Page 47 of Cheap Shot
She thrusts the cup into my hand before turning to grab her tablet off the training table beside me. Her eyebrows pull down in concentration, and adorable wrinkles form between them.Jesus,what the fuck is wrong with me, and when did I start calling things adorable, especially a freaking wrinkle on someone’s face?
I shake my head as her eyes flick to mine before going back to the screen. “Here's the deal. You push too fast, you’ll tear it again. You tear it again, and your career’s done.”
“How many times do I need to explain that I can't wait around? The team paid a shit ton of money to get me out of my current contract and is taking a chance on me. I have to prove to them it was all worth it.”
Michele doesn’t flinch at my admission, further proving that she must have known what was going on with me when we met, but she couldn’t fake her reaction to my touch. Things between us may have originally started out as just a job, but at some point, the lines may have blurred on her end. Either way, I think trying to find a way to break down the walls Michele has put between us is going to be fun.
“Who said anything about waiting, Hendrix? I’ll come up with a plan to get you back on the ice with limited contact by the end of rookie camp.”
“But—”
That isn’t enough. Not only am I fighting for a place on the ice against veterans on the team, but I have rookies to compete with, too. They are younger, faster, and have many more years in them on the ice. I don’t expect to retire anytime soon, but after any major injury, you never know how much time your body will give you to play. And although I doubt any of them want a chance at the Cup more than me, who knows what the coaching staff is thinking?
“But nothing, Hendrix. I’ll give you the plan. You follow it. No solo skates. No extra lifts. No testing limits unless I give you the okay.”
I’ve never been good at taking instructions from anyone, but something about the authoritative tone in her voice is doing very strange things to my body that I don’t have the time or bandwidth to unpack. But unlucky for her, I can give just as much as I get, if not more.
I take a step closer to her, forcing her to look up at me. Her breath hitches, and her pupils dilate. A look of pure longing settles on her face as I lean down beside her ear and whisper, “Or what?”
“Or I tell the coaching staff you’re not ready,” she responds breathlessly, placing her hand in the center of my chest. It tightens on my shirt, pulling me closer as she rises on her toes. “I have the final say on whether you set foot on the ice as a Timberwolf or get sent packing.”
My body stiffens before I let out a loud, boisterous laugh, my shoulder shaking as I drop my forehead to hers and smile. “This round goes to you, Trouble.”
“I play to win, Hendrix. The quicker you learn that, the better things will be for both of us.” She winks before releasing my shirt and stepping away from me. “Now go get your shit and meet me in the weight room. We don’t want to waste any time, right?”
“Right.” I chuckle, giving her a mock salute. “What’s first?”
“Mobility work. Stability drills. Isometrics. We build the base, or we build nothing at all.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I wink at her before spinning on my heels and heading back into the locker room.
There are a few people milling around, some faces I’ve seen while playing in the league, but most of them are brand new. I should stop and chat with a few of them, build rapport, but right now, my mind has a single focus: change and get to the weight room to spend more time with Michele.
I make quick work of changing out of my jeans and pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants. I turn to head to the weight room to meet Michele when I notice the last person I want to see right now push through the locker room doors: my big brother.
Cooper strides toward us, getting stopped by every player he makes eye contact with. Everyone is fawning over him, as usual. The golden boy, the superstar, the person everyone wants to be like when they step on the ice. Too bad I know the truth. He’s a piece of shit who does anything he can to control those around them, playing them like puppets. He showers them with praise until they dare do something he doesn’t like or agree with, then he throws them away like trash.
“Holy shit, I thought I’d have some time to prepare myself before seeing Cooper Hendrix in the flesh.”
“Why? He’s no one special,” I mumble under my breath, glancing down at the owner of the voice seated on the bench beside me. “He puts his skates on one foot at a time, just like the rest of us.”
My eyes remain focused on Cooper as he inches closer, no doubt wanting to give me some word of warning about not embarrassing him or something.
“Yeah. Whatever you say, bro,” he scoffs before looking up at me, his eyes widening in surprise. His mouth opens and closes before he points toward me and then to Cooper. “You’re…and he is…”
I’d laugh if this wasn’t the most fucked-up situation I’ve been in recently. “Close your mouth before you embarrass yourself...” I pause, waiting for him to supply his name.
“Samuel. Patrick Samuel, but everyone usually calls me Sammy, sir.”
“Don’t fucking call me sir. Sir is my—” My breath hitches, but I push through the sharp pain shooting through my chest. “Just don’t call me that. I’m Cole.”
I hold my hand toward him, and he grips it in his, giving it a firm shake. The slight ache in my shoulder from Michele’s stunt earlier causes me to wince slightly. “Sorry. Is that your bad shoulder? I didn’t mean to hurt you. Do you need me to get a trainer? I can just run right into the training room.”
Sammy jumps to his feet, ready to rush to the training room, but I grab his shoulder and force him back down on the bench. “No need. I came to grab my stuff and head to the weight room. I have a session with my physio today.”
Sammy opens his mouth to respond, but only squeaks, his eyes widening as he looks at someone over my shoulder. Judging by his reaction, I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.
“How’s it going, Cole?” There’s a slight hesitation in his voice, but nothing to make anyone wonder what the tension is between us.
