Page 69 of Top Shelf
“Ferris,” she said slowly as she took the seat behind her desk. “Are you alright? Did Jack upset you?”
I shook my head, froze, then nodded. “I thought he was stalking you.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “No, honey. I just say that because he’s always in my business at work. I don’t actually mind it though. I like working with him for now.”
I raised a brow. “Oh. Are you leaving?” Damn it! I didn’t want to get to know new people again.
“Nah, he is. He’s decided to go back to school to pursue his MD. He’s supposed to be conducting callbacks for a new team physical therapist.”
My heart leapt. Quinn might want to—but no. No. It felt cruel to ask him to be part of a team for a game he loved and would never play again. At least, not the way he wanted. Not the way he should be playing.
“You know someone?” she asked. Shit. She must have caught my expression.
“My old physical therapist used to play in the NHL.” Her eyes widened. “Um.” I swallowed heavily. “Quinn Rhodes. He was in New York when, um…”
“The drunk driver,” she said quietly. “Yeah.” Sitting back, she tapped her nails on the desk. It made a sound I liked a lot. “Maybe I’ll shoot him a message if he’s in town.”
“Oh, I don’t?—”
Her gaze shot up to mine.
Hunching my shoulders, I ducked my head. “Um. Maybe it’ll hurt his feelings to come around the team when he can’t play anymore.”
She said nothing. Her head tilted to the side as she considered my words, and then she leaned back in her chair and clicked on her mouse a few times. “So. Ferris. You ready to talkabout housing. I also have your rookie camp dates, and as soon as Jack signs off on it, I will have your start date for preseason.”
Quinn calledme just as I was heading down to the PT locker room to grab my bag. Most of my equipment had already been set up in my dressing room stall, but I was taking my practice skates with me because we’d been going to the rink a few times a week now that I was discharged from his practice.
I debated about ignoring it again, but that didn’t seem kind or fair. I found a quiet corner in the lobby and answered just before the call went to voicemail.
“Hi.”
“Are you angry with me?”
I blinked in surprise. “Why would I be? That’s a strange question.”
He huffed softly. “You ghosted the chat, refused to pick up when I called you, didn’t answer my very obviously panicked texts?—”
“I didn’t read them,” I told him. “I was feeling anxious and scared I was going to have a meltdown in front of Jack.”
“Who the fuck is Jack?” His voice sounded a little sharper than usual. Jealousy? Or fury?
“My physical therapist.”
He let out a soft breath. “Shit. I knew that. God, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I think I’m feeling a little insecure. Can I come pick you up?”
I pulled the phone away to look at the time. “You’re not done though.”
“Two cancellations,” he said.
Did he cancel, or did they? I didn’t want to encourage bad behavior just so he could spend time with me, but I also really wanted to see him.
“I can meet you at the end of the parking lot.”
He chuckled. “I have a pass, sweetness. I’ll pick you up at the back lot.”
That was far from where I was, but the walk sounded nice. Standing up, I flexed my toes and winced at the stinging pain from my still-healing ankle. “How long?”
“GPS says fifteen minutes, but I don’t trust traffic, so let’s make it twenty.”
