Chapter 10
AUSTIN
The sterile smell of the medical facility hit me as soon as I walked through the sliding doors.
I’d spent more time in these places in the last three months than I had in my entire hockey career.
The receptionist recognized me immediately, offering a smile that was both sympathetic and professional.
“Mr. Callahan, Dr. Winters is ready for you. Exam room three.”
I nodded, my game face firmly in place as I navigated the familiar hallway, my slight limp less pronounced than it had been a week ago. The medical evaluation today would determine if I was actually making progress or just fooling myself.
Dr. Winters looked up from my chart when I entered, her expression unreadable. “Stone. How’s the knee feeling?”
“Better,” I said, settling onto the examination table. “Less stiffness in the mornings.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Honestly? No bullshit answer just to get back on the ice faster?”
I almost smiled. Dr. Winters was the only medical professional who talked to me like I was a person rather than the team’s most valuable defensive asset.
“Honestly. It’s not perfect, but it’s better.”
“Let’s take a look.”
Her hands were clinical and precise as she examined my knee, testing its range of motion and stability. I braced myself for the usual sharp pain when she manipulated the joint in certain directions, but to my surprise, it was more of a dull ache.
“Hmm,” she said, making notes on her tablet. “Your ligament stability has improved significantly since last month’s evaluation.”
Hope flared in my chest, but I tamped it down. “What does that mean for my timeline?”
“It means you’re healing, Stone. Not overnight, but definitely ahead of where I projected.” She met my eyes directly. “Whatever you’re doing differently, keep doing it.”
“I haven’t changed anything in my rehab protocol,” I insisted.
Dr. Winters gave me a knowing look. “Maybe not the protocol itself, but something’s different. You’re less tense. Your muscle guarding around the joint has decreased, which means better blood flow and faster healing.”
Less tense? Me? I almost laughed.
After Dr. Winters finished her evaluation, I headed down the hall toward the exit—but didn’t turn into the PT room. Not yet. I had a meeting to get to.
I stepped into the glass conference room of the marketing suite the team used for sponsorships and press calls. My agent Tom was already there, flanked by two reps from Rime Hydration—the brand apparently eager to slap my face on their next campaign.
“Stone,” Tom greeted, gesturing for me to sit. “Thanks for making time.”
“Let’s make it quick,” I said, folding into the chair with as much patience as I could fake.
The presentation was polished, full of buzzwords like resilience, performance, and elite recovery.
“They want to keep things on-brand,” Tom said casually, flipping through the slide deck. “Clean image. Focused. No distractions. One of the marketing execs asked about your... personal life.”
I raised a brow. “My personal life?”
“Nothing serious. Just making sure it aligns with the campaign. They’re all about aesthetics. You know how it is—these people want curated perfection. Designer kitchens, white teeth, and plus-ones who look good in group shots.”
I didn’t respond. But the comment sat in my chest like a puck to the sternum.
I nodded when appropriate, gave my pre-approved quotes, and signed off on a preliminary shoot date—pending medical clearance.
It was fine. Clean. Professional.
But the whole time, all I could think about was Kate.
About the way she’d looked when she fell asleep surrounded by research. The soft rasp of her laugh. The quiet fire in her eyes when she talked about changing the world, one bacterial compound at a time.
I should have been thinking about my comeback.
Instead, I was thinking about her.
When the meeting wrapped, I shook hands, ducked the press request for a photo, and made my way to PT—feeling something I hadn’t in months.
Hope.
“Someone looks less grumpy than usual,” Jen remarked as I entered. “Good news from the doc?”
“She says I’m ahead of schedule,” I admitted, setting my water bottle down. “Says I seem less tense.”
Jen’s mouth quirked into a smile as she prepared the electrical stimulation machine. “Really? You? The human equivalent of a clenched fist?”
“Fuck off,” I said, but there was no heat behind it.
“So what’s your secret?” She attached electrodes to my knee with practiced precision. “New meditation app? Yoga? Or does it have something to do with your new roommate?”
I tensed immediately. “What about her?”
“Oh, nothing,” Jen said, her voice innocent but her eyes dancing with amusement. “Just that you’ve been checking your phone more, occasionally smiling at texts, and now you’re healing faster. Doesn’t take a medical degree to connect those dots.”
