Chapter 30
thirty
. . .
Amelia
The lounge is devoid of players as my friends and I gather for lunch. We ordered in for a change, and as Joaquin, Patrice, Robby, Vanessa, and I catch up on our respective days, a sense of contentment washes over me.
Jason and I had our first big fight the other day. He apologized, but I can’t get it out of my mind. What if this is too much for him? What if I can’t navigate being his girlfriend instead of his physical therapist? I don’t want him to be my patient, but I can’t turn off that side of my brain.
“What’s wrong, babe?” Robby asks as he scoops some lo mein onto my plate.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I serve him some of the broccoli beef in front of me.
“You heaved the biggest sigh in the history of the world,” he says.
“I’m fine,” I mutter.
“You don’t seem fine,” Joaquin says.
Glaring at him isn’t as satisfying as I thought.
He innocently lifts his hands. “I’m just saying. You seem a little down.”
“For the last few days,” Patrice adds.
Swallowing my courage, I admit, “Had a fight with someone.”
“Ah, man troubles,” Robby says sagely. “Been there, done that.”
“Yeah, I don’t need to hear about your exploits with my brother.”
He laughs. “For once, I was talking about someone else. Come on, tell us all about him.”
I toy with the food on my plate. “It was only a fight.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been seeing him for months,” Patrice says. “Surely, you’ve fought before.”
Blinking at her, my face heats. “How did you know?”
“Because you walk around this place with your heart in your eyes,” Vanessa points out. “You’re always smiling at your phone. Whoever you’re seeing is good for you.”
“So,” Joaquin presses. “Who is he?”
I shove a giant bite of broccoli into my mouth, making an exaggerated show of chewing.
“Do we know him?” Robby tacks on.
I shake my head.
“How’d you meet? You’re always working,” Vanessa points out. “You take the most road trips of all three PTs.”
“I like to travel,” I mumble.
“Bullshit,” Patrice says. “Nobody likes this schedule.”
She, Joaquin, and Robby travel for every single road trip, whereas Vanessa and I both have a team who rotates on-call schedules.
Although, now that she’s eight months pregnant, she isn’t traveling anymore. Scott and Jacky have taken over the rotation.
The team plays at home tonight, but then we’re off on another away series. It’s the first time I’m on the road while Jason will stay at home. I already miss him, which is kind of ridiculous. It’s only a three-day trip.
But my friends won’t let it rest.
“When do we get to meet this guy?” Robby asks.
“Never.”
“How do we know he’s good enough for you?” Joaquin adds.
“You trust that I can make my own decisions and won’t tolerate someone disrespecting me,” I tell him, with a simple shrug. “I don’t see you asking any of the guys on the team if the women they’re seeing are good enough for them.”
Robby narrows his eyes. “We don’t have that type of relationship with the players.”
“Besides, it’s none of our business because they aren’t our friends. Not the way you are,” Joaquin says. “This guy is part of your life and he has been for a few months. He’s not a fling. He means something to you, so yeah, we want to meet him.”
I roll my eyes. “I already have two overprotective brothers. I don’t need any more.”
“Oh, honey,” Patrice says. “You think you have two? You have twenty-three guys on the team who would beat up anyone who looked at you funny. And that’s not including all of the staff.”
“No one will be beat up,” I say firmly.
“So, how’d you meet him, anyway?” Vanessa asks.
Shaking my head, I avoid the question. “Pass the soy sauce, please.”
“Amelia,” Robby says quietly. “Do we know him?”
My face heats, and I open my mouth to deny it.
But the lounge door swings open, and the place is flooded with smelly, sweaty hockey players, fresh from a yoga class.
“I’m done talking about this,” I tell them.
Gonzo and Sinclair approach with Larsson. The Swede ducks down to kiss his wife on the cheek, his palm rubbing her swollen belly. They snuck away to the courthouse a few weeks ago and made things official. He hasn’t stopped smiling since.
“Hey, Meels. Patty,” Gonzo says, ruffling my hair. Patrice glares at him, and he innocently lifts his hands. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch your hair.”
“Or mine,” I mutter, ruffling it back into place. It takes work to make the waves last longer than thirty minutes.
“Sorry, sorry,” Gonzo says. “It’s how we show love in our family.”
Robby raises his eyebrows, and Joaquin snorts.
“Well, I’m honored you consider me your family,” I start. Gonzo smirks. “But don’t touch my hair.”
“Let’s all keep our hands to ourselves,” Jason’s voice booms out.
The room falls silent as he crutches into the lounge.
“Do we need a reminder about the workplace sexual harassment policy?” he adds, glaring at Gonzo.
“Nope. We’re good,” the burly hockey player says, taking a step back from me. “Right, Amelia?”
“We’re great,” I say, with a forced smile.
Jason grunts, glaring at his assembled teammates. “That goes for all of you. I won’t tolerate harassment of any of our staff members. They are here to do a job, same as all of us. Don’t make their lives harder.”
“Yes, Captain,” a few players mumble.
MacGregor clears his throat. “How’s your leg?”
Jason sighs. “I’m out for the rest of the year.”
“Shit, man,” Logan says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”
“We’ll just have to win the Cup for you, then,” Easton says.
Jason forces a brittle, bitter smile. “Yes, you will.”
An awkward chuckle echoes throughout the room.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll still be here day in and day out with you,” he says firmly. “Nothing has to change.” His eyes fall to me, and then slip past to Robby, who’s staring at him with an inscrutable expression on his face. “Okay, back to lunch.”