Page 26 of ICED
I glance at the clock, it’s half past ten. My physio with Mia’s at eleven. I bookmark a couple of the car seats and shut the laptop before I can spiral into a comparison rabbit hole.
Still feels a bit surreal, all of this. That I’m sitting here, afully grown man, researching booster seats and crash ratings because a three-year-old handed me two sticky raisins and called me Mr Bear.
And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“Strip,” Mia says cheerfully as I walk into the physio suite.
I blink. “Buy me dinner first?”
She snorts and gestures toward the treatment table. “Shirt off, gentle giant. Let’s see what that shoulder’s saying today.”
I peel off my hoodie and sit while she does her thing. Range of motion tests, gentle pressure, that ridiculously cold gel she always forgets to warn me about.
“Any pain?” she asks, manipulating my arm.
“Just your bedside manner.”
“Be serious, Jacko.”
“Fine. No pain. Bit of stiffness if I overreach, but it’s minor.”
She raises a brow, then taps a few notes into her tablet. “You’ve done well. Rehab’s been textbook. You’ve even got better posture than when we started.”
“Been doing those stupid wall angels you love.”
“They’re not stupid. They’re science.”
“They make me feel like a penguin at ballet school.”
Mia laughs, then sobers. “Want the good news?”
I nod, heart kicking up a notch.
“You’re cleared.”
I blink. “To play?”
“Yep. I’ll submit the official sign-off to Coach today. You can suit up next match.”
Something loosens in my chest, a coil I didn’t realise had wound so tightly. I grin and fist-bump her with my good hand. “Cheers, Mia. Seriously.”
She gives me a soft smile. “You’ve earned it. Just don’t doanything stupid, yeah? Or I’ll never hear the end of it from Dylan.”
“No promises.”
Murphy’s halfway through a protein shake when I walk into the locker room, his shirt hanging off one shoulder like he’s trying to be in a Calvin Klein ad. Ollie’s on the bench beside him, re-taping his stick while humming something vaguely threatening fromLes Misérables.
“Oi, Jacko,” Murphy calls. “Looking limber. You stretching for fun now, or what?”
Ollie glances up. “Is he finally back on the ice, or just here to judge our fashion choices?”
I toss my gym bag down and grin. “Cleared this morning.”
There’s a beat of silence, then Ollie whoops and throws his stick tape in the air like he’s just scored a hat trick.
“You beauty!” he yells. “Back in the trenches!”
Murphy beams. “About bloody time. We’ve been losing fights without our enforcer. I had tothreaten someonelast week. With my words.”
