Page 56 of Doc Defence

“Yeah. I balance on thin blades for a living. I’m usually pretty steady on my feet when I’m not drunk.” A frown crossed his face. “I guess I should say I used to skate for a living. Man, this is going to be difficult to get used to.”

“I’m sorry.” Hel checked her phone and frowned, she wished she could stay and talk about it, but she needed to go to work.

Frost noticed the direction of her gaze. “Anyway, you don’t have time for me to complain this morning. You need to leave for work.”

He took a delicious-looking bowl of food out of the fridge and put a very generous helping into the plastic container.

“Oh, no. That’s way too much. You won’t have enough for yourself.” Hel stepped across to him and peered down into the bowl to check how much he had left.

“It’s fine,” Frost reassured her.

Hel wasn’t convinced and tried to put some back. “No really, this is so generous of you. I can’t take all your food.”

Frost placed his hand over hers, gently pried the spoon out of it, and put the lid onto the Tupperware. “Hel, it’s for you. I’m going to be home all day. I can have something else with the salad. You don’t have that luxury.”

They gazed at each other for a long moment before Hel whispered, “I’m going to be late.”

Frost murmured back, “Yes.”

They held eye contact until Hel broke it and stepped away from him. “See you tonight.”

CHAPTER 19

FROST

FrostwatchedHelwalkout the door. He had been telling the truth; he did usually wake up early, but he had set an alarm to be sure he was up in time to make her breakfast and lunch. He told himself it was because he had nothing else to do for the rest of the day and wanted to do something nice. But a small part of his brain told him to stop telling lies. He wanted her to like him. He wanted her to spend more time with him.

He grinned while he tidied up the kitchen. With the amount of time she spent with her eyes locked on his, he was pretty sure the red-headed doctor liked him too.

His phone rang, pulling him from his happy thoughts, and he frowned down at the screen. It was his agent, Trent.

Trent phoned him while he was in hospital, trying to discuss what was next for him and whether he had considered the coaching offer, but Frost had been in too much pain to even contemplate discussing it. So Trent phoned him every day, allegedly to ‘check in’.

Frost was realistic, he knew that once you didn’t play in the NHL any more, unless you were one of the top zero point zero, zero, one percent who were household names and would go on to sign large television deals and endorsements, your income dropped so significantly that the senior agents in the firm, like Trent, would hand you over to one of the junior guys so they could concentrate on the up and coming players.

Frost needed to make his mind up. He had to accept he was no longer an ice hockey player and move on with his life, however much it broke his heart that his last season was done.

Taking a deep breath, he answered the phone. “Trent. Morning.”

“Hey, Frost. What time is it with you?” Trent’s booming Californian accent echoed from the phone.

Trent was a loud and charismatic guy. Whatever room he was in, he commanded all the attention and used that gift to ensure the spotlight was always shining brightly on his players.

“Eight in the morning.” Frost grinned wryly. Trent was going for the small talk method rather than getting directly to the point.

“It’s the afternoon here and a beautiful day!”

Trent sounded so happy that Frost could almost believe he had set one foot outside the air conditioning of his office. But his agent hated the heat and loathed sweating and would happily dash from an airconditioned office to his car and into his house rather than subject himself to getting a slightly damp brow.

“Great. It’s sunny out here, too.” Frost suppressed his chuckle and joined the pointless small talk. Wondering when Trent would get to the point.

His agent was in no rush, and they spoke some more about the weather. Trent asked him about the Australian wildlife, and Frost pointed out that, no, he wasn’t far enough north to be in danger from crocodiles, and he also hadn’t seen any venomous snakes or spiders.

Finally, after asking about every member of his family, Trent asked, “Have you had any more thoughts about next season?”

“Yeah. I have.” An inkling of an idea began to cross Frost’s mind. He had never coached before and had no idea if he was cut out for it. What if he accepted the NHL coaching contract and found out partway through the season that it wasn’t for him, or he was awful at it?

“That’s great. What shall we tell them?” Trent said enthusiastically.

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