2. Sophie
The urge to punch this guy in his ruggedly handsome face pulses through me. But instead of doing that, I force myself to take a breath.
This is your first day on the job. You can’t hit the star player of the team, even if he was a total prick to you.
“Y-You’re Porter’s daughter?” Xander repeats.
“Yeah.”
“And you’re a doctor?” He blinks like he’s utterly bewildered.
That familiar wave of insecurity rises inside of me. It’s sharp and ugly, and I hate it. So much.
“Yes,” I snap.
“But…you’re so young.”
“So are you,” I snap.
He opens his mouth but hesitates before closing it. Opting not to speak is the first intelligent thing I’ve witnessed this guy do in the last two minutes.
His shoulders slump. He quickly looks away from me. The skin along his stubbled cheeks reddens, like he’s embarrassed.
I step away to grab an ice pack and hand it to him.
“You must be a genius,” he says.
I take in the look in his hazel eyes. He doesn’t look bewildered anymore. More like he’s in awe. Of me.
It throws me off.
Probably because I’m not used to guys looking at me like that or speaking to me like that—especially not guys like Xander Williams, a rich and famous hockey star.
Not like I even know guys like him well…or any guys, really. I spent my school years in accelerated programs and testing out of every grade in elementary school and middle school. I was taking college classes when I was fourteen. By the time I was seventeen, I was enrolled in medical school. I spent my preteen and teenage years in lecture halls, tutors’ offices, and labs. And when I wasn’t in school, I was at home or the library studying.
Xander’s right. I’m technically a genius. I’ve got impressive degrees and a career. But I’m lightyears behind most people my age when it comes to things like a social life, friendships, and relationships.
An uneasy feeling lands in the pit of my stomach.
Except for that one time when I let my guard down…when I thought I met a guy who liked me and cared about me.
But I was dead wrong about him.
I take a second to swallow back that sick feeling that bubbles up my chest and throat.
I look at Xander and focus on the pleading look in his eyes as he stares at me. I take in how it softens his features.
His handsome face is all sharp angles and roughness, from the cut of his jaw to the dark scruff on his cheeks to the crook in his nose. But that pleading expression…
Just seeing him like this—all soft and feeling—sends goosebumps all over my skin.
Maybe he’s not a jerk…
I stop that thought the second it formulates. I’m probably dead wrong about Xander too.
I clear my throat, ignoring all the confusing feelings swarming through me. I grab Xander’s hand with the ice pack and hold it to his nose. “Keep that on there for fifteen minutes. Do a cold compress at least four times a day for the next two days to keep the swelling down. Take whatever over-the-counter pain reliever you like to manage the pain. Sleep with your head propped up on pillows for the next few nights. You’re out for the rest of the game. If swelling worsens or the pain worsens, come see me.”
“Okay, thank you,” he murmurs.
I start to walk out of the room, but he stops me.
“Dr. Porter, wait.”
I turn around to him.
“I am so sorry.”
I zero in on that flash of pain in his hazel eyes. For a second, I start to feel myself soften. He sounds genuine, like he regrets what he said.
But then I remind myself that he just found out I’m his coach’s daughter. He’s probably freaked out and panicked about leering at me a minute ago and doesn’t want to get on my dad’s shit list.
I don’t blame him. My dad’s a hardass. I’ve seen the toughest athletes turn into nervous wrecks in his presence. No doubt Xander is terrified of his wrath and not actually sorry.
That softness inside of me fades.
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “Let’s just forget it.”
He works his mouth like he wants to say more, but he stays quiet. He nods once at me.
I walk out of the room and try not to think about the horribly awkward way I just met Xander Williams.
* * *
I walk to my dad’s office after the game. My phone buzzes in my pocket. When I see a text from my best friend Dakota, I stop to read it.
It’s your first day as the youngest team doctor in the history of the NHL and we need to celebrate! Let me take you out for a drink!
I smile at my phone. Dakota has been my best friend ever since we were kids. We met as youngsters hanging out at the hockey rink. I was often there with my dad and she was there to watch her older brother Del Richards, who’s now one of the fiercest players in the league.
She’s always been big on celebrating milestones. When I graduated high school, she took me out for ice cream. When I got into med school, she surprised me with a bottle of sparkling grape juice. Now that we’re old enough to drink alcohol, she wants to celebrate every achievement with the hard stuff.
Me: You just want an excuse to drink champagne
Dakota: Duh! Always!
Me: LOL okay sure, just text me where and when, I’ll meet you as soon as I finish up here at the arena
Dakota: Cool! And wear something cute, okay? No more showing up to bars and clubs in scrubs or work clothes
I roll my eyes.
