Page 81 of Pucking Around

“Maybe a four.”

I nod, taking more mental notes. “Okay, you can get up. We’re done for now.”

He sits up but doesn’t get off the table. “Well?”

“I don’t want to engage in wild speculation.”

“Is it wild speculation when you’re a hip and knee expert? You must have an opinion.”

I glance over at him. “Okay, well…first impressions? I don’t actually think it’s a groin pull.”

His hopeful expression falls. “You think it’s something worse.”

“No, not necessarily worse, just…different,” I reply. “I think the problem is deeper inside your hip. I think it might be your labrum. It’s a common injury in ice hockey and soccer given your constant overextension. And you’re likely to feel it like a groin pull, but not actually have outward symptoms of a pull,” I add.

“Does it require surgery?”

“Not always.”

“But sometimes?”

I nod. “But then so do some groin pulls,” I add. “I’ve seen cases of both. If any tear gets bad enough, it’ll require surgery to fix it. That’s what we need to ward against from here on out. If your labral tear isn’t too bad, we can rehab it, and get you on a strict strength and conditioning regime to get those hips as strong as possible.”

“I’ll do whatever you say, Doc,” he replies.

I smile. “I don’t want you to worry, okay? We’ve got a plan. And you played great this week. Go home and rest. And you’re gonna call in sick for your Monday practice, right?”

He nods, his expression darkening.

“I’ll speak to your strength and conditioning team and say you’re working with me. Then Wednesday is the travel day up to Pennsylvania, so you can rest then too,” I add, ticking the days off on my fingers. “Friday and Sunday are game days. I really wish you’d skip the first one—”

“No,” he mutters.

“Davidson suits up for a reason, you know. He’s a damn fine goalie—”

“He’s a sieve—”

“He’s your teammate!”

Ilmari crosses his arms, glaring at me. “I have to start.”

I just shake my head. “On your head be it then.”

He nods, his gaze falling to his hands folded in his lap.

“Hey,” I murmur, stepping closer.

He glances up sharply, his stormy blue eyes narrowed.

“I’ll be watching, okay? You’re not alone, Mars. I’ve got your back.”

He holds my gaze for a moment. He has nothing of the pretty boy looks of Jake or a sweet puppy like Langley. No, Mars Kinnunen is all man. He’s rugged and sharp-edged and not my type at all. And yet, I feel inexplicably drawn to him.

Then he slips off the table and suddenly the air in the room seems to vanish. He’s a whole foot taller than me. His chart reads 6’5”. Closing the space between us, he surprises me by wrapping me in a tight embrace.

I go stiff, his scent filling my senses as he wraps his strong arms around my shoulders, his chin dropping to rest on the crown of my head. Recovering from my surprise, I wrap my arms loosely around him, hugging him back.

“Thank you, Rachel,” he says for the second time today. Then he’s pulling back, leaving me chasing his warmth and his scent that smells like my every dream of home.

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