Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
T rinity
I stood my ground, arms crossed, as Chase glared at me from the treatment table. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. We'd been at this for nearly an hour, and I was wondering if I'd made a terrible mistake.
"For the last time, Callahan," I said, trying to keep my voice level, "I'm not here to coddle you. I'm here to get you back on the ice."
Chase's eyes flashed with anger. "You think I don't know that? You think I'm not trying?"
"Honestly?" I shot back, my patience wearing thin. "I don't think you are. I think you're scared."
The words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, I thought I'd gone too far. Chase's face contorted, a mix of rage and something else, something that looked suspiciously like fear.
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," he snarled, swinging his legs off the table. "I'm out of here."
But as he tried to stand, his knee buckled. I lunged forward, catching him before he could fall. For a second, we stood frozen, his warm body pressed against mine, his ragged breath in my ear.
"Let go of me," he muttered, but there was less heat in his voice now.
I stepped back, giving him space, but stayed close enough to catch him if he fell again. "Chase," I said softly, "talk to me. What's really going on here?"
He slumped back onto the table, running a hand through his hair. The gesture was so vulnerable, so unlike the tough guy act he'd been putting on, that it made my heart ache.
"You want to know what's going on?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm terrified. Every damn day, I wake up and I wonder if this is it. If this is the day I have to admit that my career is over."
The admission hung in the air between us, raw and real. I took a deep breath, choosing my next words carefully.
"Chase," I said, pulling up a chair to sit across from him, "I can't promise you that you'll play again. But I can promise you that if there's a way to get you back on that ice, we'll find it together."
He looked up at me then, his blue eyes searching my face for any sign of insincerity. "Why do you even care?" he asked, his voice gruff. "I'm just another patient to you."
I shook my head, surprising myself with the intensity of my response. "You're not just another patient, Chase. You're a man who's facing the possibility of losing something he loves. And I care because that's my job, yes, but also because I've seen what you can do when you put your mind to it."
Something shifted in his expression then, a softening around the eyes, a slight relaxation of his jaw. "You've been watching my games?"
I felt a blush creep up my neck. "I may have done some research," I admitted. "You're pretty impressive when you're not being a stubborn ass."
That drew a chuckle from him, a sound so unexpected it made me smile. "Yeah, well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I've been told that's part of my charm."
"Charm might be pushing it," I teased, feeling the tension in the room dissipate. "Now, are you ready to actually work, or do you need another minute to brood?"
Chase rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Alright, alright. What've you got for me, Doc?"
We spent the next hour working through a series of exercises, each one carefully designed to challenge Chase without pushing him too far. And for the first time since we'd started working together, he didn't fight me at every turn. He listened, he asked questions, and when something hurt, he told me instead of trying to push through it.
By the time we finished, we were both sweating, but there was a sense of accomplishment in the air that hadn't been there before.
"Not bad, Callahan," I said, helping him off the table. "You might just make it back to the ice after all."
He gave me a look that was part gratitude, part challenge. "Yeah, well, don't get too excited. I'm still a long way from game-ready."
"Baby steps," I reminded him. "Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither was Chase Callahan's comeback."
He snorted at that, but I could see the ghost of a smile on his face. "Whatever you say, Doc. Same time Friday?"
I nodded, trying to ignore the little flutter in my chest at the thought of seeing him again. "I'll be here. Try not to pick any fights with the equipment before then, okay?"
Chase rolled his eyes as he headed for the door, but there was no real annoyance behind it. "No promises," he called over his shoulder .
As the door closed behind him, I let out a long breath, collapsing into my chair. What the hell had just happened? One minute we were at each other's throats, and the next... well, I wasn't sure what that was, but it felt like progress.
I spent the next hour writing up my notes on the session, trying to keep things professional and objective. The memory of Chase's vulnerability, the way his eyes had searched mine for understanding, stuck with me. It was a side of him I hadn't expected to see, and it stirred something in me that went beyond professional interest.
By the time I left the clinic, the sun had long since set as the city came alive with its nighttime energy. I should have been exhausted, but my mind was buzzing with thoughts of the session, replaying every word, every look.
Back at my apartment, I kicked off my shoes and headed straight for the shower, letting the hot water wash away the physical tension of the day. But as I stood there, eyes closed under the spray, I remembered Chase's face when he'd admitted his fears.
Wrapped in my favorite fluffy robe, I padded into the living room, laptop in hand. I told myself I was just doing some follow-up research, but deep down, I knew there was more to it than that.
I spent the next hour scrolling through highlight reels of Chase's career, watching him fly across the ice with a grace that seemed at odds with his imposing physical presence. I read articles about his rise from a small-town kid to NHL superstar, about the charity work he did in the off-season, about the fierce loyalty he inspired in his teammates.
The more I learned, the more I realized how little I actually knew about Chase Callahan. The man I'd been working with was just a fraction of who he really was, a shadow cast by pain and fear.
As I closed my laptop, a yawn overtaking me, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. There was a softness in my expression that hadn't been there before, a warmth in my eyes that made me pause.
"Oh no," I muttered. "Don't even think about it, Trinity."
