Chapter 2
“How are you feeling today, Nick?”
“Ready to get back to practice.”
“Well, if you screw up your shoulder anymore, it’s going to be hard to do that.”
“It’s not as stiff now,” he tells me, rotating it like it’s nothing.
I wave my hands to stop him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“I think I’m making good progress, am I not?” Nick hops up onto the exam table in front of me. He’s wearing a tight, sleeveless Black Diamonds tank and athletic shorts. He’s been more limited in practice since dislocating his shoulder during a game.
“You took a nasty hit, Nick. Let us do our thing.”
“I’m antsy.” As if to prove his point, he shifts on the table.
“Our backup is doing a good job.”
“I still feel like it’s my fault for every loss we take.”
I roll my eyes as I grab the cuffs to start therapy with him. “Spoken like a true hockey player.”
“Every shot that goes in is my fault.”
Hockey players are so damn stubborn. I should be used to it since my older brother is also on the team—how I landed this internship—but the egos never cease to amaze me.
“You could say it’s the defensemen’s fault for not blocking them or blame the forwards for letting the puck get away from them.”
Nick returns my eye roll with one of his own. “I get it.”
“I could even go so far as to say it’s the opposing team’s goalie for blocking your shot.”
“Ha ha.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm.
“Now, are you ready to get started?”
The training room is quiet with practice not starting yet, and a few players in early to hit the ice. Nick hasn’t been on the ice for a few weeks. With the way he landed on his shoulder blocking a hit against Chicago, it did more damage than expected.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
I attach the cuffs to his upper arms to help limit the blood flow to start the exercise. It’s relatively new. Something that my professor in school taught us as part of a new study on restricting blood flow to help athletes heal and recover faster than with traditional therapies.
This is the first time I’ve been able to see it in action. I love being able to see something I’ve learned about working in real life.
My professor who was in on the study said it was revolutionary for athletes. And with a boss who is willing to try new methods, I got to take the lead with Nick’s therapy under her guidance.
“Ten reps then take a break.”
“I can do more.”
“Ten reps only, Nick.”
“Fine.”
“Slow and steady. I don’t want you overdoing it. If you want to hit the ice today for practice, take it easy.”
“Really?” he asks, a hopeful look in his eye.
“As long as you don’t overdo it, Claire said you’re good to head back onto the ice.”
I take a step back from him, watching his movements as he goes. It all looks good on my end. I love seeing that something I learned can help someone recover from an injury.
Especially a professional athlete.
Nick finishes his set, and I take the five-pound weights from him.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good. Does that mean I can get back out there?”
“You’re lucky Claire said you could, because your sweet-talking wouldn’t work on me. You forget, I’ve known you since we were babies.”
Growing up, our dads were best friends. Having played for the Mountain Lions together, they all retired and stayed in Denver. Naturally, all of their kids became friends.
Nick is one of my closest friends since I’m only a few months older than he is. I’m lucky that I get to watch him play. He is easily one of the best goalies in the league, and the Black Diamonds know it.
Even though our backup is good, we’ve been feeling the loss of Nick with close games and easy goals that have slipped by.
“If only I was your type.”
“No one you’re seeing right now?” I ask, handing him the weights. A weird look washes over his usually stoic features.
“Not right now, no.”
“You sure about that?”
“Drop it, Piper.”
“Alright.” I throw my hands up in defense. “Now, another set of ten then we’re moving on to another exercise.”
“Damn. You aren’t taking it easy on me.”
“Nope. You’ll thank me for it when you’re back on the ice.”
“Will I?” he asks, laughing as he finishes his last rep.
The assistant coach walks in at that moment, eyeing everyone in the room. A few more players have drifted in since I started working on Nick. He casts a cursory glance over me and Nick before heading straight to my boss, Claire.
“What do you think that’s about?” I ask, nodding at the two of them.
“Beats the hell out of me.”
When he turns toward us with a grimace on his face, I know it can’t be good.
“Are you the one in charge of Nick’s rehab?”
I nod, crossing my arms over my chest.
“And what is it that you’re doing with him?”
“What do you mean, what am I doing with him?”
There’s an edge to his tone that I don’t like.
“Coach Cooper, what are you accusing her of?” Claire asks. She’s an older woman with graying hair who’s been with the team longer than I’ve been alive. She knows what she’s doing and wouldn’t let just anyone help with rehab of the team.
