Icing the Grump (Ice Hearts)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

T rinity

I took a deep breath, smoothing down my crisp new scrubs as I stepped into the Elite Sports Therapy Clinic. The smell of antiseptic and determination hit me like a wall, and I couldn't help but grin. This was it. My big break. The chance to prove myself in the world of high-stakes sports medicine.

"Trinity Owen?" A stern voice called out, snapping me out of my reverie.

I spun around, nearly dropping my bag. "Yes, that's me!" I chirped, wincing internally at how eager I sounded.

The woman before me was all sharp angles and pressed lines, her silver hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her name tag read "Dr. Evelyn Frost, Clinic Director." She gave me a once-over, her lips pursed.

"Follow me," she said crisply, turning on her heel.

I scrambled after her, my heart pounding. This was not how I'd imagined my first day starting, but I was determined to make a good impression.

Dr. Frost led me to a small office, gesturing for me to sit. "I'll be frank, Ms. Owen. We don't usually take on such... inexperienced therapists. "

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to fidget. "I understand, Dr. Frost. I'm incredibly grateful for this opportunity, and I promise you won't regret-"

She held up a hand, cutting me off. "Save your promises. You're here because Dr. Ramirez vouched for you. Don't make him regret it."

I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry. Dr. Ramirez had been my mentor during my internship, and I owed him big time for this recommendation.

Dr. Frost slid a file across the desk. "Your first patient. Chase Callahan."

My eyes widened. "The Chase Callahan? The hockey player?"

She nodded, her expression unreadable. "The very same. He sustained a severe knee injury during the playoffs. Surgery was successful, but his recovery has been challenging."

I flipped open the file, scanning the details. "It says here he's been through three therapists already?"

"Correct. Mr. Callahan can be difficult." Dr. Frost's lips thinned. "This is your chance to prove yourself, Ms. Owen. Don't waste it."

With that, she stood, clearly dismissing me. I clutched the file to my chest, my mind racing. Chase Callahan. NHL superstar. Known for his lightning-fast slapshots and his even faster temper on the ice. And now, my patient.

I made my way to the assigned treatment room, my palms sweating. I could do this. I'd dealt with difficult patients before. Maybe not millionaire athletes, but still. I took a deep breath, plastered on my most confident smile, and pushed open the door.

The man sitting on the treatment table was a far cry from the grinning, triumphant figure I'd seen plastered across sports magazines. Chase Callahan looked defeated. His broad shoulders slumped, and his usually perfectly styled hair looked as if he had been running his hands through it. But when he looked up at me, his eyes flashed with something that made my stomach clench. Anger. Frustration. And a lot of don't mess with me attitude.

"Hi there!" I said, injecting as much warmth into my voice as I could. "I'm Trinity Owen, your new physical therapist. It's great to meet you, Mr. Callahan."

He scowled, his jaw clenching. "Chase. And let me guess, you're a big fan? Want an autograph before we get started?"

I blinked, taken aback by the venom in his voice. "Actually, I'm more of a basketball girl myself," I said, trying for a light tone. "But I hear you're pretty good with a stick and a puck."

His scowl deepened. "Yeah, I was. Past tense. Thanks for the reminder."

Okay, this was not going well. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that under all that hostility was a man in pain, frustrated by a body that had betrayed him. I'd seen it before, just not on quite this scale.

"Look, Chase," I said, softening my voice. "I know this isn't easy. But I'm here to help you get back on the ice. That's my only goal. No autographs, no fan-girling. Just good, solid PT work. What do you say we get started?"

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. Hope, maybe? But that same hard anger quickly replaced it. "Whatever," he muttered. "Let's just get this over with."

I nodded, pulling out my notebook. "Alright, let's start with a quick evaluation. How would you rate your pain level today, on a scale of one to ten?"

Chase snorted. "Eleven. This whole thing is pain."

I jotted that down, trying not to let my frustration show. "Okay, and how about your range of motion? Can you show me how far you can bend your knee?"

