Chapter 3 #3
I turned my head toward him. “Are you serious?” Sure, the position had been open for a little while, but we were at the end of the season. What the hell did we need one for now? Then it dawned on me. She’d been hired to be another babysitter. What the fuck?
“Yes, I’m serious and obviously she couldn’t come at a better time.
While I wish we could afford to have a physical therapist on the payroll, we just don’t have the funds.
However, Ms. Wallace has some special training in physical therapy that should prove useful to the organization.
As you might imagine, with today’s fiasco, Ford, you’re off the team roster until further notice. ”
“You can’t do that shit to me,” I countered, sounding like some whiny five-year-old.
“I can and I will since you don’t seem to have the need to get your head out of your ass.”
The smirk on her face turned into a sneer. She was enjoying the hell out of my dressing down.
“I am fine. See?” I lifted my arm, refusing to give in to the pain. Even doing a helicopter with it.
As soon as I brought my arm to my side, she placed her fingers on my shoulder.
The second she did, I was thrown into a strange fog so disruptive every sound was as if locked in a steel drum.
My heart hammered against my chest, my breathing more irregular than when I’d come to in the hospital.
The moment was completely electrified, sparking the air with sweeping current.
The girl had to ruin it by adding pressure to her hold. Not much but just enough I almost jumped out of my skin, the bolt of agony unlike anything I’d felt in my entire life.
Including shifting for the first time. Shit. Shit…
There was no chance of hiding the pain on my face. Or the fact my knees were wobbling. “I’m fine. Just a little tender.”
Her smug smile cut me like a knife. “Let me ask you a question, Ford. You do want to make it to the playoffs. Right?”
“Hell, yes. Plan on it.”
“Okay, then that means you want to be one hundred percent, I assume, not sixty percent?”
Was this a trick question? “Of course I want… no, I need to be one hundred percent. I will be.”
Her laugh floated in the air and if under ordinary circumstances, I would enjoy hearing the sound. Not tonight. Right now, the noise was more like having her nails scratching down a chalkboard.
Instead of down my back.
“Right now, you have what’s considered a sprain. If you go back on that ice, you’re looking at chronic if not permanent instability. In the coming months, you won’t be able to lift a coffee cup with that arm. You’ll have arthritis by age thirty-two. And drugs aren’t the answer.”
I’d be damned if her blue eyes weren’t holding me in place, my mind spinning with thoughts that were entirely inappropriate. “I never do drugs. My physiology can’t tolerate drugs of any type.”
That she hadn’t expected and honestly, I hadn’t been prepared for her bluntness. To the point I was flustered as fuck.
“Good to hear. Then all we need to work on to try and put you on a path to wellness is your bad attitude.”
She lifted her chin, allowing me to see her pretty little face more clearly.
Shit. I could fall in love, which wasn’t going to happen.
Besides, she was going to try to control my life and my game.
I got in her face, enjoying towering over her.
And drinking in her sensual perfume that reminded me of wildflowers just after a light rain, a hint of citrus and pinch of spice.
“My bad attitude? Look, lady. I know what I’m doing.
I’ve been playing hockey for longer than you’ve been alive. ”
“Ah, so we’ll add your advanced age into the situation. No problem.”
Did she just say that to me? Accusing me of being old?
Without me noticing, she was in my face while I was gawking at her like some lovesick teenager.
“Make no mistake, Mr. Kendrick. I’ve been asked to weigh in on your injury and how well you’re healing.
If I believe that you aren’t strong enough or if there’s even a slight chance you could further injure yourself, you will not step foot on the ice. Do I make myself clear?”
“You can’t tell me to do a damn thing.” I gave it back to her, purposely crowding her space and pushing her back against the wall. I had to give her credit that she didn’t blink. Not once.
“Dial down the heat level, Wolfman,” the coach said with full arrogance. “You’re going to submit to massages and treatment along with following your doctor’s orders or so help me God, I’ll bench you going into the next season.”
I snapped my head in his direction. “You wouldn’t do that.”
The coach grinned, leaning closer. “Try me. Ms. Wallace is the deciding factor on whether or not you play for the remainder of the season. Now, go home, Ford. Get some rest. Be here at ten in the morning for your first massage. You will do as the lady says. You got it?”
With a heavy exhale, I nodded. But that didn’t mean I was happy about being forced to follow her rules.
To prove the point, I stomped off.
Just like a petulant child.