Page 5 of Hard Ruck

He snorted, then swore again. “Fuck. This is bullshit.” He seemed to be more pissed off at himself for snorting than he was at the discomfort. No doubt he got used to the pain of injuries a long time ago.

I gestured for him to sit in a chair behind the x-ray machine and snapped on some gloves. When he lowered the front of his jersey, I wiped the blood away from his nose.

While I moved around, he followed me with his light brown eyes. Almost gold, they were locked on my every movement.

“So you’re Chelsea,” he said.

“The one and only,” I said lightly. I gave him an ice pack to press to his nose and walked over to the side of the infirmary to get a couple of painkillers and a cup of water.

More than my brother would have given anyone he was working on.

“You’re a doctor,” he stated. He threw back the pills and washed them down with water before handing back the cup.

“That’s what it says on my degree,” I said. “And you’re Atlas Underwood, inside centre.”

“Yep,” he said. His gaze lingered on me again, like he expected me to say something else.

“I need you to lower the ice pack and sit still so we can see how broken it is,” I said.

“Sure, Doc.” Gingerly, he lowered the ice and half-closed his eyes, his body completely still.

I stepped back and let the x-ray technician do their job. While they took the images, I watched over their shoulder, glancing at the player every once in a while.

“Looks like a linear fracture,” the tech said, only loud enough for me to hear. “Not too bad, considering.”

I squinted at the images on the screen. “I agree. It could have been worse.”

“Why are you whispering?” Atlas snapped.

“We’re conferring,” I said easily. I waited for the technician to turn the machine off before stepping back around to the other side. “As we suspected, it’s broken, but it’s not too bad.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think it was life-threatening,” he said, putting the ice back to his face.

“Not this time, no,” I agreed. “You got lucky.”

His golden eyes slid up and down my body. “Not yet I didn’t.”

“Keep the ice on your face for a while,” I instructed. “We need to keep the swelling down as much as possible. It’ll be that and ibuprofen for the next few days. How many times have you broken it before?” While we waited for his pain to ease, I turned on the computer and looked him up.

“Three times,” he said. “The other two were by the opposition. Not a fucking so-called teammate.” He all but spat out the last word.

“You and Storm don’t get along,” I said. I glanced over my shoulder at him before turning back and adding today’s incident to his medical record.

“Storm is a dickhead,” Atlas snapped. “His fucking friends too.”

“Frost and Dallas,” I said. I tried to keep my expression as neutral as possible. We weren’t here to discuss my personal life. I certainly wasn’t going to bring it into the conversation.

“Yeah, them. They all think they’re king shit.” He adjusted the ice and winced.

I turned and leaned my back against the wall beside the computer. I crossed my arms over my chest and asked, “What do you think?”

He tilted his face so I could see his smile. “IknowI’m king shit. Me and Jay, we’re too good for this fucking team. Everybody knows it and they’re fucking jealous.”

“You wish you were still back with the Sydney Devils,” I guessed.

His gaze dropped to my chest for a few moments before returning to my face. “Wouldn’t you? We won the premiership and got dumped into this shit hole. Wouldn’t you be pissed off?”

“If I was team doctor for the Devils and had to transfer here, how would I feel?” I mused. “To be honest, I’d be happy just to be doing what I love.”

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