?”

“You don’t deserve Coldplay and recovery at the same time.”

I took another step—slower, deliberate—and let my voice drop just enough to catch her attention. “Maybe I’m just too much for you, Riley.”

She froze. Just for a second.

“You wish,” she snapped, but there was no heat behind it. Just… hesitation.

And for once, I didn’t fill the silence with a joke.

“You know,” I said quietly, “I only left because I didn’t want to hold you back. You had London. Your research. A future. I didn’t want you chained to someone stuck in rehab hell.”

She looked away, jaw tight. “And you didn’t think I should get a say in that?”

I swallowed hard. “I thought I was protecting you,” I said. “Clearly, I suck at it.”

“You do,” she whispered. “You really, really do.”

My hand brushed against hers. Barely a touch.

But it felt like a fuse being lit.

I wasn’t even sure if she’d pull away—or if I wanted her to—when the door slammed open behind us.

“Lucas!”

Daniela’s voice hit like a gunshot.

I pulled back immediately, Riley’s hand slipping away like it had never been there. I turned as Daniela, a strategist at the facility, rushed in, her face pale, her phone clutched like it was burning her fingers.

“There’s a situation,” she said, looking from Riley to me and back again. “It’s not just a rumor anymore. Someone leaked the photos from your first assessment.”

My stomach dropped.

She didn’t have to explain.

“The one where the report said your injury was likely career-ending,” she continued. “It’s everywhere. They’re saying you faked your recovery. That this whole comeback is just a PR stunt. The fans are losing it. Sponsors are preparing statements. The whole league is watching.”

I felt like I’d just been shoved off a cliff.

Riley went rigid beside me.

“Who leaked it?” I asked, my voice like steel.

Daniela’s eyes flicked toward Riley—just for a second—but it was enough to make my blood ice over.

“We don’t know yet,” she said. “But this is bad. Really bad.”