8. Ice Bath Woes
Chapter Eight
Ice Bath Woes
MILES
The Burlington Bobcats had a decked-out training room.
The equipment was all state-of-the-art with brand new technology that even had me Googling some things before the guys showed up.
Not that I didn’t know what I was doing—I was damn good at fixing these players up—but technology moved so damn fast these days.
Even our ice baths appeared to be connected to Bluetooth and had an app to help me control temperature.
Pretty fucking nice, but also slightly frustrating when the damn app wouldn’t connect.
“What the hell?” I sighed as I reset it for the hundredth time.
“Morning, bud.”
I jerked up off my knees, surprised at the sudden voice.
It was Emmy. He walked in wearing a blue and black Bobcats shirt and light blue gym shorts.
He was a tall guy, standing at around six foot three, meaning I had to tilt my head back slightly even once I was on my feet.
He had always exuded captain energy, so it didn’t surprise me that he was the leader of the Bobcats—as well as the alpha of the Burlington pack.
“Just trying to get this ice bath to connect to my phone.”
“Are you trying to upload our injuries to the cloud?”
“Basically,” I answered with a chuckle. “I’ll figure it out later.” I pocketed my phone and reached out to shake my best friend’s hand. “Practice seemed like it went well this morning.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t too happy about a couple of fuck-ups, but overall, it’s looking good. I think we have a good shot at the Calder Cup this year.”
“I’m sure you guys do,” I said. It felt good being around my best friend again.
We lost touch a little bit when Emmy moved away from Philly, but we had the kind of friendship that picked up right where we left off, regardless of the dwindling text messages and phone calls between us.
He also withdrew a bit after he lost his wife.
An event that catastrophic changes people.
It makes them throw up walls, even when it shuts out the people closest to them.
I saw it in the way my father walked through this world—always wary of the next devastating loss.
“How are you settling in?” Emmy asked, moving to grab a resistance band off the wall. He stepped onto the center of the blue band and pulled the two opposite ends up and away from his body.
I walked over, abandoning this Bluetooth ice bath mission, and adjusted his left shoulder so it was in line with his right.
“It’s only been a couple weeks, but I’m feeling really good about it.
I thought I’d miss the big city but I’m liking the pace of Burlington.
I also love the short commute. That alone has me in love with this place.
” I glanced over my shoulder and made sure no one else had come inside the training area without me noticing.
“Plus, shifting and running through the woods is my new favorite pastime.”
“It’s a nice perk.”
“It is.”
“You’ve met the rest of the pack, right?”
“Only some,” I said, my mind going to one particular member. “I actually bumped into Dylan the first day I was here. He introduced me to Chris, and I met Soren and Gabe once we started practice.”
“Shit, you still have to meet the others.” Emmy raised his arms and held the bands out in front of him, pulsing them up with tiny movements. His form was flawless. “I’m having a game night tonight at my place with the entire pack, you should come.”
Entire pack. Dyl’s going to be there.
I wasn’t sure why that was the first thought in my head.
I felt almost guilty about it. I was trying to keep him from embedding himself in my mind, but it seemed the opposite was happening.
If I was being truthful, I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since he took me to that spot at the park, where I opened up to him… in a couple of different ways.
“That sounds like a good time,” I said, hoping Emmy wouldn’t notice the flush of pink heat spreading across my cheeks.
I could switch up the conversation but this was my best friend I was talking to.
Even though I wasn’t entirely sure if my attraction for Dylan was something I should embrace, I knew it wasn’t something I should hide from Emmy.
“Dyl will be there, right?” I broached, wanting to tiptoe into this topic rather than dive headfirst.
“He will. Unless he finds a last-minute date or hookup.”
My heart began to pump harder, faster. Irrational. I shouldn’t be jealous or protective over a guy I needed to keep at a distance.
And yet, I was. Fuck. “Does he go on dates often?” It could have been construed as an innocent question if my damn voice didn’t betray me and pitch up toward the end.
Emmy lowered his arms to his side and raised an eyebrow.
He dropped the resistance bands. “He does like to date around a lot. Definitely what I would consider a fuckboy, even though I say that with all the love possible. He knows it, too. I don’t think I’ve seen him want to settle down with one person in the four years I’ve known him. ”
I swallowed down an uncomfortable feeling in my throat. “Huh…”
“Why?” Emmy’s eyes narrowed. He had a way of making me feel like a kid caught with their hands in the cookie jar. He wasn’t going to let me go without talking about it.
“We’ve hung out a couple times, and how do I say this, um—”
“You guys fucked?”
My eyes snapped open. “No, no, no.”
He laughed at how flustered I’d suddenly become. “That reaction is telling me the opposite.”
“Seriously, we haven’t. I just really like being in his presence, and I’m not sure if I should. Not because he’s a fuckboy or anything, but because I don’t think a trainer should be making things messy with one of the players.”
Emmy pursed his lips at that. The sound of a rowdy group of players echoed down the hallway but they continued on past the training room.
I recognized Dyl’s voice in the group. It wasn’t difficult to pick out.
And not just because I loved the sound of it, but because he was also the loudest. It made me smile—which I quickly tamped back down.
“I mean, if it’s something consensual between you two, and it doesn’t get in the way of the game, then I think it’s okay.
” He put his hands up defensively. “I’m not sure if Coach will say something different, though.
And this is coming from someone who thinks following their heart—and other parts of yourself—is important.
The time we have with people we like and are attracted to isn’t as infinite as we sometimes trick ourselves into believing. ”
That part hit me square in the gut. Especially coming from Emmy. “It’s a lot to think about, but I am attracted to him if I’m being honest. And not just physically. He draws me in with just a smile. I don’t know, it sounds cheesy, but I’ve never felt like that toward anyone.”
