Chapter 12
AUSTIN
“Your range of motion has improved significantly,” Jen said, eyebrows raised as she manipulated my knee through various positions. “I’m honestly shocked.”
I gritted my teeth through a particularly challenging stretch, then relaxed as she released the pressure. “Good shocked or bad shocked?”
“Good shocked. Like, ‘I might need to revise your entire recovery timeline’ shocked.” She sat back on her stool, studying me with suspicious eyes. “What have you been doing differently? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because these improvements didn’t happen by magic.”
Heat crept up my neck as images of Kate flashed through my mind—specifically Kate straddling me on the couch, Kate bent over the kitchen counter, Kate with her legs wrapped around my waist against the shower wall...
“I’ve been more consistent with my stretching routine,” I offered instead.
Jen’s bullshit detector practically beeped audibly. “Try again, Stone.”
I sighed. “My roommate suggested some modified stretches. She’s a scientist, reads a lot of medical journals.”
“The infamous roommate,” Jen smirked. “Well, whatever stretches she’s recommending are working wonders. Your muscle guarding has decreased significantly, and that’s enabling better blood flow and faster healing.”
“She’s...thorough in her research.”
“I bet she is.” Jen’s knowing smile made me want to disappear into the treatment table. “Any other physical activities helping with your recovery?”
Jesus Christ. Was it that obvious?
“Just following the protocol,” I muttered, but my face must have given me away.
“Right.” She chuckled. “Well, keep following that ‘protocol.’ I’m adding more resistance training today since you’re responding so well. You might actually beat the timeline we discussed.”
The news should have thrilled me. Instead, I felt an unexpected twist of anxiety in my gut.
Two hours later, I sat in the team conference room, surrounded by coaching staff and management. Coach Martinez paced at the front, excitement radiating from his typically stoic face.
“Callahan’s making remarkable progress,” the team doctor was saying. “If he continues on this trajectory, we’re looking at full participation in practice next week and game-ready in two.”
“That’s fantastic news,” General Manager Wilson said, leaning forward. “The team needs you back, Stone. Especially with Mendez out for the season.”
“We’ll need to manage your minutes initially,” Coach added. “But having you quarterbacking the power play again will be huge.”
I nodded, the appropriate responses coming automatically while my mind raced ahead. Two weeks. Four road trips in the first month back. Extended time away from Kate.
“Stone?” Coach’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You with us?”
“Yes, sir. Just mentally preparing.”
“Good man. We’ve missed that intensity.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, about the defensive pairings...”
The meeting continued, but my focus kept slipping. Why wasn’t I ecstatic? This was everything I’d been working toward. My career back on track. My identity intact. Yet all I could think about was Kate’s face when I’d tell her I’d be gone for a week at a time.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Kate
Just successfully cultured a particularly stubborn strain of bacteria! This calls for celebration. Thinking naked pizza party. Your place or mine? (Kidding, they’re the same place...for now.)
That “for now” hit like a slap shot to the chest.
The meeting finally ended, and I was gathering my things when Dennis appeared, slinging an arm around my shoulders.
“Heard the news, you lucky bastard. Two weeks! We need to celebrate!”
“Not really in a celebrating mood,” I muttered.
Dennis stepped back, examining me like I’d grown a second head. “Who are you and what have you done with Stone Callahan? This is what you’ve been killing yourself for.”
“I know.”
“Look, you’re overthinking something. I can see it in that broody expression.” He grabbed my arm and started pulling me toward the exit. “Team night out. Right now. Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
“I have a PhD in getting your head out of your ass. Let’s go.”
Thirty minutes later, we were at Lockhart’s with half the team. The bar was noisy enough that conversation required leaning in, but not so packed that we were constantly interrupted. I nursed a club soda while most of the guys were several beers deep.
“So what’s with the face?” Dennis asked, sliding into the booth across from me. “You should be fucking ecstatic about coming back.”
I set my glass down carefully. “What happens when I start traveling again?”
“You...play hockey? The thing you’ve been working your ass off to get back to?”
“With Kate,” I clarified, hating how vulnerable the question made me feel. “We’ve barely figured out whatever this is between us, and now I’ll be gone half the time.”
Dennis’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. You’re actually serious about her.”
Before I could respond, a group of women approached our table, led by a statuesque blonde whose eyes had locked onto me like a heat-seeking missile.
“You’re Austin Callahan, right?” Her voice was practiced, confident. “I’m a huge fan. I’d love to buy you a drink.”
Dennis’s face lit up like he’d just scored in overtime. “Well hello there,” he said to the blonde, then shot me a look that screamed ‘opportunity knocking.’ “My friend here would love a drink. He’s celebrating his return to the ice.”
