Chapter 11 Lincoln
LINCOLN
I’ve been distracted all morning, wondering what Parker is doing. It’s ridiculous and not something I’ve ever experienced before. Usually, my mind is on the game and nothing else. But suddenly, there she is, taking up thoughts in my head when I should be focused on winning our next matchups.
We’ve got a stretch of three away games that we need to win. We might be sitting pretty right now, but we all know that it can change on the flip of a dime. And having my mind drifting, wondering if she’s in the training room rubbing down one of my teammates, isn’t going to fucking help.
Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my waist and walk toward my stall, water dripping from me.
“The fuck was up with you today?” Handsy asks as I drop to my ass, my elbows on my knees and head in my hands.
“Off day,” I grunt, hoping it’ll be enough to pacify him.
“You sick or something? Because if you are, I don’t want you anywhere fucking near me. Hammond isn’t ready,” he says, mentioning our second-line goalie.
“No, I’m not sick.” Just…distracted by a woman I know is walking around here in those goddamn leggings that make her ass look insane.
Every motherfucker inside this building is going to be looking. The knowledge causes something red hot to rise up inside me.
I fear it might be jealousy, but I’m refusing to think about it.
“Right, well, whatever it is, fix it before we hit the ice this afternoon. I’ve got a meeting with Coach,” he says before disappearing from the dressing room. The other guys in here shoot me looks, but none of them dare says anything.
You just need to see her, a little voice says. Once you know she’s here and settled, you’ll relax.
Pushing to my feet, I make quick work of getting dressed, my groin pulling as I step into my shorts. I swear it’s been hurting worse ever since she brought it up. She’s punishing me, and she doesn’t even know it.
With my hair still wet and my athletic shirt sticking to my back, I march out of the dressing room in search of her.
I don’t have to look very far, because as I’m approaching the training room, her voice floats down to me.
The hairs on the back of my neck lift as she talks passionately about how grateful she is to be allowed to do a job she loves with a team she’s supported all her life.
I pause at the doorway and just listen. I’m hardly surprised when another familiar female voice speaks up. Of course, Brooke has gotten her hands on Parker because having a female athletic trainer is marketing gold. I just hope Parker is ready for what’s going to follow it.
Being in the public eye can be incredible.
I have met some unbelievable people because of it, and my reach has helped many good causes over the years.
But there is a dark side to it all. The trolling, the hate-filled comments.
And I hate to even think it, but I have a feeling the ones that are going to be directed at Parker are going to be a lot worse than the kind the guys and I get after a shitty loss.
Despite hearing Parker’s voice, my need to see her grows again, and my feet move before I’ve registered the decision.
A huge breath leaves me as my eyes land on her. She’s sitting on the edge of the treatment table, her focus fully on Brooke as she asks another question, completely oblivious that she’s got the attention of every other person in the room.
Monroe, Killer, Fletch, and Kodie have all stopped what they were doing to watch and listen.
But as much as I want to bark at them to get back to work, I don’t want to announce my presence yet. I just want to watch.
“And what is it that you’re looking forward to most in your new role?”
“Being a part of something I love. Being able to support the team, ensure that they’re all in peak condition, so that they can bring the cup to LA this year.”
“Amen to that,” Brooke says.
I don’t know what I do—I swear, I don’t move—but suddenly, Parker’s eyes lift, instantly finding mine.
My hand rises, and like a fucking moron, I give her a little wave.
What the fuck is wrong with you, Storm?
Brooke notices where Parker’s attention has wavered to, and she looks over her shoulder.
“You’ve been a part of the Vipers’ family for a long time, haven’t you, Parker?”
“I have. My dad played for them for a short time back in the day. He moved us here, and it’s where we stayed. My brother and I grew up supporting our home team, and while he might have moved on—” A round of boos sound out, making Parker laugh. “I’m still here supporting my boys every chance I get.”
“You’re friends with Casey Watson, our coach’s daughter, and Kodie River’s new girl, is that right?” Brooke asks, shooting Kodie a look. He does everything he can to avoid her questions or demands for content, so she’ll take any mention of him as a win.
“Yes, Casey and I grew up together. We also used to play on the same team.”
“Ice hockey?”
“Of course. It runs through our blood. She was always better than me, though.”
“Ah, yes, of course. And while we don’t like talking about our rivals, it would be rude not to point out that you’re Everett Donnelly’s little sister.”
“Please, don’t remind me,” Parker says with a laugh. “Rett and his best friend Lincoln Storm,” she says, her eyes locking with mine again, “spent their formative years tormenting me.”