Me: Ugh fine
I put my phone back in my pocket as I walk up to my dad’s office. I knock on his door.
“Come in.”
When I open the door and walk in, he’s sitting at his desk, frowning at his phone. When he looks up at me, his hard expression fades. The look in his eyes goes soft and he smiles.
“Hey, honey.”
He hops up from his desk, walks over, and hugs me. “How’d your first night go? You get settled in okay?” he asks when he releases me.
I think about the disastrous meeting I had with Xander when he thought I was a stripper.
“Yeah, it was good,” I say, opting not to tell him about it. Because other than that, the night went well. The team staff welcomed me and told me to come to them if I had any questions. And I was able to catch bits of the game when I wasn’t working.
“Everyone’s been nice to you?” he asks. I don’t miss that focused look in his eyes.
My dad’s always been protective of me. I’m an only child so he’s always been super involved in my life. But after my mom died in a car accident when I was thirteen, he’s been even more watchful over me.
He always calls me once a day, every day, on top of texting me. And when I threw out the idea of moving out on my own a few months ago, he wouldn’t hear of it. He said it was too dangerous, that I was too young to be living on my own—even though I’m twenty-four years old.
He offered me the guest house on his property as a compromise, which I reluctantly accepted because I didn’t want to fight with him. As much as I want my independence, I also love my dad. I know it would drive him wild with worry if I just up and moved out, despite how badly I want to be on my own. And he’s the only family I have left. I don’t want to cause a rift between the two of us, especially after the way we lost Mom.
I smile at him. “Yes, Dad. Everyone’s been really kind and welcoming.”
He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze and smiles at me. “I’m so happy to hear that, honey. And I’m so happy you’re here.”
There’s a tenderness in his eyes as he smiles at me. When he first pitched the idea that I fill in as team doctor for the Bashers, my instinct was to say no. No question, it was an incredible opportunity. I was fresh out of residency and was researching sports medicine clinics to apply to. To be the team physician for a professional sports team, you’d normally have to have years of professional experience, and I had just a few. And I knew people would think the only reason I got this job was because my dad was the head coach.
He’s not in charge of hiring the medical staff for the team, but his word carries a lot of weight. All it would take is one conversation from him, and I’d be hired, no questions asked. It would be a pretty standard nepo baby situation, and I didn’t want that.
But my dad was so excited when he told me about it. And even when I told him my concerns, he brushed it all aside.
“I’d never want you to take this job if I didn’t think you were qualified, honey,” he said. “You know me. I don’t give chances to people who don’t earn them. You’re a genius. You’ve spent your life working so hard—harder than anyone your age, and most people older than you, even. You deserve this. Plus, it would be a dream to work with my daughter.”
I was touched by what he said, so I accepted the job.
“Congrats on the win tonight,” I say to him.
He frowns slightly. “Thanks. Wasn’t our best showing. We barely beat Nashville.”
The teams were tied two-to-two until halfway through the third period when the Bashers scored.
His phone buzzes. It’s probably one of the other coaches or the GM messaging him to talk about the game.
“We looked pretty lazy out there,” my dad mutters as he frowns at his screen.
“Dad, come on.”
He looks at me, that softness in his expression again. His eyes are crystal blue, just like mine.
I grin at him. “A win is a win. Let yourself enjoy it.” I hold up my hand for a high-five.
He gently smacks my palm and chuckles. “You’re right, honey. Thanks.”
He presses a quick kiss on my forehead before stepping back to his desk.
“I’ve got to stick around here for a bit and finish up a few things before going home,” he says. “You’re heading there now, right?”
“I was going to meet up with Dakota actually.” I hate how I sound like a teenager getting permission from my parents to go out. I’m twenty-four. It’s perfectly fine if I want to get a drink with my best friend.
He looks up. “Oh. Sure.” He smiles, but there’s a tightness in his expression that’s clear as glass. I can tell he hates the idea of me going out late at night.
“Dad. I’ll be fine. Try not to worry, okay?”
He blinks and his expression softens a bit. “Just text me when you meet up with Dakota, just so I know you made it there okay. And text me again when you make it home to the guest house.”
I hold back the heavy exhale I want to let loose. I love my dad to bits, but I hate that he treats me like this, like I’m a child that needs to be looked after constantly. I know he can’t help it, I know he does it as a coping mechanism after the heartbreaking way we lost Mom…but this can’t go on forever.
Despite knowing that, I nod.
“Of course I will.”
I walk over and give him one more hug. He squeezes me tight before releasing me, and I leave to meet Dakota.