Page 50 of What Are the Chances
“The student PT,” Morrison clarified. “Richard has sent me to her.”
Richard was our head trainer, the person Riley reported to for her assessment.
I cleared my throat, realigning my thoughts.Morrison’s not after Riley, Caufield.Calm the fuck down.
“Yeah. You injured?”
“Nah. Just a niggly ankle that Richard thinks is worth keeping tabs on.”
This late in the season, the injuries were starting to mount. Our bodies were fatiguing, but it was all part of it. That’s what an off-season was for.
Richard tended to perform the same assessment on me after Riley did, minus the shoulder. It was his way of ensuring her assessments were accurate. So far she’d passed with flying colours. But no surprises there.
“She’s good,” Tripp said.
And hell, his affirmation made me feel kind of mushy.
Maxwell leaned over, joining the conversation. “She’s also hot. Hilly showed me a picture because his older brother is in her class and–”
“She’s off limits,” I bit.
My grip on my glass instantly tightened, so tight I was worried it might crack.
If our trainer was going to send more guys Riley’s way – great. That was good for her. But the grounds needed to be set now. If anybody touched her, I’d rip their hands off their body. And their dick too. Teammate or not.
Beside me Ryan chuckled under his breath.
Maxwell’s eyebrows shot up. “You hitting that? Damn, Caufield. Props. She’s a smoke show.”
Tripp snickered. “Will wishes. They’re ancient history, bro.”
I didn’t know what Riley and I were, but whatever it was wasn’t ancient. And I sure as hell was praying it didn’t stay history.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The hockey player spell
RILEY
I was prepared today. I sat facing the doorway, on guard.
Stella had been and gone. Like Grace, Stella was incredibly nice. My sessions with her were always easy, never forced. The conversation flowed like we were lifelong friends. Something told me Stella had a knack of making anyone relax around her.
I was halfway through an email when Grace walked in with Tripp. They were mid-conversation, but it tailed off when they saw me.
“Well, one of you is going to have to change,” Tripp mused.
I checked out Grace’s outfit before looking down at mine. We were both in black leggings, an oversized grey sweater, and a black vest. We even had matching athletic socks and trainers. It was kind of funny, particularly given we were heading out for breakfast after this.
I’d started speaking to Grace more and more outside of our PT catchups. When she’d suggested breakfast, I’d been excited. So long as Holloway wasn’t in tow because that may still be a bit awkward.
“Will isn’t far behind,” Tripp said. “He got caught up with Coach.”
Of course.
“How’s your back?” I checked.
“World’s better. You’re a freaking wizard, Dover.”
