Trust the Push Read online

  Copyright © 2019 Kaylee Ryan

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book may not be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of Kaylee Ryan, except for the use of brief quotations in articles and or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, locations, businesses and plot are products of the author’s imagination and meant to be used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events throughout the story are purely coincidental. The author acknowledges trademark owners and trademarked status of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, sponsored or associated by or with the trademark owners.

  The following story contains sexual situations and strong language. It is intended for adult readers.

  Cover Design: Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative Covers

  Cover Photography: Sara Eirew

  Editing: Hot Tree Editing

  Formatting: Integrity Formatting

  Proofreading: Deaton Author Services

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Contact Kaylee Ryan

  Other Works by Kaylee Ryan

  Acknowledgments

  Clicking Save on the patient’s file, I glance at the clock. It’s after seven on Wednesday night. My last patient left over an hour ago, and my ass has been glued to this chair ever since, getting caught up on the charting that I didn’t have time to do today. Not that it matters. There’s not anyone waiting at home for me.

  I moved to Knoxville, Tennessee, the same day I graduated high school. I lived in a small rural town in Northern Tennessee with my father, well, if you can call him that. I like to refer to him as my sperm donor; that’s about the only thing he’s ever done for me. Yeah, he put a roof over my head and food on the table, but the roof leaked and the food was in short supply. I can’t ever remember a time when things were good at home. As the story goes, or so I’m told, my mom ran off before my first birthday. Turns out she was only with my dad because of me; she wanted to make it work but couldn’t. She turned to drugs, and well, you can take it from there.

  My father resented me for her leaving. Hated is a better term. He blamed me, but to hear my Uncle Bobby tell it, Mom would have left a hell of a lot sooner had it not been for me. Uncle Bobby was the one person in my life I could count on, always… no matter what. I spent more time with him than I did with Dad. When I was eleven, I begged my father to let me live with him. That was the first and last time he ever hit me. I never asked again. He never brought it up.

  That was my life.

  I planned to move in with my uncle as soon as I turned eighteen. Dad would stop getting assistance from the state, so he would no longer care what I did. At least that was my thought. Turns out I never got to test that theory. Two days before my eighteenth birthday, just two months before I graduated from high school, Uncle Bobby passed away from a massive heart attack.

  That put things in motion, plans changed, new ones were made, and here I am. Living in Knoxville on my own, working as a massage therapist. I love my job though it’s not what I wanted to do. I always wanted to be a physical therapist, but life happens and you alter plans. I’m happy with my career choice, and the life I’ve created for myself. What else could a girl ask for?

  After shutting down my computer, I pack up my bag to head home. Just as I’m walking out of my office door, I run into Jackie, my boss. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t hear you coming.”

  She waves me off. “I thought maybe you might still be here. Hoping is more like it.”

  “What? No lecture on how I work too hard? How I’m working my life away? You do know you’re my boss, right?” I tease. She’s the absolute best person to work for. She’s fair, understanding, and she acknowledges those of us who go above and beyond, even by making us block out time to go home early when she sees we’re burning the candle at both ends. Like I said, she’s amazing.

  “No,” she says with a laugh. “Not tonight. I did have something I wanted to talk to you about. Can we sit?”

  “Sure.” Turning around, I head back in my office. Instead of taking the chair behind my desk, I sit in one of the two chairs I have for visitors or patient consults. Jackie takes the seat next to me. “Is everything okay?”

  “Oh, yes. Sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s just been a long day, and then I just received a call from Jonah.”

  “It’s never good when the CEO calls you this late in the day. Patient complaint?” I guess.

  “No, actually a request. Did you know that Knoxville Health Partners sponsors a racing team?”

  “No, but then again, this organization is so large it’s hard to keep up with all the ventures. Not to mention, I’m not much of a racing fan. I mean, I guess I can’t say I’m not a fan. I’ve never watched it.”

  “My husband loves it. We’ve gone a few times. It’s dirt track racing. When we first started sponsoring the team, I volunteered to represent KHP and we got all-access passes. He was in heaven.”

  “I bet.” I smile at her. She always gets this sparkle in her eye when she talks about her husband or her kids. “So, what does KHP sponsoring a racing team have to do with me?”

  “Well, we got a call from the crew chief of the car we sponsor. I guess one of the crew members was trying to be Hercules and pulled a muscle in his back. He wanted to know if our sponsorship involved treatment for the crew.”

  “Okay, so put him on my schedule.” Seems easy enough to me.

  “Well, that’s the thing. They leave first thing in the morning for a race. So, they were hoping that someone could work on him tonight.”

  “I can stay,” I tell her. “What time will they be here? If I have time, I’ll run down to the cafeteria for a sandwich. I’m starving,” I say, just as my stomach decides to let me know it’s empty. This causes us to laugh.

  “That’s sweet of you, but Jonah kind of told them that we would go to them.”

  Sighing, I sit back in my chair. “Okay, when and where?” I’m just going home to an empty apartment. I’ll just consider this a part of my ‘get out more’ plan.

