Running Home to You (The Running Series) (33 page)

A
gain, we arrive at the doctor’s office exactly on time, well before any other patients have arrived.  The chimes on the door ring the most delightful sounds as we step into the office.  Rather than being greeted by his friendly secretary, the room is completely empty.  Evan and I look at one another, unsure what to do.  Is it possible we got our days or times mixed up?

Our questions are soon answered when Dr. Falkowski steps out to welcome us.  “Evan, Juliette, it’s a pleasure to see you both again.  Please, sit down,” he asks, pointing to chairs here in the reception area.  “Juliette, I’m going to ask you to sit here while I discuss Evan’s test results with him privately.  Can I get you anything while you wait?” he asks.

I’m momentarily speechless.  I thought we would get the results together.  Anxiety quickly dissolves into pure fright.  Suppose something is wrong?  What if they found something?  “No, thank you.  I’ll be fine.”

Evan bends down to kiss me, “I’ll be right back.  Please don’t worry.”  He disappears behind the door leaving me all alone.  While I wait, I take out my iPhone and search the Internet for pictures from last night’s ESPYs.  Each time I find a picture I like, I save it to the cloud.  When I find a really nice one of Evan and Callie together, I forward it to her.  Five minutes turns to ten, then to fifteen.  What could they be possibly discussing?  My mind is racing with the possibilities.  Did they find something of concern in his blood work?  Drugs?  Hormone imbalance?  Disease?  Blood disorder?  Perhaps the tests came up inconclusive and they are discussing psychological explanations.

Twenty agonizing minutes later and the door finally opens.  It’s Dr. Falkowski.  “Juliette?  Evan would like to speak to you.  Please join us.”

I step in and Evan is sitting in a chair, nearly bent in half with his head in his hands.  I rub my hand on his knee to let him know I’m here.  He takes my hand and squeezes, but says nothing.

“Evan, would you like me to tell Juliette what we’ve learned?” 

Still not looking up, he nods his agreement.

“Okay.  Let’s start with the positive, shall we?  His blood count, glucose, and iron tests were all well within the normal range.  The kidney results were borderline high, but not significant enough for concern,” he explains.

“Well, that sounds good, right?” I ask.

“Yes, but unfortunately, there are some results that are cause for concern.  Evan tested positive for steroids and his liver enzymes were high as well, which suggests he’s been on steroids for at least a month.  The amount of artificial hormones detected were higher than normal, but not at a level that cause me to worry about his overall health at this time.”  Holy crap.  Long-term steroid use.  Performance enhancing drugs.  That’s a career ending combination.

“Evan, is it true?” I ask.

When he looks up at me, his eyes are swollen and the look of complete despair on his face frightens me.  “Juliette, Dr. Falkowski and I went around and around.  I have never, ever, knowingly taken steroids.  Six weeks ago my voluntary drug test came up clean, remember?  How could this happen?  If the league finds out, I’m fucked.  Completely, totally, thoroughly fucked.”

“Does that mean someone is giving you drugs without your knowledge or consent?  How’s that even possible?” I ask.

“Dr. Falkowski and I have come up with a few possible explanations,” he tells me.  “The team doctor has been giving me cortisone shots twice a week.  There’s a liquid form of steroids he could have been injecting.  There’s also the athletic trainer who has been giving me vitamin and mineral supplements after each training session.  He could have been slipping me steroids in tablet form or the supplements themselves might unknowingly contain banned substances.” 

“Okay, so that means no more injections and no more supplements, right.”

“Damn straight,” Evan quickly asserts.

“And where does that leave us?”  Evan and I both turn to Dr. Falkowski for his help in understanding what effect this could be having on our relationship.

“Well, here’s what we know.  Studies have shown that high steroid doses produce greater feelings of irritability and aggression.  The prevalence of violence and aggression seems to be low, but it’s not unheard of,” Dr. Falkowski explains.  “I’d be inclined to attribute Evan’s previous mood swings to steroid use, especially given the fact that he hasn’t displayed any aggressive behavior during the past several weeks while he’s been on a break from practice with the team.”

