Chapter 5 #2
He straightened but otherwise didn’t move, and she scooted to the side, her butt practically seated on the desk. One corner of his mouth curled upward. He reminded her of a cat who had just cornered a mouse. “I guess my recommending you for this job has really paid off, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, it has. Thank y-you again for suggesting my name.”
“Know how you can really thank me? You can grab that drink with me. This stuff will wait.”
Angie’s skin prickled with warning. “Actually, it won’t.
Coach is waiting for an update on one of the players.
And after that, I’m expected somewhere.” She moved a little farther away, trying to reclaim her personal bubble, but she revealed the screen in the process.
His eyes darted there. She slid back, searching for a way to minimize the screen without losing everything she’d just added to Sam’s file.
His gaze moved back to hers and locked on. “Expected where? For what?”
Angie fumbled, accidentally hitting a key, and her stomach plunged when the screen went blank.
“Miss Rossi?”
Angie and Trevor turned at the same instant toward Celia’s sharp bark. The woman stood in the opening between reception and therapy.
Angie wormed away from Trevor’s looming presence. “Yes, Celia?”
Celia came farther into the room, a sourpuss look on her face that she directed at Angie. “What do we have going on here?”
Angie slid Trevor a sidelong glance. “You know Trevor from the team’s training staff, right?
I believe he was interested in learning more about one of the players.
” Not exactly a lie, but Angie was concealing Trevor’s possible skulking.
If he saw any of the details about Sam’s treatment and reported those, Angie could lose …
everything. Then again, so could Trevor, and there was no guarantee that he’d read any of it.
Trevor shoved his hands into his front pockets. “Yeah, uh, Coach is anxious to read about his progress.”
Celia never took her eyes off Angie. “Well then, I suppose you’d better get to it.”
I would if he would leave me alone! And why did Angie get the feeling Celia saw her as the troublemaker in this scenario?
“Guess I’d better be moving along so you can take care of that report.” Trevor didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. He and his smirk turned and walked out of the PT department, with Celia’s gaze trailing him the entire way.
When he was gone, she turned that gaze back to Angie.
“You do understand we have a ‘no fraternizing’ rule here, yes?” Celia was the office manager slash receptionist. Nowhere near the top of the organizational chart, but she was well ensconced.
Angie had no doubt that Celia made sure all the rules were followed, and if she thought Angie might be breaking one, she wouldn’t hesitate to take it upstairs.
Angie crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, ma’am. I am completely aware. I can assure you I was not fraternizing.”
One of Celia’s eyes narrowed to a slit. “Mr. Durbin is the only player I know of that you’re treating at the moment. Did Trevor indicate he is working on Mr. Durbin’s case?”
Angie’s heart threw itself against her rib cage. “He didn’t say one way or the other.”
“But you are in the process of finishing up your report on Mr. Durbin?”
Angie dared a glimpse at her blank screen and swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll finish up before I leave.”
Celia hmphed. “I’ll lock up on my way out. Be sure you do the same when you’re done.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Angie wasn’t sure whether to submit her resignation right now or slump with relief.
After Celia left, Angie sat staring at her screen, recreating the narrative she’d lost when she’d hit the escape key.
Fingers hovering over the keyboard, she tussled with the same dilemma that had halted her the last time.
How much of her suspicions about Sam’s injury should she put into the record?
None. Just write your observations. Except her observations weren’t positive.
Then again, it was still too early to tell.
Not to mention if she was deemed to be violating privacy policies, none of what she wrote would matter because they’d can her ass and turn Sam’s treatment over to someone else who would record their own observations.
Angie sat back, her mind processing all the mistakes she’d made today.
One of those had been to give Sam hope she didn’t have the right to give.
She shouldn’t have done that, but he had looked so forlorn.
If anyone outside Sam’s world understood how important playing in the NHL was to him, that person was Angie.
At one time, she had lived it with him, breathed it with him, and survived the devastating toll his commitment had inflicted on her.
She might not like him, but her caring heart still beat beneath her resentment, and she hated to trample his dream of getting back before his season was done and dusted.
He had worked his entire life for this moment, and it was about to be snatched away through no fault of his own.
In the end, she finished up with details about the length of time he’d spent hooked up to the Game Ready machine and the exercises she’d put him through. When it came to the swelling, she answered honestly.
“No change.”