Chapter 3 - June
June
“I am excited!” I insisted on the phone while sitting in traffic. “Why wouldn’t you think I’m excited?”
“Because you don’t want your father and me to come to the game,” my mom replied on the other end.
“It’s a six-hour drive. It’s not worth it.”
“You’re going to be on television! And you don’t think it’s worth it for your parents to come?”
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. My mother was an expert at guilt trips. But I’d become an expert at not letting it get to me.
“I’m not one of the players, Mom. I’m the physical trainer.”
“But you’ll be down there with the players! That’s what your father told me. Hold on, let me put him on…”
“Mom, you don’t need to—”
“Hi, sweetie,” my dad said. “I looked it up. The coaches and trainers sit on the bench with the players.”
“That’s right.”
“Then why don’t you want us to come to your first game?”
“Because I already have enough pressure on me. Besides, you’ll be able to see me better on TV than in person! In any case, it doesn’t matter now because the game is only a few hours away. I have to go. Love you guys.”
“Love you, sweetie. We’re so proud of you!”
I let out a long sigh after hanging up. My parents were overbearing, but I had to remind myself it was in the loving kind of way. They just wanted to support me in my new career.
Let’s get through my first game first, I told myself. Then I can start calling it a career.
Their excitement mirrored my own, though. This was the first game of the NHL season! I’d been a nervous wreck, unable to sleep last night and practically bouncing off the walls in my apartment all day.
I pulled up to the entrance of the employee parking lot. It was just like all the others surrounding the Atlanta Reapers’ stadium, except right next to the entrance. And I had to flash my badge to a security guard to be allowed in.
“Welcome, Ms. Wilder,” the guard said with a smile.
I kept it together until my window was rolled up, then I giggled to myself all the way inside.
“June,” Coach Jay greeted me when I passed by his office. “Clipboard is on the wall. Let me know if you have any questions.”
“Got it, Coach,” I replied. The clipboard contained a list of all the players that had lingering injuries and needed attention.
Five players were on the injured reserve list, which meant they were out.
Seven other players had lingering injuries that may or may not prevent them from playing tonight.
It was my job to accurately assess whether or not they should be cleared.
Over the next hour, players began trickling into the locker room. Those that were on the clipboard came to visit me. Aside from the guys on injured reserve, it was all minor stuff. Elbow tendinitis, a sore ankle, a strained oblique.
Rhett was one of the last to arrive. He walked into my office wearing a three-piece suit that made him look more like a financial advisor than an athlete.
“I feel great,” he said with a warm smile. “Shoulder hasn’t bothered me since the scrimmage.”
I still made him remove his jacket and go through a range of motions with his arm. Only when I was satisfied did I let him go.
Coach Jay popped into my office during warm-ups to see what I thought. I told him that I’d officially cleared everyone, however, the defenseman with the tender oblique should maybe get dropped down to third line for this game, just to be safe.
He nodded, then gestured. “Come on. You’re walking out with the coaching staff.”
The noise in the arena was deafening as the Atlanta Reapers starting line was announced. Then Coach Jay, his assistants, and I walked through the tunnel, which led directly to the home bench. It was freezing in here; I was glad that Andy had given me a long-sleeved black-and-red Reapers jacket.
I kept my expression stoic as I took my spot at the end of the bench next to the assistant coaches, but I was grinning on the inside.
It was loud in here as the fans prepared to cheer on their team.
The mood was electric. It was the start of a new season, which meant new expectations and hopes for the team.
But for me, I just wanted to get through this game.
The national anthems were played, and then the game began. I was shocked at how loud everything was down here; I was really close to the action, a fact that was emphasized when a Reapers player checked one of the Carolina Hurricanes players into the glass in front of me, shaking the bench.
Overall, from a trainer’s perspective, it was a boring game. I had to tend to a busted lip after a fight, but otherwise I didn’t have much to do. The Reapers looked sharp, scoring an early goal in the first period and another in the second. When the final buzzer sounded, we had won, 2-0.
