Chapter 3
three
. . .
Amelia
My head spins as Derek, my new boss, takes me on a tour of the training facility.
So far, the Boston Grizzlies’ layout doesn’t look all that different from the Colorado Dragons’ lair I recently left.
Hallways are different, the suite of exam rooms is on a different offshoot from the main dressing room, but for the most part, once you’ve been in the bowels of a few training facilities, they all start to look alike.
We make our way through the dressing room and down another hallway before entering a bright, airy lounge. There are floor-to-ceiling windows illuminating the space, a selection of couches and armchairs, a ping-pong table, assorted tables and chairs, and three refrigerators.
“This is where the players hang out most,” Derek says, sweeping his arm wide. “You can take breaks in here if you’d like, but the food is reserved for the players.”
“Got it.” I didn’t expect them to feed me. All I need is a place to fill up my water bottle and a place to store my lunch bag, and I’m good.
There are a few players in the lounge. They look over at us with interest.
The guy on the left is a bearded, burly beast of a man.
He nods, his eyes doing little to disguise his curiosity.
The man beside him, dark-skinned with a short beard and kind eyes, glances at me and immediately returns to peeling an orange.
The redhead cocks his head, studying me for a second, before he shakes his head and then returns to their conversation.
But it’s the man in the center of the lounge who catches my attention.
He’s tall, maybe the tallest in the room. His light brown hair looks soft, and his short scruff highlights his square jaw. His eyes, though—they’re wide, unblinking, and he’s staring at me with horror on his face.
What’s his deal?
Blinking a few times, I focus on Derek again.
“This is Amelia. She’s joining our team as a physical therapist,” my boss says. “Please help her feel welcome with us.”
“Nice to meet you,” the redhead says. “I’m MacGregor.”
“Forward,” I reply.
His face scrunches. “I’m not making a pass at you. I’m—”
“You’re a forward. That’s the position you play.” I roll my lips inward to hide my smile. “You’re primarily a center, right? Though sometimes you play on the left wing. Never the right.”
Chin hitching up, he stares at me through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”
“I have a dossier on each player. And you have a history of left ankle issues.” Cocking my head, I study him. He’s a ball of tightly coiled tension. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure we’re keeping you in excellent shape.”
MacGregor nods tightly.
The dark-skinned man beside him laughs. “I’m Logan.”
“Defenseman. Paired with Pope last season.” He signed with Washington during the free agency period.
“And good riddance,” MacGregor mutters.
My eyebrows go up.
“We’ve got a good group of guys this season,” Logan says. “We shouldn’t have any more issues.”
“Right. Well, we’ll make sure your hip is taken care of.”
“Shit, how do you do that?” The bearded, burly guy says in wonder. “I’m Gonzales. Most guys call me—”
“Gonzo,” I finish.
“Yeah. Did you memorize the files or something?”
Shrugging, I try to downplay it. “I studied.”
It’s not like I’ve been able to do much else.
My seven-week-old niece, Ainsley, is adorable, but she only sleeps if someone holds her.
I’ve spent a lot of time with her strapped to my chest as I vacuum or wash dishes or study.
Noise doesn’t bother her, thank goodness, but as soon as I stop moving, she starts shrieking.
Was I planning on moving cross-country, living with my brother and his husband, and starting a new job seven weeks after giving birth? No. Am I going to make the most of it? Absolutely.
I look over at the last man. There’s something familiar about him, but I’ve already looked over the roster, and there aren’t any players who were part of the Dragons or the Austin organizations.
I was lucky to intern with the Austin Aces while I finished up my DPT degree, and after two and a half seasons with Colorado, I was ready to move on. Luckily, the Grizzlies were hiring, and one of my brother’s exes works for the team, so I networked my way into an interview.
I earned this job on my own fucking merit, though, and I won’t let anyone tell me otherwise.
Sports in general, and hockey in particular, are a good ol’ boys’ club, and it all comes down to who you know.