“But it’s not just the aggression that worries me.  It’s the anxiety and paranoia, too,” I explain.  “Remember that weekend in Atlantic City,” I remind Evan.  “You nearly cried when we read those blog posts that night.”

“Ah, interesting,” Dr. Falkowski ponders.  “That’s more evidence that helps support my theory.  You see, while taking steroids, your body slows down production of the body’s natural hormone of testosterone.  Decreased testosterone in men can result in heightened anxiety and angst.  It’s possible you may have gone for a period of time without receiving the artificial hormones, leaving your levels low and your emotions unstable.”

“So, why don’t I feel that way now?” Evan asks.

“Hard to say, really.  We don’t know exactly when you started ingesting the steroids, and we also don’t know when you stopped taking them.  If you want more precise information, I could order additional tests,” Dr. Falkowski offers.

“I’m more interested in moving forward, not looking back,” Evan responds.  Evan leans over and kisses me sweetly.  That’s it.  I have the explanation I was looking for, but it’s not the one I was expecting. 

“I understand.  Now that you know how your body reacts to artificial steroids, it’s more important than ever to be vigilant.”  Dr. Falkowski hands Evan the paperwork that lists all the test results.  “These are yours to do with as you see fit,” he suggests.  “I will not be keeping any copies.”

Evan looks down at his watch, “We’ve been here for well over an hour.  Are there going to be patients waiting out there when we leave?”

“No, I cleared my schedule for the entire morning.  I knew we had a lot to discuss and I also wanted to be sure your privacy was guarded.  I gave Michelle the morning off, just in case she recognized you, Evan.  She’ll be off again next Friday if you want to come back at this time for us to check on your blood levels.  You can have Juliette call to make the appointment.”  Evan’s got a very non-committal look on his face.  “I’ll leave the morning open if you change your mind.”

The doctor’s door closes just as we reach the car.  Evan sweeps me up off my feet and stamps my lips with his, reclaiming me as his own.  His tongue probes my mouth savagely, his hunger for me nearly as great as mine for him.  Without breaking our bond, he stumbles with me a few steps and places my ass gently on the hood of my car.  I wrap my legs around his legs and pull him close.  My heartbeat quickens as a familiar throb returns. “Want to go violate me in the back of a car?” I ask.

“There are a great number of things I would like to do to you, right now, my love.  Squeezing into the back of that old clunker of yours isn’t anywhere on my list.  Did you get the answers you need, Juliette?”  He takes my chin in his hand and looks down at me with smoldering eyes.  “Can we move on now?”

“Evan, it really didn’t matter what the doctor had to say, you own me, body and soul.  Take me home, Evan.  I want to go home – our home.”

“I like the sound of that,” he whispers in my ear, pausing to nibble and tease my earlobe, sending shivers racing down my spine.  I slip my hands into the back pocket of his jeans and hold him close. 

Evan slowly backs away and adjusts his jeans as he takes a deep cleansing breath.  “Come on, let’s go before I ravage you right here and now.  Pretty soon, Dr. Falkowski’s going to come out here and start charging admission.”

I look around and suddenly realize that we’re in the middle of a neighborhood making out on the hood of a car like a couple of teenagers.  We quickly get into the car, Evan throws it into drive, and off we go.  I hold his hand as he drives us home. 

“Evan, are you going to tell anyone about this?  You know, about the test results?” I ask.

“No.  I can’t chance it.  No one will ever know except you.”  He squeezes my hand, affirming what I already know.  We are a team.

“What about Adam?” I ask.

“What about him?”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Do you think I should?”

“Absolutely not,” I tell him in no uncertain terms.  “We don’t know what anyone’s involvement is in this entire situation.  Someone with the team knows something, and we’re going to get to the bottom of it.  I guarantee you that.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” he asks.

“Hell, no.  Evan, this nearly tore us apart.  We’re going to find out who did this to you, to us, and make damn sure it never happens again.”

“Yes, dear.”  Evan’s grin tells me all I need to know.