Claire doesn’t mess around, and I love that she takes chances on younger women in the field. Especially in athletics, where it’s a male-dominated field.
“Does she know what she’s doing with Nick here?” He waves a hand in front of Nick like I’ve asked him to dress as Santa Claus instead of doing a new, fully-vetted type of therapy to help his shoulder. “Is this so-called ‘therapy’ sanctioned by the team?”
The use of air quotes has ire burning through my veins. Typical of a man in a power position not thinking I know anything.
“I—”
“She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t,” Claire comes to my defense. It prevents me from saying something I know I shouldn’t. “It’s a safe and effective exercise to help get Nick back onto the ice faster than traditional therapies.”
“You’re not going to take my goalie out for the rest of the season, are you?” He addresses my boss instead of me like I don’t even exist.
I don’t even know why I bother sometimes. People take one look at me with my blonde hair and think there’s nothing in my head. That I’m a bimbo or a dumb blonde.
It’s the furthest thing from the truth.
And I hate it.
“With this technique, he’ll get on the ice faster than expected. Piper is working well with Nick to get him back where he needs to be.”
“Under whose supervision?” He crosses his arms, like he doesn’t believe either of us.
Claire bristles at his words. “Mine. We wouldn’t be doing this if it would hurt the players.”
“Coach, I’m fine,” Nick pipes up from his spot on the bench. “Really.”
“I’ll stop by tomorrow to make sure things are still going well.”
He disappears without another word.
“Don’t let him get to you, Piper. You’ve been doing good work here.”
“Sure.” I nod at her as she goes to help out another one of the players who took a vicious hit on the ice last night.
“Everything okay?” Nick asks when I make my way back to him.
“Fine,” I bite out.
He continues through the slow movements of his exercise. Ones that have been vetted by everyone in the industry as cutting edge for athletes.
But it’s supposedly me who doesn’t know what she’s doing. I’ve been studying and learning for years to do this. It hurts more than I’ll ever let anyone around me know.
No one takes me seriously. They never have.
It stings more than it should when it’s someone within the Black Diamonds organization that thinks that. I’ve more than proven myself to the team.
“You need me to keep going?” Nick asks.
“Let’s take a break. Hit the treadmill for some cardio.”
“Don’t let them bother you,” he tells me, hopping off the table with ease.
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“I know you better than that, Piper. It was a dick move.”
I laugh. “He’s your assistant coach.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“I’m fine, really.”
“Whatever you say.”
He leaves me be as I go to straighten the pile of clean towels in the corner. I don’t know why, but having something to do with my hands helps to soothe away the sting of emotions.
I hate that the coach’s words bother me. It’s not the first time I’ve heard them and it won’t be the last. People have been underestimating me my entire life.
I’m more than just a pretty face. It’s just…no one can see past it.
“Can I get a towel?” a deep voice rumbles from behind me.
“What?” I jump, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest. Cash is standing behind me, hands sitting on his hips.
Sweat has his shirt clinging to every muscle. It leaves very little to the imagination. Dark patterns of ink swirl on his arms. Black hair falls in front of his even blacker eyes. Light brown flecks flicker there.
Everything about Cash Williams is dark and closed off. Him talking to me startles me.
“You’re muttering to yourself over here.”
“I was not.”
I actually have no clue if I was. It tends to happen when I’m mad.
“Sure.” A slow smile plays on his lips. “Can I?”
He indicates to the pile of towels behind me. “Oh, sorry.”
“Thanks.”
I try to keep my eyes off him as he brushes past me. I feel his heat from his workout. He spends his morning in the training room with another trainer before hitting the ice.
Why I know his schedule, I don’t know.
But it’s hard not to notice Cash. The brooding looks pull me in. He’s the complete opposite of Duncan.
After the way things ended with Duncan a few weeks ago, the last thing I need is to start another relationship.
With one of his teammates no less.
“Have a good practice. Don’t overdo it.”
God, could I sound any lamer? It’s something I’d say to any one of the guys if they were in here, but saying it to Cash? It makes me sound like the dumb blonde everyone thinks I am.
Cash doesn’t respond or look at me as he leaves the room. I blow out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Why are nerves overtaking me at one hockey player looking at me?
He is not in my plans. I need to push past it. Ignore Cash Williams and the fluttery feelings in my stomach. It’s not like he sees me anyway.
My focus needs to be on the other hockey players. The ones that don’t distract me.
Not Cash Williams.
Because nothing good can come of having a crush on him.
Nothing good at all.