  “I can’t thank you enough for this, Aubree.”

  “It’s fine. I’m off tomorrow since I work Saturday, so I’ll be able to sleep in.”

  “Here’s the address.” She hands me the yellow Post–it note. “The guy you need to ask for is Kevin.”

  “Kevin. Got it. Anything else I should know?”

  “That’s really all the information that I have. Other than the fact that Jonah was adamant that we take care of whatever it is they need.”

  “We already sponsor them. I wonder what the big deal is?”

  “Public image is my presumption. This goes above and beyond sponsorship. My guess is that this driver is a big deal since we’re sponsoring him. I as
sume Jonah is hoping for a shout-out in victory lane.”

  “Isn’t that a NASCAR thing?”

  She laughs. “Honey, that’s a racing thing.”

  I nod. “I’ve got this. I’ll go meet this Kevin guy, work on whoever it is that needs me, and be gone. I don’t really need the details of the track.”

  “No, you really don’t. Thank you again, Aubree. I’ll be sure that you are well compensated for this.”

  “No problem.” I wave her off. “I’ll see you on Friday.” With a smile, she stands and leaves my office. After pulling a Knoxville Health Partners bag out of my bottom desk drawer, I head to one of my two treatment rooms to grab some supplies. I don’t really know what I’m up against, so I grab a few different lotions and oils, as well as a few massage aids. That’s the best I can do with the information that I have.

  Back in my office, I snag my bag and purse and lock up. My first stop is a drive-thru, for some food. I park in the grocery store parking lot next door while I scarf down my burger and fries. Plugging my phone into the charger, I pull up my GPS app and type in the address that Jackie gave me. “And we’re off,” I say aloud.

  Thirty minutes later, I’m pulling up to a mailbox with the right numbers, but I can’t see anything but a driveway and woods. Slowly, my car creeps along the gravel path lined with trees. I’m starting to worry, thinking maybe I should turn around, when the trees disappear and the most beautiful log cabin I’ve ever seen presents itself. Scanning the property, I see there is a massive building that sits off to the right. There is a huge trailer and lots of trucks. My guess is that is where I should be. I point my car toward the shop even though the house is calling to me. It’s gorgeous. Maybe I can ask to see it before I leave.

  Once I’ve pulled my Impala between two trucks, I turn off the ignition and reach for my phone. I scream when someone knocks on my window.

  “Sorry,” the guy says, holding his hands up in surrender. “Are you from KHP?”

  Rolling down the window, just enough so he can hear me better, I reply, “Yes.” I give him a shaky smile. “I’m Aubree.”

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice. Rick thinks he’s Hercules and pulled out his back. We leave for the track in the morning and we need him better.” He steps back so I can climb out of my car.

  “I’ll do my best. Sometimes these things take time and more than one session. It all depends on what he can handle as far as pain tolerance.” I offer him my hand. “Aubree Chance, nice to meet you…”

  “Kevin, Kevin Henderson. I’m the crew chief for Bishop Racing.”

  “So, where’s my patient?” My heart has finally slowed back to a normal rhythm. This guy seems nice; his eyes are kind. Not the best way to judge a stranger, but from my life experiences, kind eyes usually never steer you wrong.

  “He’s in the lounge.” He points to the large building. “Follow me. Do you have anything I need to carry for you?”

  “No, the facility doesn’t have a travel table, so we will just have to work with what we have.”

  “He’s desperate, so I’m sure he’ll do whatever you tell him to do.” He opens the door and motions for me to go in before him.

  Kevin referred to this as the lounge, and it looks just like that. There is a small kitchen area off to the side, and a small living area with a huge sectional couch and the largest television I’ve ever seen mounted on the wall. There are three doors on the far wall. The floors are a mix of gray, black, and white paint flecks. It’s much nicer than I would have imagined a race shop to be.

  “That door…” Kevin points to the first door on the left. “…is the bunks. That’s where we crash when we’re too exhausted to drive home after we get back from being on the road. The middle door leads to the shop, and the third door is the bathroom. It’s more like a locker room of sorts.”

  “Got it. So where do you think we should try this?”

  “Actually, I’m not sure. I guess on the couch? That would be more comfortable for you than the bunks.”

  “Yeah.” I laugh. “The couch it is. I can just have him switch directions if I can’t reach both sides.”

  “Great. He’s lying down. My wife, Ashley, told him to lie down with a heating pad. She also gave him… Advil, I think.” He pulls out his phone, hits a few buttons, and places it to his ear. “Hey, babe. I have Aubree here. She’s from KHP. What did you give Rick?” He waits for her to answer. “Okay, thanks. Yeah, that’s fine.” Again, he pauses. “Love you too.” He’s grinning when he hangs up. “So, yeah, Ashley gave him Advil.”

  “Thank you. Where’s my patient?” I ask again.

  “Right. I’ll be right back.” He strolls to the left-hand door and disappears behind it.

