Page 49 of Cheap Shot
Michele
“How in the fucking hell am I going to make it through the entire season like this?” I groan, dropping onto the couch in my condo.
Saying today was rough is an understatement, but it could always have been worse. After my disastrous meeting with Cole in the locker room, I got him set up with some mobility exercises to get him started, and then I went to Parker’s office to go over files. By the time I finished and went back to the weight room, Cole had disappeared. It only took a few minutes for me to find him on the ice with the rest of the team. It took everything in me not to storm out there and drag him off by his ear.
Imhotep hops up in my lap and purrs, “Yeah, Momma had a really tough day.”
There is just something about a cat purring that soothes my nerves, especially when I’m overly stressed. Sometimes, having Imhotep in my lap works better than my anxiety meds, but I’ll never go without them. I googled once about a cat's purrs, and not only does it express their contentment and happiness, but the rhythmic vibrations have the potential to lower their owner's blood pressure and reduce stress levels. His skin feels like warm suede against my hand as I run it down his back before starting the process all over again. Most people would think it would feel weird, but it's surprisingly pleasant.
My head drops to the back of the couch. I can feel the stress leaking from my system the more Imhotep purrs. That is until Stacey drops onto the couch beside me. “Was it really that bad? According to Parker, today was an easy day in the training room.”
“Are you kidding me? If that was easy, I’m so screwed.” I groan, trying to decide if taking this job was a good idea.
Sure, I can handle a group of rowdy hockey players, but Cole is going to be a problem. Judging by what he said about this being his last chance at the Cup, I doubt he’d do anything to jeopardize that, but I have a feeling he’s going to fight me tooth and nail all the way. The only problem is I don’t know if I want to kick his ass for not listening or kiss him. Right now, I’m leaning more toward kicking his ass, but I have a feeling that might change daily.
“Look on the bright side. You didn’t have to deal with moody hockey players and your dad at the same time.”
More like one particular hockey player that I’m worried about. Not only do I need to figure out how to keep my libido under control whenever I’m around Cole, but I also need to be on my best behavior whenever I’m in the general vicinity of Dad. Couldn’t the universe give me something hard to handle? No. No, universe. Please don’t. I’m just kidding. Actually, if you could go a little easier on me for the foreseeable future, I’d appreciate it.
“Thank the Lord for small favors. Now, if I could only get out of family dinner this weekend.”
“Weren’t you just there last Saturday?” Stacey questions.
“Yes, but apparently, my dad and Jessica miss seeing all of their girls.”
Imhotep’s purrs are no longer helping my stress level, which is now through the roof at the mention of spending more time with my family. I love them, but the thought of spending any significant amount of time there makes me want to vomit. If any future family dinners go like the one last weekend, I’m in trouble. Sitting through another lecture about respecting myself and my family by keeping them in the loop while also being told what a disappointment I am has already been checked off my bingo card.
“More like your dad wants a play-by-play of what’s happening in the locker room.” Stacey scratches the cat behind the ear.
“If he wanted that, he could just ask Parker.”
“You know damn well Parker only tells your dad what he needs to know, so he plans on guilting you into telling him anything else he wants to know.”
Parker’s desire to keep the players' secrets from Dad has always been a sore spot between the two men, but he’s only doing his job. Most people don’t know this, but physical and physiotherapists also have to follow all Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA) guidelines, just like doctors. So even if we wanted to, we couldn’t tell him anything unless the player was a danger to themselves or others, much to Dad’s displeasure.
“Doctor-patient privilege covers all of that.” I smile, pushing off the couch and heading toward my room. All this talk of my Dad’s scheming has me wanting to take a shower sooner rather than later.
“But you know he’s going to try.”
“Oh, I know he is, but it doesn’t matter because I’m not telling him shit.”
“Hold your horses, Shell my bell.” Stacey grabs my hand, pulling me back down onto the couch. “You aren’t going anywhere until you tell me what happened with you and Mr. Hendrix.”
“Nothing. Happened.”
“Oh, no. Don’t give me that, Michele.” Stacey lets go of my hand and slides to the edge of the couch, resting her chin in her palms. “Spill, woman.”
I flop down on the couch and try to think of how to explain my reunion with Cole to Stacey. “He asked me if you and I were really friends.”
She recoils slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Out of all the things he could say to you after practically stalking you for the last few weeks, he chose that.”
“I know! What kind of question is that—wait, he was stalking me?”
This is news to me. Sure, I hung around the therapy center after my sessions and came in early enough to not draw attention for a chance to see him, but I had no idea he was looking for me. Does this change anything? Maybe. No. No. It changes nothing. It can’t change anything. At least that's what my mind is saying, but my heart has other plans.
“You knew he came back to the therapy center looking for me and never said anything? Why didn’t you tell me?”
I want to pretend like I haven’t been hit by a freight train, but I can’t. Stacey has always been my ride or die, the one person ready to take down the world for me. But she knew how much I regretted not taking Cole up on his offer for coffee. I just don’t understand why she’d hide this from me.
