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“Look Dad I’m sorry that your offensive line is so weak that your damned kicker scores more points in a game than the quarterback does, but I have a career of my own to worry about.”

“I’m sure if I put in a call to your boss—-.”

“I AM my boss,” I interrupted, my voice raising. “Have you paid any attention at all these past ten years when I talked about owning my own damned clinic?”

Dad’s face turned ruddy with irritation, but when Mom’s hand landed on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze, he immediately calmed. For all his faults, my father truly loved my mother.

“Remember how we went to the grand opening of Violet’s clinic, dear?” she asked. “She gave a nice speech.”

Dad’s forehead scrunched. The man had encyclopedic recall of every player’s stats, including guys who hadn’t been on the field for twenty years, but damned if he could remember things like birthdays, anniversaries, or his daughter opening one of the most successful sports physical therapy clinics in the country.

After college I’d gotten a doctorate in Physical Therapy with advanced certificates in a myriad of specializations including specializations in Sports PT and orthopedics. My team and I worked with some of the top athletes in the world – including several Olympians—but none of that meant a thing to him.

“Violet, everyone says you’re the best in the business. They say you’re a miracle worker.”

I raised one eyebrow, surprised he’d heard that. I mean, it was true. I was definitely one of the top Sports Physical Therapists in the country and I possessed an almost intuitive knowledge of how to heal people. Supplemented by my extensive training, of course.

“Everyone?”

He shifted in his chair. “Well, the team doctor said that, and our head trainer. Oh, and the massage therapist. Basically, the entire physio team thinks you’re quite good.”

My father looked a little doubtful, like maybe he wasn’t sure that it was true.

I put my napkin down on the table, my appetite suddenly gone.

“Sorry Dad, but I’m very busy right now. Plus, you know how I feel about football players.”

“Football is in your blood Violet, you come from one of the oldest football families in the country.”

I had heard this lecture a time or hundred over the last forty years. My great-grandfather played in the NFL’s inaugural season in nineteen-twenty. My grandfather had played in the league in the late forties and early fifties, and my dad had been a player back in the eighties. All four of them had gone into coaching after retirement.

Despite my mother’s best efforts to make me a girlie girl, I’d grown up in football stadiums, following my father and grandfather around, knowing more about the game by the time I was eight than most adult men did.

I loved the game, but I didn’t love the players.

I’d seen behavior in athletes that made me lose my faith in men. And I’d dated several players, all of whom tried to use me to get closer to my father or grandfather. They’d been starstruck, wanting a job or a position on a team, or a piece of my family’s money, and they hadn’t been afraid to try to use me to get there.

Once upon a time there was a guy who I thought was different, a guy who I believed loved me for me, but then I found out the truth about him. He’d broken my heart but even worse, he’d shaken my confidence. There was no way I could ever forgive him for that.

I certainly wasn’t going to work on his damn hip injury, no matter how much my father tried to bully me into it. And no matter how much I also wanted the Cougars to finally win the Super Bowl this year. I might not like football players, but I still loved my team.

“Would you do it if it wasn’t Robbie?” my mother asked softly.

My gaze flew to hers, seeing the soft sympathy there. It had been nearly twenty years, but she remembered how shaken I’d been when Robbie and I broke up.

“No,” I said, although I could tell Mom was not convinced. “I really am very busy.”

“Why does it matter if it’s Robbie?” Dad asked.

I rolled my eyes like I was a teenaged girl. “I dated him for two years in college, Dad, don’t you remember?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Even Mom looked annoyed at that.

Then Dad grinned, and I realized that he was teasing me.

“Of course I remember. I thought for sure he was going to lock you down and then I’d have a son who played football like I always dreamed about.”