But it was too late. The realization hit me like a truck, leaving me breathless. I cared about Chase. Not just as a patient, not just as a challenge to overcome, but as a person. A complicated, frustrating, fascinating person who was worming his way past my professional boundaries with alarming speed.
I flopped onto my bed, burying my face in my pillow with a groan. This was not good. In fact, this was the opposite of good. This was a potential career-ending disaster waiting to happen.
But even as I tried to talk myself out of it, to remind myself of all the reasons this was a terrible idea, I couldn't shake the warmth that spread through my chest at the thought of seeing Chase again.
"You're in trouble, Owen," I muttered into my pillow. "Big, big trouble."
Sleep was a long time coming that night, my dreams filled with ice rinks and blue eyes and the distant sound of a crowd cheering. When my alarm went off the next morning, I felt like I'd barely closed my eyes.
As I got ready for work, I tried to give myself a stern talking-to. Chase was my patient. Nothing more. I was here to help him recover, not to... whatever this was. I needed to maintain professional boundaries, to keep things strictly business.
But as I grabbed my bag and headed out the door, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of our next session. Whatever was happening between us, whatever line we were dancing around, I knew one thing for sure: things with Chase Callahan were about to get a lot more complicated.
The clinic was already bustling when I arrived, the waiting room filled with a mix of professional athletes and weekend warriors. I nodded to the receptionist as I made my way to my office, my mind already racing with plans for the day ahead.
As I settled in at my desk, my eyes fell on Chase's file. I flipped it open, studying the notes from our last session. On paper, it looked like straightforward progress. Improved range of motion, increased strength, better stability. But it didn't capture the emotional breakthrough we'd had when Chase had finally let his guard down.
A knock at my door startled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Dr. Frost standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable.
"Ms. Owen," she said, her tone clipped. "A word, please."
My stomach dropped. Had she somehow found out about my growing feelings for Chase? Was I about to be fired before I'd even screwed things up properly?
I followed her into her office, my heart pounding. Dr. Frost settled behind her desk, fixing me with a steely gaze.
"I've been reviewing your progress with Mr. Callahan," she said, and I held my breath, waiting for the ax to fall. "I must say, I'm impressed."
I blinked, not sure I'd heard her correctly. "I'm sorry?"
Dr. Frost's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "You've made more progress with him in a week than our previous therapists did in a month. Whatever you're doing, it seems to be working."
Relief washed over me, followed by a surge of pride. "Thank you, Dr. Frost. Chase is challenging, but I think we're starting to find our rhythm."
She nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Just remember, Ms. Owen, that while building rapport with patients is important, we must always maintain professional boundaries. Mr. Callahan is a high-profile case, and we can't afford any complications."
The heat rose to my cheeks, wondering if my feelings were that transparent. "Of course, Dr. Frost. I understand completely."
She dismissed me with a wave, and I hurried back to my office, my mind reeling. On one hand, I was thrilled that my work with Chase was being recognized. Dr. Frost's warning about professional boundaries hit a little too close to home.
As I prepared for my first patient of the day, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking a dangerous line. Chase Callahan was more than just a patient to me now. And that realization both thrilled and terrified me.
The day passed in a blur of patients and paperwork, but my mind kept drifting back to Chase. What was he doing right now? Was he following the at-home exercises I'd given him? Was he thinking about our last session as much as I was?
By the time my last patient left, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. I should have been heading home, but I lingered in my office, scrolling through my phone.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled up Chase's number and typed out a quick message.
Hope you're icing that knee. Don't forget about those visualization exercises we talked about. See you tomorrow!
I hit send before I could overthink it, telling myself it was purely a professional concern. But the little thrill I felt when I saw the typing bubbles appear told a different story.
Chase's reply came a moment later. Yes, Mom. Knee is iced. Visualizations are weird. But I'm trying.
I couldn't help but smile at his response. It was so typical Chase, a mix of sarcasm and grudging cooperation .
Weird is good. Means your brain is working in new ways. Keep it up.
There was a longer pause this time before Chase replied. Thanks, Trinity. For everything.
Those four words hit me like a punch to the gut. They were so simple, so sincere, so unlike the gruff, defensive Chase I'd first met. And they made me realize just how deep in over my head I really was.
I stared at my phone for a long moment, debating how to respond. In the end, I settled for a simple, Anytime. That's what I'm here for.
But even as I sent it, I knew it wasn't entirely true. Because what I was feeling for Chase went far beyond my professional obligations. And as I finally packed up my things and headed home, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was standing on the edge of something big, something that could either make or break both of our futures.
As I walked to my car, the cool evening air nipping at my cheeks, I made a decision. Tomorrow's session with Chase would be strictly professional. No more lingering touches, no more charged silences. I needed to get my head straight before I did something we'd both regret.
But even as I made this promise to myself, a small part of me whispered it might already be too late. That Chase Callahan had already worked his way under my skin in a way that no amount of professional distance could undo.
I climbed into my car, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I caught sight of myself in the rearview mirror. The woman looking back at me seemed different somehow, her eyes bright with a mix of excitement and trepidation.
"What are you getting yourself into, Trinity?" I muttered to myself.
But deep down, I already knew the answer. I was falling for Chase Callahan, hard and fast. And no amount of professional ethics or self-talk was going to change that.