Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
C hase
I gritted my teeth, sweat beading on my forehead as I pushed through the final rep. Trinity stood nearby, her eyes fixed on my form, ready to step in if I faltered. But I didn't. I couldn't. Not when I was this close.
"And... done!" Trinity's voice rang out, a mix of excitement and professional satisfaction. "Chase, that was incredible. You've just doubled your reps from last week."
I collapsed back onto the treatment table, my chest heaving. Every muscle in my body screamed, but for the first time in months, it was a good pain. The kind that meant progress.
"Yeah, well," I panted, trying to downplay my excitement, "your crazy methods must be working or something."
Trinity's face lit up with a smile that made my stomach do a weird flip. "Or something? Come on, Callahan. Admit it. You're impressed with yourself."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright, alright. Maybe I am. A little."
She tossed me a towel, which I caught with ease. Another small victory. My coordination was coming back, slowly but surely .
"You should be," Trinity said, making notes in my file. "You've made incredible progress. In fact..." She paused, building suspense like some cheesy game show host. "I think it's time we talked about getting you back on the ice."
My heart skipped a beat. "Seriously? You think I'm ready?"
Trinity held up a hand, tempering my excitement. "For some light skating, yes. No contact, no sudden movements. But I think it's time to start reacquainting your body with the feel of the ice."
I sat up, ignoring the protest from my tired muscles. "When?"
"How about now?" Trinity suggested, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I may have already cleared it with Dr. Frost and booked some ice time."
For a moment, I just stared at her, speechless. This woman, who I'd initially dismissed as just another perky therapist, had become... well, I wasn't sure what she'd become. But she'd believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself.
"Trinity, I..." I started, not sure how to express what I was feeling. "Thank you."
She waved off my gratitude, but I could see a faint blush creeping up her neck. "Don't thank me yet. You've still got a long way to go. But this is a big step, Chase. You should be proud."
Twenty minutes later, we were at the rink. I stood at the edge of the ice, my heart pounding. It had been months since I'd been here, months since I'd felt the chill of the arena, smelled the unique mix of ice and sweat and anticipation.
"You okay?" Trinity asked, her voice soft.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. With shaking hands, I laced up my skates. They felt both familiar and foreign, like reuniting with an old friend after years apart .
"Remember," Trinity said as I stepped onto the ice, "take it slow. This isn't about speed or skill. It's about reconnecting with the ice, with your body."
I nodded again, taking a deep breath. And then, with Trinity watching closely, I pushed off.
The first few strokes were wobbly, uncertain. But then muscle memory kicked in. I felt my body relax, falling into the familiar rhythm of glide and push. It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't fast, but I was skating.
I did a slow lap around the rink, focusing on my form, on the feel of the ice beneath my blades. When I came back around to where Trinity was standing, I couldn't keep the grin off my face.
"How does it feel?" she asked, her own smile mirroring mine.
"Like coming home," I admitted, surprised by the emotion in my voice.
We spent the next hour on the ice, Trinity guiding me through a series of gentle exercises designed to test my knee without straining it. By the end, exhaustion and exhilaration overwhelmed me.
As I unlaced my skates, I caught sight of the team filing in for practice. For a moment, I felt a pang of jealousy and frustration. They were here to train, to prepare for the season, while I was still struggling with basic drills.
But then I saw Mike, my longtime linemate, break away from the group and head towards us.
"Holy shit, Callahan!" he called out, his face split in a wide grin. "You're back on the ice!"
I stood up, bracing myself for the bear hug I knew was coming. Mike didn't disappoint, nearly lifting me off my feet.
"Easy, big guy," I laughed, wincing slightly. "I'm not quite ready for checking practice yet."
Mike stepped back, his eyes darting between me and Trinity. "Man, you look good. I mean, you look like you're doing better. Happier."
A flush crept up my neck, acutely aware of Trinity standing nearby. "Yeah, well, turns out all that physical therapy mumbo-jumbo actually works."
Mike's grin widened, and he gave me a knowing look that made me want to shove him into the nearest snowbank. "Uh-huh. I'm sure the therapy is the only thing making you smile like that."
Before I could come up with a suitably scathing response, Coach's whistle blew, calling the team to order.
"Shit, I gotta go," Mike said, already backing away. "But hey, it's good to see you, man. Really good."
As he skated off to join the team, I turned back to Trinity, suddenly feeling awkward. "So, uh, thanks for today. It was... it meant a lot."
Trinity smiled, and I felt that weird flip in my stomach again. "You did all the hard work, Chase. I'm just here to guide you."
We walked out of the rink together, a comfortable silence falling between us. As we reached the parking lot, I found myself reluctant to leave.
"Same time Friday?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
Trinity nodded, her eyes meeting mine. "Wouldn't miss it. Keep up with your exercises, okay? And remember, visualizations-"
"Are weird but important," I finished for her, rolling my eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah, yeah, I got it."
She laughed, the sound making me smile despite myself. "Good. See you Friday, Chase."
As I watched her drive away, I realized I was already looking forward to our next session. And not just because of the therapy.
"Get a grip, Callahan," I muttered to myself as I climbed into my car. But even I knew it was too late. Trinity Owen had somehow worked her way past all my defenses, and I wasn't sure I wanted to put them back up.
The drive home was a blur, my mind replaying every moment of the day. The triumph of doubling my reps, the exhilaration of being back on the ice, the warmth of Trinity's smile.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. This was dangerous territory. Trinity was my physical therapist, nothing more. She was just doing her job, helping me recover. Any feelings beyond that were just... what? Gratitude? Admiration for her skills?