I shifted uncomfortably as the blonde—Amber, she introduced herself—slid into the booth beside me, her thigh pressing against mine with deliberate pressure. The scent of her perfume was overwhelming, cloyingly sweet compared to Kate’s subtle vanilla and clean lab smell I’d grown addicted to.
“I’ve followed your recovery,” Amber purred, her hand landing on my forearm. “Such a shame about your injury. But I always knew you’d make it back.”
“Thanks,” I replied, deliberately shifting away to create space between us. “It’s been a long process.”
Dennis was already deep in conversation with one of Amber’s friends, but I caught him watching me from the corner of his eye, clearly waiting to see what I’d do.
“So,” Amber continued, leaning closer, “I have an apartment just down the street. Maybe we could continue this conversation somewhere more...private? I’d love to hear all about your rehabilitation.”
I almost laughed. Rehabilitation wasn’t exactly standard dirty talk, but I guess when you’re fishing for hockey players, you use whatever bait you can.
“I appreciate the offer,” I said, removing her hand from my arm as politely as possible. “But I’m seeing someone.”
The words hung in the air for a moment. Dennis’s head snapped toward me, his expression a comical mix of shock and amusement.
“Oh.” Amber’s smile faltered slightly. “She doesn’t have to know. I’m very discreet.”
“I’d know,” I said firmly. “And that’s not how I operate.”
After a few more awkward exchanges, Amber and her friends moved on to more receptive targets across the bar. Dennis immediately slid over, his face splitting into a shit-eating grin.
“Dude,” he said, drawing out the word. “You just turned down a solid nine who was practically offering to fuck you in the bathroom.”
“Your point?”
“My point is that Stone ‘Ice Veins’ Callahan just said he’s ‘seeing someone.’ Like, publicly. To a hot, willing woman.” He clutched his chest dramatically. “I need to document this historic moment.”
“Remind me why I still talk to you.”
“You’re completely whipped,” Dennis continued, shaking his head in wonder. “And you don’t even seem pissed about it. It’s fascinating, like watching a lion become a housecat.”
“You done?”
“Not even close.” Dennis took a long pull of his beer. “But seriously, this is good. I haven’t seen you this invested in someone since...well, ever.”
I rotated my glass slowly, watching the condensation create patterns on the table. “That’s the problem.”
“How is having feelings for a smart, hot scientist who apparently rocks your world a problem? Most guys would consider that winning the fucking lottery.”
“I’m about to go back on the road, Dennis. Ten days at a time sometimes. What if—” I stopped, the fear I’d been avoiding suddenly crystallizing.
“What if she decides it’s not worth it?” Dennis finished for me, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “What if she moves on while you’re gone?”
I nodded, hating how vulnerable it made me feel.
“Look, Stone, I’ve seen you take hits that would’ve hospitalized normal humans, then get up and finish the game.
You’ve played through broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and God knows what else.
But you’re sitting here terrified because you might have to put some effort into a long-distance relationship? ”
“It’s different,” I argued. “On the ice, it’s all in my control. This isn’t.”
“Relationships never are, you fucking idiot.” Dennis sighed. “That’s what makes them worth it. You can’t control Kate or how she feels. You can only control what you do about it.”
His unexpected wisdom hit harder than any check I’d taken on the ice.
“When did you get so insightful about relationships?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“I’ve had plenty. You’ve had...” He counted exaggeratedly on his fingers, “basically none. Sleeping with someone for three weeks doesn’t count as a relationship, Stone.”
He wasn’t wrong. My entire adult life had been structured around hockey—scheduled, predictable, controlled. Relationships were messy, unpredictable, filled with variables I couldn’t account for.
Kind of like Kate herself.
“So what do I do?” I found myself asking.
Dennis clasped his hands like a wise old sage. “You talk to her, dumbass. You tell her what you’re worried about. And then—here’s the revolutionary part—you listen to what she says. You’re practically fucking pasteurized.”
“Says the guy who’s never dated someone longer than a playoff run.”
“Touché.” He raised his glass in a mock toast. “So, you gonna tell her tonight about the two-week timeline?”
I pocketed my phone, decision made. “Tonight.”
“And if she’s not into the whole long-distance thing?”
“Then at least I’ll know.” I stood up, tossing some cash on the table for my club soda. “I’ve gotta go.”
“To have deep, meaningful conversation?” Dennis waggled his eyebrows.
“Something like that.”
“Use protection during your ‘conversation’!” he called after me, loud enough that several nearby tables turned to stare.
I flipped him off without looking back, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. For all his obnoxious qualities, Dennis had managed to cut through my bullshit in record time.