The players were rowdy and excited back in the locker room, laughing and teasing each other. I smiled and watched them through my office window, feeling like I was a part of the win even though I hadn’t contributed in any meaningful way.
“Everyone’s a friend after a win,” Coach Jay stuck his head into my office to say. “It’s less fun around here after a loss.”
“Hopefully we don’t have too many of those.”
He pointed at me and said, “From your lips to God’s ears.”
After he left, another familiar face popped into my office. “Hey there, June,” Rhett said, cradling his shoulder. “I think I tweaked it out there.”
“Is that so?” I asked.
He nodded solemnly, but I could tell he was trying to hide a smile. “I think I need an hour or two of massaging. On my shoulder, my neck, my back…”
“Nice try,” I said, crossing my arms. “I saw you high-fiving and smacking asses a minute ago.”
He dropped the act and lowered his arm. “You were watching me smack my teammates’ asses, huh?”
“Lawson,” a new face barked from the doorway. It was Cole Thibault, the team captain. “Stop harassing the new trainer.”
“Whatever you say, captain.” Rhett left my office, but not before giving a hard smack onto his ass.
Cole winced in pain, and shifted his weight from one leg to another. It might’ve been nothing.
But it was my job to notice these things.
“You all right?” I asked.
Cole very deliberately adjusted his stance to act like he was fine. “Sure.”
I nodded at him. “Left knee? How long’s it been bugging you?”
He stared at me for a long moment. Long enough for me to take in the dirty blond hair that was cut short, and the deep brown eyes that seemed to see everything. He was still wearing his jersey and pads, but had already removed his skates.
Finally, he glanced over his shoulder, then lowered his voice. “Couple weeks. It’s nothing serious.”
“I’ll let you know if I agree.” I patted the examination table. “Up you go. Pants off.”
I looked away and pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves while he undressed. When I turned back, he was stripped down to his jock strap and compression pants, sitting on the edge of the table.
“I can shower first,” he offered.
I waved away his offer. “I was the athletic trainer at Georgia before this. A little sweat doesn’t bother me. We haven’t officially met, but I’m June.”
“Cole,” he replied.
Cole was silent as I examined him. I could hear his soft breathing while I took his leg in my hands and bent it up and down, putting it through a range of motions. He wasn’t supermodel-gorgeous the way Rhett was, but he had this rugged, calm sexiness that I was instantly attracted to.
But his knee? I recognized the signs of someone trying to push through the pain. Not surprising, since he was the captain. Even just being around him, I could sense the weight of pressure that was on his shoulders. The expectation of a whole team, and a whole city.
He answered my questions professionally. He didn’t try to flirt with me or resist.
“Minor patellar tendinitis,” I finally diagnosed. “I don’t think you’re at risk of injuring it further, but I’m going to put you on a rehab schedule to strengthen the muscles around it.”
He nodded. “Sorry for trying to hide it. My defense mechanism is to put my head down and work harder.”
“I get it. I’m the same way.” I removed my gloves. “Anyone else hiding an injury that I should be aware of?”
Cole looked out into the locker room. “Not to my knowledge.”
I followed his gaze, and noticed a big, bearded guy pulling an icepack off his ribs. “What about him? The viking-looking dude?”
“Eli?” Cole shook his head. “He’s our goalie. He doesn’t talk much, and he gets a murdery look in his eyes when people bother him. I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but you should probably leave Eli alone.”
“Thanks for the advice. I’ll send you the rehab schedule when I finish up here.”
“Appreciate it.” He gave me a respectful nod, then gathered his things and returned to the locker room.
At least there’s one guy on this team with a good head on his shoulders, I thought while typing up my notes into my computer. And of course he’s the captain.
While the team continued celebrating in the locker room next door, I finished up my work, happy to have gotten through the first game of the season.