Page 42 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
CHAPTER 10
AUSTIN
The sterile smell of the medical facility hit me as soon as I walked through the sliding doors. I’d spent more time in these places in the last three months than I had in my entire hockey career. The receptionist recognized me immediately, offering a smile that was both sympathetic and professional.
“Mr. Callahan, Dr. Winters is ready for you. Exam room three.”
I nodded, my game face firmly in place as I navigated the familiar hallway, my slight limp less pronounced than it had been a week ago. The medical evaluation today would determine if I was actually making progress or just fooling myself.
Dr. Winters looked up from my chart when I entered, her expression unreadable. “Stone. How’s the knee feeling?”
“Better,” I said, settling onto the examination table. “Less stiffness in the mornings.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Honestly? No bullshit answer just to get back on the ice faster?”
I almost smiled. Dr. Winters was the only medical professional who talked to me like I was a person rather than the team’s most valuable defensive asset.
“Honestly. It’s not perfect, but it’s better.”
“Let’s take a look.”
Her hands were clinical and precise as she examined my knee, testing its range of motion and stability. I braced myself for the usual sharp pain when she manipulated the joint in certain directions, but to my surprise, it was more of a dull ache.
“Hmm,” she said, making notes on her tablet. “Your ligament stability has improved significantly since last month’s evaluation.”
Hope flared in my chest, but I tamped it down. “What does that mean for my timeline?”
“It means you’re healing, Stone. Not overnight, but definitely ahead of where I projected.” She met my eyes directly. “Whatever you’re doing differently, keep doing it.”
“I haven’t changed anything in my rehab protocol,” I insisted.
Dr. Winters gave me a knowing look. “Maybe not the protocol itself, but something’s different. You’re less tense. Your muscle guarding around the joint has decreased, which means better blood flow and faster healing.”
Less tense? Me? I almost laughed.
After Dr. Winters finished her evaluation, I headed down the hall toward the exit—but didn’t turn into the PT room. Not yet. I had a meeting to get to.
I stepped into the glass conference room of the marketing suite the team used for sponsorships and press calls. My agent Tom was already there, flanked by two reps from RimeHydration—the brand apparently eager to slap my face on their next campaign.
“Stone,” Tom greeted, gesturing for me to sit. “Thanks for making time.”
“Let’s make it quick,” I said, folding into the chair with as much patience as I could fake.
The presentation was polished, full of buzzwords likeresilience,performance, andelite recovery.
“They want to keep things on-brand,” Tom said casually, flipping through the slide deck. “Clean image. Focused. No distractions. One of the marketing execs asked about your... personal life.”
I raised a brow. “My personal life?”
“Nothing serious. Just making sure it aligns with the campaign. They’re all about aesthetics. You know how it is—these people want curated perfection. Designer kitchens, white teeth, and plus-ones who look good in group shots.”
I didn’t respond. But the comment sat in my chest like a puck to the sternum.
I nodded when appropriate, gave my pre-approved quotes, and signed off on a preliminary shoot date—pending medical clearance.
It was fine. Clean. Professional.
But the whole time, all I could think about was Kate.