But deep down, I knew it was more than that. The way my heart raced when she was near, the way I looked forward to our sessions more than anything else in my week. It was something I hadn't felt in a long time, something I'd thought I'd never feel again.
As I pulled into my parking spot, my phone buzzed with a text. It was from Trinity.
"Great work today, Chase. You should be proud of yourself. Don't forget to ice that knee!"
I stared at the message, a stupid grin spreading across my face. It was just a simple text, professional and to the point. But it made me feel like I could take on the world.
I typed out a quick reply: Thanks. Couldn't have done it without you. Knee is already on ice duty.
As I hit send, I realized how true those words were. Trinity had become more than just my physical therapist. She'd become my cheerleader, my motivator, the voice in my head pushing me to do better, be better.
I made my way up to my apartment, my body aching, but in the best way possible. As I settled onto the couch with an ice pack on my knee, my mind drifted back to the rink. The feel of the ice beneath my skates, the familiar chill in the air, the sound of blades cutting through fresh ice. It felt like coming home .
But there was something else, too. A new feeling, one that had nothing to do with hockey and everything to do with the woman who had made it all possible.
I closed my eyes, letting myself imagine what it would be like to ask Trinity out. To see her outside of the clinic, away from the professional setting that kept us at arm's length. To make her laugh, to see that spark in her eyes directed at me, not as a patient but as a man.
But as quickly as the fantasy formed, reality came crashing back. Trinity was my physical therapist. There were rules, boundaries. And even if there weren't, who was to say she felt the same way? For all I knew, she was just great at her job, making all her patients feel special and motivated.
I groaned, running a hand over my face. "You're in trouble, Callahan," I muttered to myself. "Big, big trouble."
But even as I tried to talk myself out of it, I couldn't shake the warmth that spread through my chest at the thought of seeing Trinity again. Friday suddenly seemed very far away.
The next morning, I woke up feeling better than I had in months. The ache in my muscles was a reminder of yesterday's progress, and for once, I didn't dread getting out of bed.
As I went through my morning routine, I hummed, a stupid grin plastered on my face. It wasn't until I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror I realized how different I looked. The dark circles under my eyes were less pronounced, and there was a light in my eyes that had been missing for far too long.
"Get it together, man," I told my reflection, trying to school my features into something less giddy. But it was no use. I felt good, damn good, and it showed.
I headed to the gym, determined to keep up the momentum from yesterday. As I walked in, I nodded to a few familiar faces, surprised by how many people greeted me warmly. Had I really been that much of an asshole these past few months?
Halfway through my workout, Mike showed up, his eyebrows shooting up when he saw me.
"Well, well, well," he said, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. "Look who's up with the birds. You feeling okay, Callahan? You're not usually conscious before noon."
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't keep the smile off my face. "Fuck off, Roberts. Some of us actually take our recovery seriously."
Mike's grin widened. "Oh, I bet you do. Especially when your physical therapist looks like that."
I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and I turned away, pretending to adjust the weight on the machine. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Mike laughed, clapping me on the shoulder. "Sure you don't, buddy. But seriously, it's good to see you like this. You've been in a funk for months. Whatever's going on, or whoever's responsible, I'm glad."
I wanted to deny it, to brush off his comments with a sarcastic remark. But I couldn't. Because he was right. I felt different, better. And a big part of that was because of Trinity.
"Yeah, well," I mumbled, still not meeting his eyes, "turns out there might be something to this whole positive thinking bullshit after all."
Mike's laughter echoed through the gym. "Holy shit, who are you and what have you done with Chase Callahan?"
I flipped him off, but there was no heat behind it. As annoying as he was, it felt good to joke around with Mike again, to feel like part of the team even if I wasn't on the ice with them yet.
As we finished our workouts, Mike turned to me, his expression suddenly serious. "Hey, Chase. I meant what I said yesterday. It's really good to see you doing better. The team... it hasn't been the same without you."
I swallowed hard, caught off guard by the emotion in his voice. "Thanks, man. I'm working on it. I'll be back before you know it."
Mike nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I know you will. Just don't push too hard, okay? And maybe, you know, listen to that pretty therapist of yours."
I shoved him playfully, but his words stuck with me as I headed home. Listen to Trinity. It was what I'd been doing, and look how far I'd come already.
Back at my apartment, I pulled out my phone, my thumb hovering over Trinity's number. It was stupid. We didn't have a session today. There was no reason to contact her.
But before I could talk myself out of it, I typed out a quick message: Just finished a solid workout. Knee feels good. Thanks again for yesterday.
I hit send before I could overthink it, telling myself it was just a professional update. But the little thrill I felt when I saw the typing bubbles appear told a different story.
Trinity's reply came a moment later. Great job, Chase! Keep it up. Remember to stretch and ice. Looking forward to seeing your progress on Friday.
I stared at the message, reading it over and over. It was perfectly professional, exactly what you'd expect from a physical therapist to her patient. So why did it make my heart race?
As I settled onto the couch with an ice pack on my knee, I couldn't shake the image of Trinity's smile, the way her eyes lit up when I made progress. I wondered what she was doing right now, if she was thinking about our session yesterday as much as I was .
"You're in deep, Callahan," I muttered to myself, closing my eyes.
But even as I tried to push thoughts of Trinity out of my mind, I couldn't help but look forward to Friday. To see her again, to show her how hard I'd been working, to maybe, just maybe, seeing that proud smile directed at me once more.
As I drifted off for a nap, I dreamt of ice rinks, warm brown eyes, and the distant sound of skates cutting through fresh ice.