17. I Want You to Warm Me Up
When I finally get insidethe arena for the morning practice, I want to run straight to the training room, but I force myself to take slow steps and smile at everyone I pass by. It”s just any other morning right? So I need to do what I do every time I come to work. That doesn”t include locking myself in a stall in the ladies’ room to dry heave and cry. Unfortunately.
It does include stopping to make small talk with Noah from maintenance when he calls my name. Last week, he invited me to a party he and his wife were hosting, but I made up some excuse why I couldn”t go. But now he wants to tell me all about it. I try to smile and nod at all the right moments, but the truth is, I have no idea what he”s saying. Every second I stand here in the hallway that leads to the training room—and to Coach”s office—my heart beats louder until it”s louder than any stadium I”ve ever been in.
Finally, he smiles and waves, and I know the conversation is over. I turn as quickly as I can. The hallway between me and the training room is empty. But past that, I see a very red-faced Brant walk out of Coach”s office. He doesn”t look up, and I don”t know what that means. I duck into the training room like being in here could offer some shelter.
”There”s my miracle worker!” Milo is sitting on a table, waiting for me. ”Look, no pain.” He sticks his arm out and rolls the hand around. He”s like a child showing off a toy, and I can”t help but smile.
”That”s great Milo. I told you that you would be back to one-hundred percent before you knew it.” In practice last week, Milo”s stick hand caught on a post, and he strained his wrist. I saw a lot worse with the baseball team in Denver, but it was still affecting him in the net. So after a quick x-ray to make sure it wasn’t broken, I made a treatment plan for him. Just simple steps to help it heal a little faster. Things anyone could have done.
”I want you to warm me up today.”
”Me?” I actually look around like a fool to make sure he”s speaking to me. I hope he”s not. I”m not a PT, so I don”t normally help with warm-ups unless a player is injured. Plus, warming him up would involve leaving this room. And that would involve seeing, and being seen by, everyone on the team. That”s the last thing I want when there could be a bounty on my head as far as I know. What if Brant”s face was red because he broke and told Coach the truth?
But Milo has a look I can”t say no to.
I lead him into a room just off the ice of the practice rink. The room the goalies use to warm up, and Brant is already here with a physical therapist.
I try to stay focused on Milo as I guide him through a set of warmup exercises, but it”s hard when my eyes can”t leave Brant. I just need one look. One little sign. But he doesn”t give me anything. He keeps his eyes glued to the physical therapist, no matter how much I silently will him to look at me instead of her.
When we”re finished, Milo insists I walk to the practice ice with him, like I”m some lucky charm. Brant is right in front of us. His head stays down, and he doesn”t make a sound. But as soon as his blade hits the ice, Coach yells at him. Not the usual yell. This is louder and meaner and contains so many curses that Milo looks worriedly at me and apologizes. I shrug him off. I”ve spent the last seven years of my life around athletes and coaches.
Until now, I thought I”d heard everything, but Coach screams a couple that are new to me, including one telling Brant to go do something with a dead cow that I don”t think makes any sense at all. But it doesn”t matter. The message is received. Brant skates to the far side of the ice and climbs into the penalty box.
Once Milo is in his net and gives me a giant thumbs up, I back into a recessed corner between the equipment room and the coaches” box. This spot isn”t as well lit as the rest of the practice rink, so I”m partially hidden. I lean against the cold metal and look at Brant. He looks up as soon as my gaze falls on him, and he gives me a quick nod. My body relaxes. I let out a deep breath as I slump against the wall.
Then he smiles—so small it almost doesn”t show on his lips, but even from eighty-five feet away I see the way it lights up his eyes. My core heats, and my stomach twists. I have to find a way out of this charity thing. I can”t spend time with him. There”s no way he would want me to if he knew about me.