Page 22 of Offside for Christmas
Cole straightened. "How did you—"
"You breathe like a rhinoceros." She glanced over her shoulder, and he caught the hint of amusement in her eyes. "And the door hinges squeak."
"Didn't want you breaking down my door again."
"I didn't break it down. I knocked."
"You assaulted it."
Ellie turned to face him fully, and there—just for a second—he saw her fighting a smile. "Potato, potahto."
They stood there for a moment, caught in something that felt dangerously close to friendly, and Cole had the strangest urge to say something real. Something honest. Something that wasn't wrapped in sarcasm or defensiveness.
Instead, he cleared his throat. "So. Two hours?"
"Two hours." Ellie picked up her tablet and pulled up his file. "Hope you're ready. I'm not going easy on you just because you managed to set an alarm."
"You're enjoying this."
"Immensely." She gestured to the PT table. "Warm-up first. Fifteen minutes on the bike, then we start with shoulder mobility work."
Cole dropped his gym bag by the door and headed for the stationary bike in the corner. "You're a sadist."
"I prefer 'committed to evidence-based rehabilitation protocols.'"
"That's a fancy way of saying sadist."
"Get on the bike, Hansen."
He got on the bike.
Ellie worked him harder than she had the previous two sessions combined.
Shoulder rotations with resistance bands. Wall slides until his rotator cuff was screaming. Core work that had nothing to do with his shoulder but apparently everything to do with "preventing compensatory movement patterns." Balance drills that made him feel like an idiot but that Ellie insisted were "essential for proprioceptive retraining."
Cole didn't complain. Partly because his pride wouldn't let him, but mostly because every time he thought about stopping, he'd catch Ellie watching him with those assessing brown eyes, and something stubborn in him refused to be the guy who quit.
"You can take a break," she said somewhere around the forty-five-minute mark, when he was mid-way through his third set of resistance band external rotations and his shoulder felt like it was on fire.
"I'm good," Cole said through gritted teeth.
"Cole, we have ninety more minutes—"
"I said I'm good."
Ellie set down her tablet and moved closer, studying his face. Not his shoulder—his face. Like she could read something there that his words weren't saying.
"This isn't a punishment," she said, softer than he'd heard her speak before. "I'm not trying to break you."
Cole finished the set and lowered his arms, breathing harder than he should be from such a simple exercise. "Then what are you trying to do?"
"Fix you."
"What if I don't want to be fixed?"
"Too bad." But there was something almost gentle in her expression now. "It's my job."
Their eyes met, held. The training room was quiet except for the hum of the fluorescent lights and Cole's slightly elevated breathing. He was suddenly, intensely aware of how close she was standing. Close enough that he could see the faint freckles across the bridge of her nose. Close enough that if he leaned forward—
