Chapter 11 Axel
AXEL
I closed my eyes during PT and pictured being back on the ice.
Imagining the cold bite of the rink, I’d push off and take the breakaway, with defenders closing in.
But I’d be faster. There’d be that moment when my body moved on instinct and where the puck was almost an extension of my stick.
The net would be wide open and I’d take the shot.
The lamp would light up, and the crowd would cheer.
For those few seconds, nothing else would exist.
But I opened my eyes to reality, and I couldn’t bend my wrist back without experiencing sharp pain.
“That’s enough for today.” Darren, my physical therapist, gave me what I’d come to describe as a well-meaning smile.
Damn. He didn’t need to say anything because the reality was I wasn’t healing as fast as expected. For a shifter to need PT was an anomaly, but to also have my progress lagging put a dent in my ego.
“I can do more.” I didn’t get up.
He shook his head and encouraged me to sit. “Your body’s telling me otherwise. You’re pushing yourself too hard, and your wrist needs more time to recover.”
“I don’t have time. I have to be ready for the playoff push.”
Darren patted my arm and murmured about the human body being resistant to wishful thinking. Except I wasn’t human.
I got dressed and tried to ignore my throbbing wrist. After weeks of doing PT, I hadn’t improved, or I had but not enough. My broken ribs had healed, and I had full movement in my shoulder, but the damned wrist refused to cooperate.
Stan was waiting in the lobby when I walked in. I pretended my wrist was better, but I was in pain after the PT session.
“How’d it go?” His smile, unlike Darren's, was hopeful.
“Great. I’m ready for the Olympics.”
His face fell. “That bad.”
I slumped onto the seat beside him. “Worse.”
Stan took my bag. Neither of us said anything on the way to the car or on the drive home. My mate kept glancing at me, but I couldn’t speak because everything I’d worked for was slipping away.
Back at the house, Stan made tea while I lay on the couch feeling sorry for myself. My wolf was restless and frustrated that he couldn’t help me heal.
“I have an idea.” As well as the tea, Stan brought me a slice of red velvet cake, my favorite. My mate was taking care of me and giving me something I loved, though the team nutritionist would have had words with me.
“If it involves more rest, I’ve done that.” I took a bite of the cake and thanked him but wasn’t going to eat any more.
“It’s about my den.”
Huh? That isn’t what I expected, especially as my mate’s father was human, so he didn’t grow up in the den.
“There’a healer, my aunt, Clarissa. She’s helped humans who’ve been injured when regular medication or PT hasn’t worked.” He put down his mug. “She might be able to help you.”
A fox healer who may or may not be able to help. It didn’t give me hope.
“We’re running out of options, Ax.”
The desperation in Stan’s voice had me holding back tears. My injury had upended our newly mated lives. We should have been planning a nursery, and instead, we were focused on me, my wrist and career.
He was right. What did I have to lose other than my arm?
My wolf reacted, thinking I was cutting off my limb, and I assured him that wasn’t happening.
“Okay.”
He grabbed his phone and wandered outside to make the call. I picked up some of the conversation but not enough to understand the outcome. But when my mate returned, he was beaming, the first real smile I’d seen since the day at the arcade.
“She’ll see you tomorrow, and she’s excited to meet you.”
“Excited?”
“You’re my mate and I’m carrying our baby, her great-nephew or niece.”
Again I was reminded of how my injury had put a damper on our lives. The baby and Stan having a healthy pregnancy should’ve been the priority, not whether I’d ever get on the ice again.
Though I hadn’t confided in my mate, I worried that if my career was over, I wasn’t trained for anything else. I’d have to take any job I could to provide for our child.
Being newly marked, we were still working out how to be mates. We’d been roommates for ages, but now we were partners, a couple and bonded. Being in love wasn’t enough for a successful relationship.
The den was an hour outside of town and it was a beautiful day, but I was stressed, thinking that if Clarissa wouldn’t help me, there was no Plan C.
Stan told me he’d spent time during each summer holiday in the den. His extended family had welcomed him, but he’d always felt a little apart from the other kids because his alpha dad was human and he didn’t live on den land.
Clarissa was Stan’s omega dad’s older sister, and she’d lived in the den her entire life. She was widowed, with grown children who’d moved away, and had been trained by the den’s former healer.
As we approached, I studied the rolling hills and the buildings tucked into the valley below. Houses were dotted around a larger structure which Stan said was the meeting place.
It was smaller than I imagined, but I hadn’t grown up in a fox den. And though I was part of a pack, I didn’t live with them and had little experience in communal living.
Stan drove through the gates and pulled up beside a house, no, a cottage. There were pink climbing roses around the entrance, so it was definitely a cottage.
An older woman appeared on the porch, and she raced along the path with her arms outstretched. She had Stan’s auburn hair, though hers was streaked with gray.
“Stan, my darling boy.” They hugged, and she patted his flat belly. “Congratulations.” She turned to me and enveloped me in her arms. “You must be Axel, the famous hockey player.”
I sent Stan a look over Clarissa’s shoulder. Famous I wasn’t, but my mate mouthed, “You are.” I hoped she wasn’t going to call me “Axel, the famous hockey player” whenever she spoke to me.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Clarissa.”
Stan handed his aunt a red velvet cake we’d picked up on the way, as, like me, it was her favorite.
The cottage scented of herbs when we walked in, and Clarissa made tea.
After we’d finished our hot drink and my mate and his aunt nibbled slices of cake, Clarissa asked me about my injury.
Stan had given her the bare bones, but I detailed how my wolf had been knocked out and had been unable to help me heal.
She didn’t interrupt, but when I finished, she asked to examine my wrist.
A tingling sensation spread over my arm and wrist as she placed both hands on me.
“Interesting.”
I didn’t like the sound of that and raised a brow at Stan. But he shrugged.
“Your human side is healing as a human would, slowly. But your wolf is holding on to his trauma.”
“Can you fix him?” How did anyone fix a shifter’s beast’s mind?
“I can help him, not fix. Your wolf experienced something catastrophic.” Clarissa pulled jars from a cupboard. “It’s not often a shifter’s animal is knocked unconscious, and he’s scared about it happening again, but by protecting you, he’s limiting you.”
Are you?
Maybe. Listen to the nice lady.
Clarissa mixed herbs with a mortar and pestle and instructed me to mix a spoonful with hot water and drink it morning and night.
“This will reduce inflammation and dampen your wolf’s fear response.”
Next she gave me a jar of what appeared to be a cream or ointment and told me to rub it on my wrist four times a day.
“And that’s it? My wolf and I will be cured?” I was trying not to get too hopeful, but Clarissa's calm manner and authoritative tone were getting me excited.
“No, you need to spend more time with your beast. Shift more, run in the woods and talk to him.” She glanced at her nephew. “Both of you should shift together.”
We spent a pleasant afternoon, and when we left, Clarissa told me to come and see her if I experienced any problems.
“When I meet your baby, I expect you to be on the ice with a hockey stick in your hand.”