I won’t stand for anyone insinuating I didn’t get this job fair and square, simply because Robby put in a reference for me.
Speaking of… The assistant equipment manager enters the lounge, a bright smile stretching his face. His dark blond hair is styled away from his eyes, highlighting his strong features. He’s always been attractive; I can see why my brother fell for him all those years ago.
“Hey, Meels.” He squeezes my shoulder. “So glad to have you here.”
“Thanks, Robby. Happy to be here.”
The last man in the room—the one who stared at me with the horror on his face—scoffs. Now, he looks between me and Robby with undisguised interest.
“You all better be on your best behavior for Amelia,” Robby says sternly. “Or I’ll make sure your blades are extra dull.”
I glare at him. “You don’t need to threaten them. I’m sure they’ll learn I’m scary enough on my own. And they don’t need dull blades. That’s a surefire way for them to wind up on my exam table.”
He laughs. “Yes, ma’am.” He nods at the unnamed man. “McKittrick, do you have some time to review the work orders?”
Jason McKittrick. The team captain. He’s thirty-seven and nursing more injuries than anyone else on the team. Name a body part and he’s probably tweaked it. That’s what happens when a guy competes at the highest level of the sport for nearly twenty years, plus a lifetime of hockey before that.
McKittrick’s eyes hold no warmth as he glares at me. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He addresses Robby, though his eyes are locked on me. “I’m available.”
Derek clears his throat. “Right. Well, we should get on with the tour.”
We continue through the facility. I meet the administrative staff, the logistics team, the coach, and GM. There are players in the hallways, too—Seb Henry, one of the goaltenders, Adam Sinclair, a defenseman, and Parker Jenkins, a young forward in his second year with the organization.
Everyone is polite. Everyone treats me with respect. It’s the bare minimum, but it’s refreshing nonetheless.
Derek and I return to the medical wing, where we’ll spend most of our time.
There are three physical therapists on staff, plus him as the head athletic trainer.
We have a row of cubicles, where we can sit to enter notes and review treatment plans.
He has an actual office with a desk and a door.
Rounding out our space are the four private exam rooms, where we treat players before and after games.
Next door is the team doctor’s space, where Dr. Hudson can stitch the players back together, take x-rays, and start IVs when needed. There’s even a dental suite where Dr. Kerrigan does emergency dental work, if called upon.
I make it through my first day with little issue. There’s no game tonight, so I shadow Derek while he works on Larsson’s ankle and Sinclair’s wrist. He lets me take the lead on Reynolds’ shoulder, and we work together on Jenkins’ elbow.
At five o’clock, there’s a knock on the open door to the treatment room, where I’m organizing supplies.
“Hey, Meels,” Robby says. “How’s the first day?”
“Pretty good.” I’m respected and supported by Derek and the rest of the team. “You?”
“I’m great. Want to grab a drink?”
I pause. I should get home, relieve Tyler and Brandon, and let them have some much-needed time alone. On the other hand, it’s my night with Ainsley, and I need all the relaxation I can get before another sleepless night.
“Sure. Where’re we going?” I ask.
“There’s a pub nearby we like.” He takes my jacket off the hook by the door, holding it open for me.
“You don’t have to flatter me,” I tease. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”
Robby’s loud laugh catches the attention of some passing players. Including, I notice, McKittrick.
“Trust me, babe, you’re not my type.”
“I know your type,” I taunt back. “Still scarred by it, in fact.”
He dated my brother for a year and a half, but given how many times I walked in on them naked in the small apartment Ty and I shared in Austin… Suffice to say, I’ve seen enough of my brother’s bare ass.
Not that he and Brandon are any better at keeping their bedroom activities confined to the bedroom. I think it’s a fault of Tyler’s, and not necessarily his partners.
Never did I think I’d share an exhibitionism kink with my brother. Just the thought makes me gag.
“Come on,” Robby says, sliding his hand into mine. “I want to hear about everything you’ve been up to.”