Page 13
“Ready for your first day?” Parker asks before throwing his arm over my shoulder, his green eyes alight with mischief.
I don’t know who’s more excited about my first day of work: me or Parker. He has been bouncing off the walls since he came strolling out of Stacey’s room this morning. When he said he was going to be there to escort me to my first day of work, I thought he was joking, but there he was, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at six a.m. this morning.
“Define ready.” I yawn before threading my arm through my backpack strap and sliding it onto my opposite shoulder. “I only cleaned and recleaned the bathroom twice this morning before making it into the shower.”
Parker is my least favorite kind of person: a morning person. After cleaning the bathroom before and after I took my shower, I barely had enough time to pull my hair in a ponytail and get dressed. Unlike me, Parker has been awake since before the sun rose. Apparently, he was up early enough to go for a run, shower, and make lunch and breakfast for both of us. However, the one thing he forgot was my coffee. I can’t function before ten a.m. without coffee.
“Damn, Michele.” Parker whistles, stepping away from me and sliding his hands into his pockets. “I knew we should’ve stopped for coffee.”
“Potentially being late for my very first day at work because I was stuck in line at your favorite coffee shop wouldn’t have made things better, only worse.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
I wish that there was a magic cure-all to keep my anxiety at bay, but there’s no such thing. I took a full dose of my medication this morning before I left the condo and have my emergency dose tucked away in my backpack. For now, there’s nothing else to do but pray I can keep my shit together.
“Nah, but thank you.” I smile at him, needing to make light of the situation before I crack. “I just have to wait for it to pass. Just make sure the therapy room is stocked with soap, hand sanitizer, and paper towels.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“Then batten down the hatches, because your girl is going to be freaking out all day.”
“It can’t really be that bad, can it?” he questions, not understanding how bad my anxiety can get once I start spiraling.
“You have no fucking idea.” I stifle my yawn with my hand before continuing. “There’s coffee inside, isn’t there?”
“Yes, but it’s horrible.” Parker chuckles, running his hand through his dirty-blonde hair and using his head to motion me toward the employee entrance.
“Great. Nothing says congratulations on your first day better than shitty coffee.”
“Told you we should’ve stopped.” He pulls his employee badge from his pocket but stops, smiling brightly at me. “Do you want to do it?”
“Do what?”
“Man, you really need coffee to function.” Parker chuckles, motioning toward the keypad near the door. “Swipe your badge and open the door for the first time.”
“You are so sentimental, Parker.” I giggle, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my brand-new shiny Portland Timberwolves ID badge. “But I don’t mind if I do.”
I inhale deeply before swiping my card over the electronic reader. The only sound in the area besides our breathing is the click of the door as it unlocks. A sense of accomplishment overcomes me as I turn to Parker and smile.
“Congratulations, and welcome to the Timberwolves family, Michele.” Parker slaps a wet kiss on my cheek, grabbing the door over my head and holding it open.
“I’ve been a part of the family since I was nine and Dad joined the staff as a head coach.”
“Fair, but it’s not the same. Now you are a member of the team, not just the coach’s youngest daughter.” Parker shrugs, turning to the right and heading toward the locker room at the end of the hall, but I stop in my tracks.
I don’t know why the thought never crossed my mind until right now. I’ll work for the same team as my father. The team he has coached for Lord knows how many seasons. I was so worried about no one on the hiring team finding out who my father was and giving me preferential treatment, I didn’t even stop to think about what might happen afterward.
The entire training team and all the players have probably seen the picture Dad has sitting on the edge of his desk of me and my two sisters. Sure, the photo is from before I left for college, but other than the length of my hair, not much about me has changed since then.
I can feel my anxiety slowly ramping up. My heart pounds in my chest, and the sound of blood rushing through my veins is slowly getting louder, filling my ears. I close my eyes and begin counting, hoping to get my emotions under control. My mind races as I try to think of the perfect way to continue to keep my anonymity.
“Is there any way to keep that under wraps?” I question, my mind racing at ways to cover this up.