“Then I think it’s even more important for you to throw caution to the wind on this one.”
“Would it be good with the pack?”
“I’m the alpha and I’m saying it’s okay.
So yes.” He gave me a friendly wink. Sometimes I forgot I was speaking to the Burlington pack’s alpha, simply because I knew Emmy from before he was ever even part of the pack.
He definitely commanded power in his demeanor, whether on the ice or off it, but it wasn’t in a way that made others feel small or constantly reminded them of that power imbalance.
“Fine,” I said, feeling slightly more reassured. “Maybe I’ll leave myself open to the possibility.”
“I think you should.” He shifted on his feet, hands going into the pockets of his shorts. “Now, I can’t promise you he won’t break your heart. Dyl’s a free spirit in that sense, although I know lately he’s talked about finding something more serious.”
That was a bridge I’d have to cross once we reached it.
It wasn’t as though I was planning on marrying him already.
We weren’t even in the talking stages, although admittedly we had texted a couple of times since we last hung out.
It was about stupid shit mostly, although some of the texts were just checking in with each other, which I quite liked.
Especially when I’d texted him to say hey, and he replied that he’d just been thinking about me and asked how my day was going.
The sound of footsteps coming toward the training room made me pause. I waited to see if they would pass, but the squeaky sneakers grew louder and stalled just outside the door. “We’ll see what happens,” I answered Emmy just as George Winder, the assistant coach, walked into the training room.
Emmy held out a hand. I clasped it in mine as he pulled me in for a quick hug. “See you later for game night.”
“See ya,” I said. Emmy left the training room, grabbing a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge next to the door on his way out.
I turned my attention to George. He was dressed like someone who’d recently lost a lot of weight but hadn’t changed out their closet yet.
His light blue button-up shirt looked two sizes too big, bunching up and spilling out from where he tucked it into his baggy jeans.
He had a folder in his hand, his grip so tight on it that I could see it creasing the edge.
“Hey, Miles, I’ve got the injury reports from last season that you were missing.”
He handed the folder over. It was heavy and must have taken the entire morning to put together. I decided not to tell him I found the backup files the last trainer had left on the computer. “Thank you, George.”
“Of course. I’m glad I could help.” He seemed to almost go in for a hug but stopped himself short before awkwardly glancing around as if searching for an exit.
There were a few different rooms—the rehabilitation room, the weight room, the steam room, my cramped little office.
We stood in the rehab room where a few tables were set up along with the high-tech ice baths.
Maybe George knew how to use them? “You’ve already helped me more than enough,” I said as I placed the thick folder on one of the tables and pulled out my phone, ignoring the awkwardness that still hung in the air.
“But are you good with technology? I’ve been trying to connect my phone to this ice bath but it doesn’t work. ”
He nodded vigorously and reached for my phone. “I’m the go-to tech support in my family. I can probably figure it out.” He walked over to the ice bath, turning on the digital display. “Never seen one of these. Pretty wild how much shit connects to our phones, huh?”
“Very,” I said, tidying up the resistance bands that hung on the wall while George worked on my phone. “It’s almost too much.”
“Totally too much. Also makes me wonder how many people have access to our phones, you know? Like we connect it to all this shit, but what if something’s connecting back?”
“The NSA better not have tapped my damn ice baths.”
George gave a deep belly laugh at that. I grinned. I wasn’t the type who made people laugh very easily, but it was nice when I got that reaction. Even if for some reason George’s laughter felt a little forced. “Annnd there you go. All connected.”
“Really?” I walked over and saw all the info displayed on the app. “Damn, you made that look easy.”
He shrugged in a way that said it was, but spared me by not saying it out loud.
“Whatever you need, just give me a call. I put my phone number in there too if that’s all right. Sometimes I’m easier to reach that way than through email.”
I didn’t quite know how to feel about George going and adding himself on my phone—I had very valid reasons to keep my personal information secure (and had a couple of dirty pictures I’d been wanting to send to Dyl but chickened out every time)—but I was around him the entire time and didn’t notice him scrubbing through my photo albums or text messages.
I pushed away the discomfort and thanked him again.
“Have fun tonight,” he said as he started walking out.
“Huh?” I asked.
“Oh, at the game night. Heard Emmy mentioning it.”
“Right, right. It’ll be a good time.”
“I’m sure it will,” he said, smiling at me as he knocked a goodbye on the white brick wall. He winced ever so slightly and I noticed him shake his hand before stuffing it in his pocket. He walked out, his shoes squeaking loudly as he made his way down the hallway.
Huh. He was a weird guy, but seemed completely harmless and very helpful.
I went over to the ice bath and turned on the water.
There was a large ice machine next to the two tubs.
I grabbed a bucket from the floor and placed it under the dispenser.
I tapped on the button and large cubes of ice began dropping into the bucket, the loud whir of the machine mixing with the sounds of the ice clunking together.
It almost drowned out the ding of a text message. But I’d been so on edge lately about messages that I’d become hyper-sensitive to the sound.
Please just be Dyl checking in.
My stomach instantly dropped once I unlocked the screen.
It wasn’t Dyl. It wasn’t any number already saved on my phone. It had no text history attached to it. Only a single message.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Can’t wait to see you at your new job. So proud of you, baby. I bought you a beautiful iron collar as a gift, you’re going to look so good wearing it.
A blatant threat. I thought back to Dylan nearly breaking down thinking about his experience with the collar.
I imagined myself turned into a limp ragdoll at the command of whoever held my leash.
It burned a pit of rage in me to think Dylan went through it, and the idea that someone believed it would be a good idea to use it on me only fed the fire.
This needed to stop. One way or another.
This had to end.