Chapter 152: Therapy

NOAH

"Now, was that so bad?" Juliet beamed at me as we stood on my front porch. She was allowing me to unlock the door, even though I knew damn well she still had the key Zeke had given her. Fucking Zeke. Talk about betrayal. What the hell had he been thinking?

"It was brutal," I answered her flatly. "I'm in agony. That therapist is a sadist. She gets a kick out of making me hurt."

"That's bullshit, and you know it. How long have you been playing football, Noah?" She posed the question just as I opened the door, and though I wanted to slam it in her pretty, heart-shaped face, I had enough of the manners my mother had drilled into me to refrain.

"A long time." I tossed my keys into a bowl on the front table. "Since I was a kid. Six years old."

"Uh-huh. I thought so. And has it been all sunshine and roses, buddy? Or was there a lot of pain along the way? Practice, conditioning. Running sprints. Building muscles and endurance. Not to mention hits on the field."