I usually just go by Michele at work, not bothering to use my last name for anything, but that doesn’t mean no one will notice. Dad will more than likely be watching me like a hawk, looking for the first chance he can to complain about me to human resources, but I doubt he’s going to let his players step one toe out of line with me.
My hands shake as my eyes frantically search for something to focus on. I can’t have a panic attack, not here. Not in the middle of the hallway where anyone can come by and see me. They won’t understand what’s happening—hell, I’m not even sure I understand why I’m freaking out over something so trivial.
“What do you want to keep it under wraps?” Parker spins around, eyeing me suspiciously, but I say nothing. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just worried about people finding out about my dad.” My voice sounds off, but thankfully, he doesn’t notice as my hand tightens around the straps of my backpack. The rough feeling of the all-weather material scrapes my palms.
Deep breath in, and let it out slowly.
Shit. I need to focus. But ?I can’t. No matter how much I breathe and count, still trying to focus on the world around me, nothing is helping the pain radiating through my chest as I try to focus on anything else but the fear of being told I’m inadequate.
No one is going to believe that Dad didn’t help me get this job, that I earned it. I’m more than qualified—overqualified if you ask Dad for his opinion—but no one is going to believe me. The minute they learn my last name…
Deep breath in, and let it out slowly.
Thankfully, I’ve got panicking to a science, where no one usually notices as I spiral, but this time, I’m not so lucky.
“Hey.” Warm hands grip my clenched fists, the heat warming my freezing limbs as my eyes snap open. Standing right in front of me with a warm smile is Parker. “You got this. Just breathe with me, okay?”
In and out. In and out.
I gasp for breath, my cheeks and chest feeling like they’re on fire as I allow the air to fill my lungs, easing my panic. I push up to a seated position, resting my back against the door for a second time. The tightness in my chest subsides, allowing me to breathe easier.
“I’m sorry,” I croak, my eyes scanning the hallway, searching to see who might have noticed what happened.
That is probably the worst part about my episodes. It’s the feeling of embarrassment afterward. Everyone has things they are worried about, but the physical manifestations of those fears are looked down upon. I can’t even count how many times I’ve been told to suck it up and that life can’t be as bad as I’m making it out to be. Oh, how fucking much I wish that were true! All the pills and therapy make it slightly easier to deal with, but it’s not a cure. It’s more like a Band-Aid to help me function daily. But it doesn’t make the trauma disappear. Your mind and body remember things forever. The only thing I can do is find a healthy way to cope and process my thoughts and feelings.
“Everything is going to be all right, Michele.” Parker pulls me into his side for a quick hug before putting some space between us. “The team already knows the new physio is starting today.”
“But do they know about my dad?” I whisper, not wanting to take the chance of someone passing by overhearing our conversation.
“I doubt it.” Parker smiles before turning on his heels and taking the last few steps toward the locker room. “Is that what you were panicking about?”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment as I shake my head. I wait for him to laugh at me or make light of the fact that I’m so afraid of anyone finding out my secret, but he does none of those things. Parker only smiles and shakes his head.
“I’m sorry you were stressing about this, but there’s no need for anyone to say anything to the team unless you want to.”
“But if they find out… what if they think—” I begin, but Parker cuts me off.
“Who cares what they think, Michele?” He cradles my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks, helping me focus on something other than the panic swelling in my belly for the second time. “Nothing they say or do can change the fact that you earned a spot on the team. It had nothing to do with your last name or anyone else. You put in the work. You were chosen out of hundreds of applicants.”
Parker is right. No one knew who I was when I applied for this position. I used a fake name because I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this without Dad's interference. And I did, so what else is left to prove? I want to prove to Dad that this is what I want to do with the rest of my life. Helping players continue to play a sport that has been a part of me my entire life. If it weren’t for hockey, my dad never would have met my mom. My sisters and I never would’ve been born. I practically owe hockey my life.
“Besides, they are going to find out eventually because you’re practically a female version of Coach.”
I recoil at his statement, wondering what the hell he’s talking about. “I am not.”
I mean, the man is my father, so there is bound to be some familial resemblance, but a spitting image of Dad? No fucking way.