He stared at me for a long moment, his blue eyes cold. Then, without warning, he swung his legs off the table and stood up. "You want to see my range of motion? Here."

Before I could stop him, Chase took a step forward. His knee buckled almost immediately, and he stumbled. I lunged forward, catching his arm before he could fall.

"Whoa there, cowboy," I said, steadying him. "That's not exactly what I meant."

For a split second, our eyes met. This close, I could see the flecks of green in his blue irises, and could feel the heat radiating off his skin. My heart did a little stutter-step that had nothing to do with the near-fall.

Then Chase jerked away from me, his face flushing with anger or maybe embarrassment. "This is bullshit," he growled. "I don't need another perky little therapist telling me to take it easy and do my exercises. I need to get back on the damn ice!"

I took a step back, giving him space. "I get it, Chase. You're frustrated. But pushing too hard too fast is only going to set you back further. We need to-"

"We don't need to do anything," he snapped. "I'm done. Tell Frost she can find herself another charity case."

With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving me standing there, my mouth hanging open. I could hear him in the hallway, his uneven gait punctuated by muttered curses.

For a moment, I just stood there, my mind reeling. This was not how I'd imagined my first day going. Not even close. I slumped against the treatment table, running a hand through my hair.

"Well, that could have gone better," I muttered to myself.

But as the initial shock wore off, something else took its place. Determination. I hadn't worked my ass off through years of school and training to give up at the first sign of a difficult patient. Chase Callahan might be a superstar, but right now, he was a man in pain, lashing out because he was scared. And I'd be damned if I was going to let him push me away that easily.

I straightened up, squaring my shoulders. Okay, so my first attempt had been a bust. But I wasn't out of tricks yet. I pulled out my notebook, flipping to a fresh page. If I was going to help Chase, I needed to understand him better. What made him tick? What motivated him?

I jotted notes, ideas forming as I wrote. Maybe I could reach out to his teammates, get a sense of what kind of training regimen he was used to. Or look into alternative therapies that might appeal to his competitive nature. Anything to get him engaged in his recovery.

A knock at the door interrupted my brainstorming. I looked up to see Dr. Frost standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable.

"I see Mr. Callahan has left," she said, her tone dry.

I swallowed hard, straightening up. "Yes, but I'm not giving up. I just need to adjust my approach. If I could have a little more time-"

Dr. Frost held up a hand, cutting me off. "Ms. Owen, I appreciate your enthusiasm. But Mr. Callahan is one of our most high-profile patients. We can't afford to waste time on techniques that don't work."

My heart sank. This was it. I was going to be fired on my first day. But then, to my surprise, Dr. Frost's expression softened slightly.

"However," she continued, "I admire your determination. You have until the end of the week to show some progress with Mr. Callahan. If you can't, we'll have to reassign him. Is that clear?"

I nodded, relief washing over me. "Crystal clear. Thank you, Dr. Frost. I won't let you down."

She gave me a curt nod and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more. I looked down at my notebook, at the scribbled ideas and half-formed plans. I had a week to crack the tough exterior of Chase Callahan. To help him see that recovery was possible, that his career wasn't over.

It was a daunting task, but as I stood there, a strange sense of calm settled over me. This was why I'd become a physical therapist. To help people when they were at their lowest, to show them that there was still hope. Chase might be my toughest case yet, but I was up for the challenge.

I gathered my things, my mind already racing with plans for tomorrow. I'd need to do some research tonight, maybe reach out to some contacts in the hockey world. Anything to give me an edge.

As I left the clinic, the setting sun painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, I couldn't help but smile. It hadn't been the first day I'd imagined, but it had certainly been memorable. And who knew? Maybe this was exactly the challenge I needed to prove myself.

One thing was for sure, Chase Callahan had no idea what he was in for. Because I did not give up easily. And I had a feeling that underneath all that anger and frustration was a man who wasn't ready to give up, either. He just needed someone to remind him of that.