Page 27 of Pucking the Single Dad
"Is he okay now?"
"Grew out of the worst of it by high school. Plays soccer for UT Austin now." She smiled. "But those early years shaped both of us."
"Finn and I are lucky to have you in our lives."
"So am I," she said softly. "Lucky, I mean."
The words hung between us, weighted with meaning neither of us was ready to unpack.
A knock at the door broke the spell—Patricia, arriving despite the weather because Theo had insisted. She swept in bringing cold air and designer perfume, her medical bag slung over one shoulder.
"Well, well," she said, pulling off her coat to reveal a fitted sweater that was decidedly un-medical. "The team captain needs a house call? I should charge extra for hazard pay in this weather." She smiled at me, touching my shoulder lightly. "Though for you, I might make an exception."
Serena stood abruptly. "I'll go clean the kitchen."
After she disappeared into the kitchen, Patricia knelt beside my leg, her hands warm on my knee. "So, injured yourself being heroic again? Let me guess—saving someone from the storm?" Her fingers pressed gently, professionally, but lingered a beat longer than necessary.
"Something like that," I managed, hyperaware of Serena aggressively reorganizing dishes in the kitchen.
Patricia examined my knee with professional thoroughness, though she maintained unnecessary contact with her free hand on my thigh "for stability." "You really did a number on this. When's the last time we were alone together? That charity event?"
A cabinet door closed with slightly too much force in the kitchen.
"That was two years ago," I said. "With Sarah."
"Right. Of course." Patricia had the grace to look embarrassed. She refocused on the exam, all business now."Definitely reaggravated. You need an MRI, but I'm guessing significant tissue damage. Minimum two weeks off the ice, probably four."
"The playoffs—"
"Will happen with or without you. Don't make this worse by pushing too soon." She packed her medical bag slowly. "I could check on you personally later this week. Make sure you're following orders."
"That's not necessary," Serena said crisply from the kitchen. "I'm familiar with the recovery protocols."
Patricia's smile was knowing. "I'm sure you are. Well, I'll leave you in your friend's capable hands. She seems very... attentive."
After she left, Serena busied herself with unnecessary kitchen cleaning.
"Hey," I called. "You okay?"
"Fine. Just tidying up."
"Serena."
She paused, back to me. "She's very pretty."
"She's the team doctor."
"And very pretty."
"And completely irrelevant to anything important in my life."
She turned then, something vulnerable in her expression. "I have no right to feel..."
"Feel what?"
"Nothing. It's nothing." She grabbed the ice pack. "This needs refreshing."
She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me alone with the realization that her jealousy—because that's what it was—didn't bother me at all.