“We are gonna have to agree to disagree on this one, Michele. But do you honestly think your dad is going to like the fact that his baby girl hangs out in the locker room with crass hockey players on a daily basis?”
“What the heck does that have to do with anything?”
“Come on, Michele, you can’t be this obtuse.” Parker chuckles, but I still can’t figure out what he’s getting at. “You know what? I’m gonna leave this one to Coach, but I promise not to say a thing about your relationship.”
“Thank you.” I smile, finally getting the answer I was looking for from him. I’ll probably still have to have a conversation with Dad, but at least the immediate threat of exposing my secret has been taken care of.
“Can we go inside now?” Parker asks, his hand resting on the locker room door, waiting patiently to push it open.
“Lead the way, boss.”
Parker’s nose scrunches in disgust as he pushes the door open and strolls inside. “Nope. That’s weird. Don’t ever call me boss again.”
I laugh loudly, the sound echoing off the walls of the currently empty locker room. I’ve spent a large part of my life hanging out in NHL locker rooms, but stepping foot inside today feels different. This isn’t just some place to sit while waiting for Dad to finish coaching or to do my homework when my sister didn’t want to babysit. This is now my sanctuary. A place where I can live out my biggest dream and help players become the best versions of themselves. Okay, that last one was a little more dramatic than I was looking for, but I’m sure you get the idea.
This locker room belongs to me just as much as Dad. It’s a place I would love nothing more than to share with him, but I have a feeling that won’t happen for a very long time. I know he’ll come around eventually and accept that being a part of the training team is what I want for my life, but it won’t be easy. I have just as much to prove to everyone on the training team as I do to my dad. It won’t be easy, but I’m more than up for the job.
I follow Parker to the right and into the athletic training room. Directly through the door in front of us is a gigantic wall painted the same emerald green color as the team jerseys, and the logo, a gigantic wolf layered over two hockey sticks, is in the center. Tucked into the left corner of the room are four large cold treatment baths and an oversized ice maker just waiting to be put to use. To the left of the baths is a row of rehab benches, while the opposite wall is lined with cabinets, probably filled with everything we could need to take care of the players.
“And here is where the magic happens,” Parker announces, dropping his bag onto the taping benches that sit back to back and run down the center of the room.
“Not bad.”
“Not bad? That’s all you have to say?”
“Okay, fine. This place is freaking awesome!” I exclaim, pointing toward the machine sitting in the back right corner. “Is that an ultrasound machine?”
“It is.” Parker puffs out his chest in pride. “We can assess and diagnose anything that doesn’t involve an MRI or CT scan right here in the training room. It eliminates a lot of trips to the emergency room after games, that’s for sure.”
“Wow.” I was going for something a little more articulate, but that’s the only word my brain could think of. This training room is like the perfect candy store. Almost every piece of equipment I could ask for is right here at my fingertips. “I’m really going to fucking like working here.”
“Now that you’ve seen the training room, this is where I’d usually give you a tour of the locker room, but I have a feeling you know your way around the place better than I do.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but I know my way around.” I giggle just as Parker’s phone rings.
He pulls it from his pocket, trying to discreetly check the screen before silencing it.
“You can take that if you want. I have a feeling I know who it is.” I shake my head, motioning toward the phone in his hand with my chin.
Stacey has never been one to wait. Before going to bed last night, she made me promise that I’d call her and tell her how the introductions to the team went. I doubt she even looked at the time before calling Parker, knowing damn well I would wait until I got home to tell her anything.
“Stacey,” we say in unison before laughing loudly as his phone rings again.
“Might as well answer. You can tell her all about my minor freak-out session in the hallway.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Parker smiles before turning to head out of the locker room. “Hello. Yes, she is doing just fine. I told you that you had nothing to worry about, babe.”
I shake my head as Parker leaves the main training room, walking to his office for some privacy. I take the time alone to familiarize myself with the training room, opening and closing each cabinet to check the contents. I make a mental note of what each cabinet contains, but quickly give up. Maybe Parker has put together a list of where everything is because this is way too much to memorize.
