Page 53 of Cheap Shot
“I know,” I respond, her eyes scanning my face as if she’s searching for the answer to her question, but she won’t find it.
The shit between me and my brothers is our business, not the coach’s, training staff’s, or any of our teammates’. When I’m in this arena, we aren’t brothers. Cooper and Beau are my team captains, nothing more. I definitely let Cooper get to me yesterday in front of the team, but it can’t happen again. Not if I want to stay on the team. If I do anything to upset their golden boy, I don’t believe for one minute management won’t send me packing.
“You’re going to have to trust me eventually.”
“I don’t trust just anyone, Trouble. I don’t give my trust out freely. If you want me to trust you, you’re going to have to earn it.”
Pain flashes across her face as she spins away from me. I reach toward her, wanting to know why my words hurt her so badly, but I don’t. Maybe this is for the best. I need to find some way to put some space between us. If she hates me, she won’t want to be around me more than necessary. My heart aches at the idea, but it’s what’s best for both of us.
“Fair.” She doesn’t look at me when she responds, which is fine. I’m not sure how I’ll react if I see the same look in her eyes a second time. “Have you warmed up?”
“Yeah, I ran a few miles before you arrived.”
“How many is a few?”
“Five.”
“That’s a lot more than a few in my book, but that will do.” She tsks, glancing down at her tablet. “Start with the band pulls. Do three sets of fifteen. Focus on slow and controlled movement so we don’t aggravate anything.”
I nod my head, heading over to the resistance bands. There are different colors: yellow, red, green, and blue, each one threaded through large metal loops attached to the wall. I grab the blue band, place one end in each hand, and start pulling.
Michele places her hand on my wrists, shaking her head. “Not on your life, Hendrix. Grab the yellow band.”
I bite back a groan as I drop the band, my skin tingling from where she touched me. “Yellow? Are you sure? I’ve been using the blue one for my at-home training plan from the therapy center.”
Michele reaches for the yellow band, holding it out to me. “Then you must have a problem following directions because I know for a fact the exercise you were sent home with from the therapy center says to use the yellow and then red, nothing about blue.”
I’ve been increasing the pounds of resistance on the band I’m using since I was discharged from the therapy center a few weeks ago. When I was there, we used the smallest amount of resistance, yellow, and Stacey said I could move up to the red if I wanted, but I don’t have time for that. Instead, I went right for the black band, second to the strongest, at eighteen pounds, when working out at home. I couldn’t do as many reps as I could with the lower resistance, but that doesn’t matter. I’d have gone right for black today, but blue was the strongest they had.
“And how do you know that?”
Michele rolls her eyes, dropping the band and stepping closer to me. The smell of her floral perfume and something that is entirely her reaches my nose, and I inhale her delicious scent.
“Your old therapist is my best friend and roommate.” Michele jabs her finger into my chest. The end of her ponytail swings back and forth, taunting me. “She’s also Parker, the head athletic trainer’s girlfriend. You won’t get anything over on us. So get with the program and stop wasting our time.”
“Someone is a little touchy this morning.” I reach forward, grabbing her hair. She pulls back, and I let her hair run through my palm. The feeling of it sliding across my skin is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
Our eyes remain locked on each other as the air crackles between us. It’s been like this ever since the first moment I laid eyes on Michele at the therapy center. It’s like something is forcing us together, laying a path that we have to follow whether we like it or not. Either way, this connection between us is insane. How can someone be so infuriating, but I can’t keep my hands off her? The need to touch her, to be near her, is like breathing. It’s as if there’s a part of me that knows her. That finally became complete the moment I laid eyes on her.
“I’m not touchy. Someone has to stop you from impeding your own recovery.” Michele’s cheeks are a delicious shade of pink as I reach for her, my hand cupping her cheek. Her eyes drift shut, and her lips part as I brush my thumb over her cheek.
All I have to do is lean forward and press my lips against hers, but I drop a kiss on her forehead. Her eyes flutter open, a soft smile spreading across her face as if she is waking up from her favorite dream. But that glassy and blissed-out look on her face is quickly replaced with something else. She immediately takes a step back, putting some much-needed space between us.
“Can we maybe find a compromise?”
“How about we make a wager instead? Add some stakes to it.”
“I’m listening.”
“I told you when we went over your treatment plan that I could get you on the ice by the end of rookie camp, but only if you do everything I say.” I nod my head, now completely interested in what she has to say. “If I don’t make it happen, I’ll quit.”
“You’ll do what?” I bellow, wondering how things have taken such a drastic turn.
“I’ll quit,” she repeats as if she’s talking about the weather and not completely changing the course of her life because of me.
“You’d quit your job just to make me do what you want?” I question, my mind racing to find another solution. I’m all for a wager, because I thrive on the competition, but I don’t want her to lose her job and the chance to see her regularly just because I’m a stubborn asshole.
“No, I'll quit my job because if I can’t keep my promises to my patients, then I shouldn’t be allowed to have them.” She grips the edge of her ponytail, twirling the tip around her finger. “Look, hockey is in my blood. I grew up in and around the rink. All I’ve ever wanted to do is work with a top-notch NHL franchise, and now I have my chance.”