Rather than bring us to the beach house, he pulls up in front of Auggie’s home.  “Are we picking up your car?” I ask, anxious to finish what we started.

“No, baby.  You’re going to work.  I have an appointment with our accountant.  Make up some excuse why you can’t stay until closing.  Be home by eight.  I’ll have dinner ready.” 

Evan walks me to the door and kisses me before returning to his car.  I watch as he pulls out of the driveway, but stops in front of the house.  He rolls down the window and calls back to me, “Drink plenty of fluids today, baby.  You’re going to need it.”

W
hen I arrive at work, I see that we’re about half full, and it’s only noon.  Not bad for a Wednesday lunch.  My first order of business is to speak with Marcus about Ryker.  At first glance, I don’t see him anywhere, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.  He could be in the back with Reese.  I grab Marcus and bring him into the office.

“Did you do it?” I ask abruptly.  There’s no need to pussyfoot around with Marcus.

“I did.  It’s done.  I called him and asked him to meet me here before most of the staff arrived.  He knew exactly why.  I told him it was time for him to move on and he agreed.”

“Just like that?  Do you think we’ve heard the last from him?”

“I certainly hope so,” Marcus answers.

“Do you think Reese is ready to do this on her own?” I ask.

“Definitely.  Ryker’s been helping me a lot and leaving her to deal with the line on her own more and more.  She’s got this, boss.  Don’t worry.  He taught me a few things, too.”

I walk into the kitchen to check on things, where I find Reese and Emmy deep in conversation.  They seem to be arguing about cars.  “I’m telling you,” Reese says, “you should get a Kia Optima.  It looks like a high end car, but doesn’t cost as much.”

“I don’t know,” Emmy argues, “I really love my Honda Civic.  Maybe I’ll get an Accord this time.”

“Are you car shopping, Emmy?” I ask.

“Yup.  My lease is almost up and it’s time for me to get a new car.  What do you think, Jette?”

“I’m totally with Reese on this one.  The new Optimas look sharp. The white ones with the black roof are gorgeous,” I tell her.  “But the Hondas are nice, too.”

I’m really jealous of Emmy.  If the restaurant keeps doing well like this, maybe I’ll be able to get a new car, too.  We’ve only been open for about seven or eight weeks.  It’s too soon to start thinking about spending all of my profits on something I don’t really need when my car, as ugly as it may be, still works perfectly fine.

“Hey girls, did Marcus tell you about Ryker?” I ask. 

“Yeah, he did,” they both admit. 

“Personally, I think he was just trying to help,” Emmy says.  “We asked him to get involved in our personal business, and now everybody freaks out when he says the wrong thing or does the wrong thing.  I don’t think it’s fair.”  She points to her brand new tattoo, “He designed this for me and he didn’t even get to see it.  It bites, big time.”

“Emmy, you think everything is simple, but it’s not.  Jette did the right thing.  You didn’t hear the crap he was saying about Evan in the kitchen with me.  He thinks Evan is a piece of shit.  After he saw Evan lose it that night, Ryker decided it’s now his job to protect Jette.  It’s like she became his pet project or something,” Reese explains to Emmy as I stand there listening.

“Sorry, but we put him in the middle and now everyone’s upset that he picked sides.  That’s all I’m saying,” Emmy insists.

“I don’t want to know what was said in the kitchen, so please don’t tell me.  But let me just tell you this, Emmy.  Ryker crossed the line.  Period.  End of discussion.  He disrespected Evan, one of the owners of this restaurant.  And if that’s not bad enough, I’m his boss, too, and he can’t just go following me around like that, hiding in the shadows.  I’m not anyone’s pet project or mission.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Emmy eventually admits.  “Jette, can I use the phone in your office?  I need to make a private call.  It will only take a minute, I promise.”

“Sure, Em – I hope nothing’s wrong,” I tell her.

“Nah, I just have to make an appointment to get my teeth cleaned.”

“Wait, before you go – do you guys mind if I leave early?  Evan and I have a date tonight.”