According to my welcome packet, I’m going to be one of four other people on the training staff, besides Parker, but I’m the only full-time physiotherapist on staff. There are an additional three that work on a rotating schedule during the season, but only as needed. As long as I can keep a majority of the team happy and healthy, those three will be out of a job. Not that I’m excited about someone else not having a place to work, but it ensures I have job security.
Now that I’ve looked through all the cabinets, I shrug out of my backpack and drop it to the floor before climbing onto a taping bench. And yes, I mean climb. I swear, these things should come with step stools for anyone under six feet tall like me. I scoot to the edge, swinging my legs back and forth for a few moments before stopping. I look around the room, ensuring no one saw me. How can I expect someone to take me seriously when I look like a little girl instead of a twenty-year-old physiotherapist?
I hear the distinct sound of someone coming into the locker room, but I ignore it. The only other person coming in here this early would be my dad, and I’m not ready to face him yet. Just as I look up, I notice a man with dark-colored hair tucked under a backward baseball cap and an oversized black hockey bag slung over his shoulder. I can’t see much of his body, just that he has on an oversized red sweatshirt. His head is cast down, but I notice his lips moving slightly, as if he’s talking to himself before he disappears behind the wall.
“A player this early,” I mumble, glancing down at my watch.
The arrival time for training camp isn’t for another few hours, but there are some injured players Parker and I are set to meet with before it starts. Maybe this is one of my new patients. Hopping off the bench, I head toward Parker’s office and find him still deep in conversation with Stacey.
“Talk to her, please,” he pleads, holding the phone toward me and shaking it. “Apparently, my promises that you are doing just fine aren’t enough.”
I giggle softly before grabbing the phone from his outstretched hand. I don’t even say hello before she starts rapid-firing questions. “Is he there? Did he immediately sweep you off your feet and profess his undying love for you? Or did you just walk right up to him and lay one on him? Shit, am I interrupting something? I’m so sor?—”
“OMG, Stacey. Take a breath.” She inhales loudly, but doesn’t say another word. “No, to all of your questions. Parker and I are the only ones here. Wait, that's a lie. One player just came in.”
“Which one?” Parker asks, grabbing the manila folder on the edge of his desk. “We have a few guys coming in to get taped up before the first training session, but I didn’t know we had any appointments this early.”
“I don’t know. I didn't get a good look at him. I only noticed because he walked past the training room on his way somewhere.”
“Hello. I’m still here,” Stacey screeches, causing both of us to laugh.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to ignore you. Just doing my job and everything.”
“Fine. Go be fabulous and all that jazz. But call me if you see him! I want to know everything, and I mean it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I give her a mock salute, as if she can see me. “You’ll be the first to know.”
“That’s all I ask.” Stacey giggles before saying goodbye and ending the call.
I shake my head, holding Parker’s phone out toward him. “Sorry about that. She caught me polishing the hardwood floors in the kitchen last night when I should’ve been sleeping.”
My eyes widen in horror, but Parker chimes in quickly. “Calm down. I didn’t say a thing to her about your minor freakout before walking into the locker room.”
I tip my head back and exhale loudly. “Thank fuck. She’d be stuck to me like glue, ready to fight off anyone who dared look at me funny.”
“She does it because she loves you, Michele. You know that, right?”
Stacey and Kyle have been my fiercest protectors since the day we met. Sometimes they even have to protect me from myself. My anxiety can get out of control sometimes, even with my meds, but those two are always right there to calm me down and help my issues seem a little more manageable. I love them for it, but sometimes my protectors are a little more mama bear than I’d like.
“Of course, I know that. Stacey has had my back since the day we met. She is my ride or die, and I feel the same way about her. But sometimes she can go a little overboard.”
“Trust me, I know. I’ve been threatened within an inch of my life if I let anyone so much as make you cry when you’re in this locker room.”
“You all seem to forget that I grew up in a hockey locker room. I know my brain can be an asshole sometimes, but I swear I can handle a bunch of rowdy hockey players.”