  I get to work, setting the items I brought with me out on the table. Looking down at the couch, I worry about the oils and lotions leaking through. I’ll have to ask Kevin for a blanket or sheet if they have one. The chaise lounge section should work for what we need. It might be a bit awkward, but possible. I didn’t even think to run home and get my portable table. Oh, well, nothing I can do about it now. I’ll remember this for next time. If there ever is a next time.

  “So, he’s asleep,” Kevin says from behind me.

  Turning to face him, I nod. “The Advil more than likely helped with the pain and relaxed him enough to sleep.”

  “Yeah, I tried waking him, but he’s dead to the world.”

  “Okay, we’ll let him sleep a little longer. I have my e-reader with me. I can just sit here and read for a while, and we can see if he wakes up. Oh, and do you have a sheet or a blanket or something we can put down on the couch? I don’t want the oils or lotions to soak through.”

  “This is a shop couch,” he counters.

  “Still, I’d hate for it to be stained. Do you have something that might work?”

  “Sure, we have extras in the bunk room. I’ll go get one and try to shake Rick again while I’m in there.” He winks and turns back to the bunk room.

  “Any luck?” I ask a few minutes later when I hear the door open.

  “Blanket, yes, Rick, no.” He hands me the extra blanket.

  “Okay, well thankfully, I’m off work tomorrow, so I’ll just hang out for a bit unless you think he’s okay and I should go?” I know the answer before he opens his mouth, but I wanted to throw that out there just in case. My bed is calling my name.

  “No, he’s still going to need to be worked on. You’re a massage therapist, right? That’s what we asked for. Ashley, my wife, thought that would help him the most.”

  “Yes, I’m a massage therapist.” Looking around the room, I point to the couch. “I’ll get everything set up over there and wait for a bit.”

  “Thank you, Aubree. We leave tomorrow early for the track, and we have a limited crew, so we need Rick in working order.”

  “I’ll do my best, but like I said, sometimes one session isn’t enough.”

  “We’ll take what we can get.”

  I chuckle at that. “All right then.”

  “My wife will be here in a little while. She’s bringing dinner. There will be plenty for you as well.”

  “Thank you, but I hit a drive-thru on my way here. I came straight from the office.”

  “And his dumb ass is asleep,” Kevin mumbles, but I can still hear him. “Right, I’ll give him another hour or so. Is that okay? Then I’ll dump cold water on him if I have to.”

  “Sure,” I concede. “I’ll just be over here on the couch.” I get to work setting the blanket on the chaise lounge and then settle in to read for a while. I could have thrown a fit and said I wouldn’t stay, but really, nothing is waiting for me at home, and Jackie acted as though this was important. I’d hate for her to catch the fallout from Jonah, the CEO of KHP, because I up and decided to be a diva. I would be reading at home too, so this works.

  “Who the hell are you?” a deep booming voice demands.

  I startle and open my eyes. Getting my bearings, I realize where I am an
d that I fell asleep reading. Blinking, I focus on the man standing before me, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at me. “I’m sorry?”

  “Who the hell are you?” he repeats.

  I sit up straighter to address him. “My name is Aubree, I—”

  “I don’t care. What are you doing here? Who let you in here?” He fires off questions. “This is not a fucking hangout for groupies,” he spits.

  “Hold up,” Kevin says, appearing at his side. “This is the massage therapist I told you about.”

  “Really? You did a bang-up job picking this one. What the hell is she doing sleeping on the job?”

  “I-I’m sorry.” I stand and come face-to-face with him. “I was waiting on Rick.” I look at Kevin for reassurance. “I was reading and must have fallen asleep.”

  “Relax, man,” Kevin says. He’s looking at this new guy, whoever he is, but the new guy still has his eyes locked on me. “Rick took some Advil and fell asleep. Aubree was nice enough to wait to let him sleep it off a little. Take it easy. She’s doing us a favor.”

  He turns to look at Kevin. “Where is he?”

  “Sleeping.”

  “Jesus. Does anyone work around here?” He turns on his heel and stomps toward the door of the bunk room. He’s not quiet when he storms into the room, flips on the light, and yells for Rick to “wake his ass up.” There are some muffled words before he turns and heads back toward us. Instead of stopping, he keeps walking past and right out the shop doors.

  “Sorry about that. He’s a little worked up,” Kevin says. “This race tomorrow. He’s leading the points, and we’ve had some issues with the car, and now Rick. He’s stressed.”

  “What’s his issue?” A tall guy with dark hair, who I assume is Rick, joins us.

  “No issue,” Kevin says. “Rick, this is Aubree. Aubree, this is Rick. She’s a massage therapist from KHP here to work on you.”

  “You think it will help?” he asks me.

  “Not really knowing much about your pain and condition, I’m not sure. Let’s get started and see what we can do.” I turn around and hit Play on my soothing playlist on my phone. It’s more for me than for him. I usually don’t play music in my treatment rooms. However, right now I need something to calm my nerves. I spend the next fifteen minutes or so talking with Rick about his injury and where the pain is, what makes it better or worse, and then have him lie on his belly on the chaise lounge. Time to get to work.