“There are no dots to connect,” I insisted, though the image of Kate—wild-haired and brilliant, her body moving against mine—flashed through my mind.
“Uh-huh.” Jen adjusted the machine settings. “Well, whatever—or whoever—is responsible for relaxing the great Stone Callahan, I approve. Your body’s responding better to treatment.”
I stared at the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge her insinuation but unable to deny it entirely. Could Kate actually be having a physical effect on my recovery? The chaotic whirlwind who labeled my protein powders and conducted bacterial experiments in my kitchen?
The thought was as terrifying as it was intriguing.
“How’s practice going?” Jen asked, changing the subject.
“I’m still on modified ice time. No contact, no real drills.”
“But you’re skating,” she pointed out. “That’s progress, Stone.”
She was right. Three weeks ago, I couldn’t even get my skates on without pain. Now I was at least moving on the ice, even if I couldn’t do much else.
After finishing with the electrical stimulation, Jen put me through a series of strengthening exercises. To my surprise, I completed them with less discomfort than I’d felt in weeks.
“Your quad strength is improving,” she noted, making adjustments to my workout plan. “I think we can increase resistance next week.”
“Really?” I couldn’t keep the excitement from my voice.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she warned. “We’re talking small increments. But yes, you’re making progress.”
As I left the facility, my phone buzzed with a text.
Kate
Made a breakthrough with my bacteria cultures! Also, may have borrowed your fancy blender for a tiny, totally safe science experiment. (I swear the lid was secure this time.) How’s the knee?
Despite myself, I smiled. There were the dots Jen had so astutely connected.
When I unlocked the door to my apartment, I was in an uncharacteristically good mood. The doc’s news had been better than expected, and my knee felt stable in a way it hadn’t for months. I was about to call out to Kate when I spotted her sprawled across my living room floor.
Papers were everywhere—organized in what I assumed was a pattern that made sense only to her brilliant, chaotic mind. And there was Kate in the middle of it all, fast asleep, a pen still loosely held in her fingers, her hair exploding from a messy bun like a copper supernova.
In the past, I would have been irritated. This was my meticulously clean apartment, after all. Instead, I found myself crouching down to look at what she’d been working on.
The pages nearest to her were covered in complex formulas and diagrams, with notes scribbled in the margins in Kate’s distinctive handwriting. I picked up one sheet that had a heading: “Application of Bioactive Compounds in Athletic Recovery.”
My eyebrows shot up as I scanned the content. This wasn’t just abstract scientific theory—Kate was researching ways to accelerate healing in soft tissue injuries. Like my knee.
“That’s the boring section,” came a sleepy voice.
I looked up to find Kate watching me through half-lidded eyes, a crease on her cheek from where it had pressed against a textbook.
“If boring means potentially revolutionary for sports medicine, then sure,” I replied, still holding the paper.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, hair falling in her face. “Sorry about the mess. I was trying to organize everything for my presentation next week and must have fallen asleep.”
“Is this all your research?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Kate nodded, suddenly seeming self-conscious. “It’s my side project, actually. Not the main fellowship work. Dr. Barnes thinks it’s a waste of time, but I see potential applications.”
“For athletes?”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes lighting up with that passion I’d come to recognize whenever she talked about her work.
“Not just athletes. Anyone with soft tissue injuries. But yes, the recovery time for things like ligament tears could potentially be reduced by twenty to thirty percent with the right bacterial enzyme applications.”
I sat down on the floor across from her, setting the paper down. “Explain it to me. In English.”
Kate looked surprised. “You actually want to hear about my research?”
“Would I ask if I didn’t?”
A smile spread across her face, transforming her from sleepy to radiant in an instant. “Well, basically, I’m studying how certain bacterial compounds can act as catalysts in the healing process. They stimulate the body’s own repair mechanisms, making them work more efficiently.”
I found myself nodding, following her explanation as she grew more animated.
“The traditional approach is all about rest and gradual rehabilitation,” she continued, hands moving expressively. “Which is important—don’t get me wrong—but what if we could enhance the body’s natural healing capacity?”
“Like a biological booster,” I said.
“Exactly!” Her eyes widened, as if shocked I’d made the connection. “That’s exactly it. God, I wish Dr. Barnes understood it like you just did.”
Something warm bloomed in my chest at her words. “How long until something like this could be used clinically?”