Page 7 of Power Play
My breathing quickens and I feel the walls close in on me. I'm spiraling. I'm about to have a fucking panic attack in a broom closet. Great.
I throw open the door and stumble out, needing fresh air. Except, I stumble directly into a wall of muscles. A person. A man by the feel of them.
"Woah, there," a deep voice says, gripping my biceps to hold me steady. Bright blue eyes, sit under dark furrowed brows. "New doc? You alright?"
Panic rises in me, and I need to get out before my heart cracks against my ribs. "Need... fresh air," I gasp out to Jonesy. Yeah, so after I saw Ben, which was literally the thing I was trying to avoid by blacklisting hockey in my life, I finally looked up the rest of the team and who I'd be working with.
He looks behind me and sees Tracey. He looks back and me, and back at Tracey. "Freaky."
"Yeah, freaky. Get me out of here? Please?"
He nods once. "Yeah, come with me."
Tracey calls out after me. "Oh! And I'm your new neighbor! Isn't that great!"
I wave my hand up dismissively. "Alright bestie, I'm going to go find Ben. It's been sooo long."
Her parting shot hits me square in the chest and I double over. My hand goes to my throat, as, if I can pull the invisible noose off of it. Jonesy scoops low and wraps an arm around my upper back and armpit, basically hauling me up a flight of stairs. My vision's starting to fade around the edges. Christ, I'm going to make a great first impression, passing out on my first day. What does it matter if it's only a matter of time before all of this blows up in my face?
I'm vaguely away of an exterior door before it's swung open, and we're blinded by sunshine. It's September, in North Carolina, so it's not all that cold, but the fresh air and sunshine slow down the panic attack.
"In through your nose and out through your mouth," Jonesy says, holding my shoulders and walking me around to one side of the roof.
I close my eyes and attempt to do what he says. It grounds me, gives me something to focus on. I try to push the spiraling thoughts out of my head, and just feel. Just feel the sun on my skin, the breeze on my face, my breath going in and out.
After a few minutes, I'm good. I open my eyes and take in Jonesy's curious grin.
"Thank you," I sigh, suddenly feeling incredibly drained.
He nods to an upturned milk crate, inviting me to sit. I drop gratefully onto it and hang my head between my knees.
"Want to share why the person, who I'm assuming is your twin, gave you a panic attack?"
I open one eye and peer up at him. He moves to block the sun so I can see him better. He's slimmer than a lot of the guys, but still muscular. He's got the body of a forward. I've started learning everyone, but definitely don't have everything memorized. He's handsome, with high cheek bones, dark brown hair and beautiful blue eyes. His jaw is cut in that classic GQ way that screams money, but his tattoos snaking up each arm underneath his T-shirt screams bad boy. This guy's trouble.
"Not really. Wanna tell me about your hiding spot?"
His smile falters, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. He dips his chin. "Not really," he says, giving my words back to me.
He turns and sits on the black, gravelly surface of the roof next to me and closes his eyes, tipping his face to the sun.
We sit in silence, but it's not uncomfortable. I start to wonder what a gorgeous, rich, professional hockey player could need a roof to escape from but stop myself. Looks, money and fame don't cure all of life's issues. Darkness can come in any form, and who I am to judge his?
I take a deep breath in and out. Technically, I was on my lunch break when I ran into Tracey, but I'm going to need to go back to work. I run through scenarios of what I'm walking back into. Another encounter with Tracey. Maybe seeing Tracey and Ben flirting. I'm nauseous.
And my head is fucking killing me. I dig my thumb into the groove in my orbital socket, trying to relieve some of this pressure.
"Fuck!" I shout, as my anxiety, nausea and rage bubble up. My head's killing me and the sweat from my panic is starting to cool onmy skin. I'm not one to complain. I'm not a "it's not fair" type of girl. But fuck if that isn't exactly how I feel.
"You tell 'em," Jonesy teases from next to me.
Fuck this. I'm Lacey fucking Bennett. I shake my head and pull my shoulders back. There's nothing I can't do. It'll feel like shit if I see them together, but I'm going to pull up my big girl panties and be a fucking professional. I'll cry into a bucket of ice cream when I get home. Right now, there's an NHL team who needs their physical therapist.
And I have a lot to prove.
I just needed a little freak out on the roof to remind me of who I am and what I set out to accomplish.
"Right," I say, slapping my knees and standing. "Time to get back to work. Thank you for letting me borrow your secret place. I'll get out of your hair."