Brooke, following Parker’s attention, turns toward me.
“And we have the man in question right here. So, you and our new athletic trainer have history, and it seems, sorry if I’ve misjudged, that she might have some revenge to take.”
I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Nah, it’s all water under the bridge now. Isn’t that right, Little P?”
Parker glowers at me. “I guess that’s between me, you, and the table, Storm.”
“Okay, cut,” Brooke shouts before barking a laugh. “That was gold. Fans are going to eat this up. Brother’s best friend. Childhood rival. It’s got “going viral” written all over it.”
I shake my head, walking deeper into the room. After all, I’m not just here to stalk Parker; I do actually need to put some work in.
“Okay, I’d really love to get some shots of you at work. Do we have any volunteers to—”
“I will,” Marilyn pipes up, jumping to his feet faster than any grown-ass man should be able to move after a grueling training session.
In a flash, he’s kicked his sneakers off and he’s on his front on the bed.
“My hamstring is acting up. It could really use some TLC.”
“Motherfucker.”
All eyes turn on me as I apparently say that out loud.
“Problem?” Marilyn asks, grinning up at me like a fucking fool.
“Of course not. You know what it’s like when Dillion really gets to your muscles?” I ask.
“Yeah...” Marilyn agrees hesitantly.
“Well, you’ve felt nothing yet.”
Honestly, I have no idea if that’s true or not. I’ve offered up my body for Parker to practice on for years, but she’s always refused. Equally, she wouldn’t have gotten this job if she didn’t know what she was doing—and sadly, that means pain.
Marilyn shoots a look at Parker, who rubs her palms together, warming them up.
“I promise to go easy on you.”
“Whoa.” Marilyn rears back. “I might be a rookie, but I’m no pussy.”
“We’ll see,” Parker says before getting into position and sliding her hands up the back of his thigh.
Every single muscle in my body tenses at the sight of her touching him.
“See, that’s nice,” Marilyn says.
“Yeah?” Parker asks, something wicked flashing in her eyes. “What about this?”
Marilyn’s yelp echoes around the room as Parker finds the sore spot. I swear, his entire body leaves the surface of the table.
Laughter ripples through the air, and he whimpers in pain.
“Aw, was that a little too much for you?” Parker teases, causing more laughter.
Oh yeah, she’s going to fit right in here.
“Little bit,” Marilyn forces out, tears in his eyes.
“Okay, I’ll take it a little softer. We’ll get this fixed up in no time.”
He relaxes back and we all watch for a few minutes as she lessens her pressure and begins a hypnotic rhythm up and down Marilyn’s hamstring.
“This isn’t prime-time TV,” a deep voice booms around the room. “Get some work done. We’re on the ice in two hours,” Coach barks before disappearing as fast as he arrived.
“You heard the man,” Fletch says, continuing with the stretches he was doing before turning his attention to Parker.
“You good?” Kodie asks when I step up beside him, still watching Parker and Monroe out of the corner of my eye.
“Yeah, of course. Why?”
“You look like you want to be the one up there.”
“Being put in that much pain? No, thank you.”
“Hmm.”
“If you have something to say, Rivers, just spit it out.”
“How is living together going?”
“Wait, what was that?” Fletch asks. “Linc is living with someone? A woman?”
I shoot a look over at Parker, but she’s too distracted with Monroe to hear us. Something tells me that she doesn’t want the entire team to know about her current living arrangements.
“Just helping out a friend. It’s nothing like that,” I say, narrowing my eyes at Kodie.
He holds his hands up in surrender.
“Whatever you say, man. Just be aware that Fletch and I know what that look means.” He points at me, circling his finger around my face.
“What look?”
“Yeah,” Fletch muses. “I see it.”
“See what?” I demand.
Kodie slaps me on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. When you do, you know where we are.”
“What? What are you talking about?” I shout as he marches from the room.
Fletch continues stretching, laughter rumbling in his chest.
“You’re not funny,” I mutter before dropping to the mat on the floor.
She might be on the other side of the room, but at no point do I forget she’s there. It’s not until Jarad calls her away that I can finally fully focus on what I’m doing.
It’s becoming more and more obvious that having Parker here is going to be a fucking problem for me.
And it only gets worse a little while later when we all take the ice, and there, standing in front of the player bench, is none other than Parker Donnelly with an iPad in her hand and her eyes on us.
It’s not unusual; Jarad and Dillion are always watching our performance, looking for injuries and weaknesses.
The problem is that when they turn their attention on me, I don’t feel it all the way down to my toes.