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Chapter Eleven

Cole

I watch Michele as she leaves without looking back, and I hate it bothers me. It shouldn’t bother me. She’s just a girl I flirted with for one day, right? Wrong. She’s the girl I haven’t been able to stop obsessing over for weeks. And now she’s my new physiotherapist. When Remy told me to behave, I had no idea it was going to be impossible, especially with Michele being here.

The minute the click of the door closing behind her echoes through the locker room, I’m on my feet. “Fuck!” I shout, grabbing my pads and throwing them into my locker.

My fist clench and unclench as I try to make sense of what the fuck just happened. Jaw tight, heart hammering like I just got checked into the boards. Hard. And the wind knocked right out of me.

Michele. Of all the people in this goddamn city, she had to be my physiotherapist? I guess the team really is working on protecting their investment if I have a private physio, not that I’m complaining. Just the thought of her touching someone else makes my blood boil in my veins. I drag a hand down my face and lean forward on my knees, shoulder aching from the assessment, but not as much as the tightness in my chest. Not as much as the fact that I saw the flinch she tried to hide when I called her a mistake. That was a low blow and completely unfair of me to say, but hell if I know how else to protect myself from her and the damage she could do to both my heart and career.

Is Stacey really your friend?

What the actual fuck was I thinking? Out of all the things I could’ve said to the girl I haven’t been able to stop thinking about, I chose that? It was a stupid question for sure, but I needed to know if Michele was the real deal. I don’t doubt that she is an amazing physiotherapist. She has to be to have gotten a position here, but she also works for the team. It wouldn’t be the first time that a team wanted to do some recon on an incoming player. They shelled out a pretty large amount of money to buy me out of my contract with Boise and to pay me my insanely large salary for the next two years. It makes sense that they’d confirm anything they’d heard themselves. Logically, I know this, but it still fucking stings.

I was so sure she was just a spy for the team, and what happened between us that day was nothing more than Michele doing her job, but then she hit me with Which one? Like she had no idea who Cooper was. Was she genuinely confused, or was it just another part of her act? If it was just another part of her act, get that woman an Academy Award. But that means that if Michele didn’t know… maybe she really wasn’t faking the flirting, and now I’ve fucked things up before they’ve even started.

I let out a bitter laugh, stand, and grab my shirt from my bag before shoving it over my head, wincing when it tugs at my shoulder. I knew before I even walked into this locker room I wasn’t ready to get back on the ice, not even close, but I’ve mastered the art of being okay because I have to.

“Penny for your thoughts?” My head pops up as I come face to face with the head athletic trainer, Parker.

“No,” I growl, turning around and grabbing my bag off the floor in front of my locker. I need something to take the edge off, something to help me shove Michele back into the compartment of my mind that’s off limits.

“Cole.” Parker sighs, dropping onto the bench beside me. “We aren’t your enemy here.”

“Could’ve fooled me. I already got a clean bill of health, and now you and Trainer Barbie are keeping me off the ice for no reason.”

The minute the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. I’ve never disrespected a woman in my life until now. But there is something about the way she waltzed out of here—cool, composed, all business—and somehow still the one person who ever made me feel like more than just a name on the back of a jersey. Like I was real. That might be because she knew nothing about me besides my first name, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“I’m going to let that comment slide because I understand how frustrating this might be, but you will not disrespect Michele like that again.”

I don’t need to look at Parker to know he means business. I could tell by the way those two interacted earlier that she means something to him. Hopefully, as nothing more than a friend, not that I have a say in who she spends time with. I just really don’t want to get kicked off the team before I even have the chance to play.

I reach up and run my hand through my hair, trying to think of just the right thing to say to smooth things over. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“I know, which is why I gave you this one warning. I suggest you take it to heart.”

Great, first day in the locker room and already on someone’s shit list. Instead of responding, I just nod.

Parker slaps me on the back before pushing to his feet. “Glad we had this chat. Remember, Michele is waiting for you in the training room. If I were you, I wouldn’t keep her waiting.”

I rest my elbows on my knees, staring at the floor, trying to breathe through the storm rising under my ribs. I need to get my shit together and figure out a way to coexist with Michele. Judging by Parker’s reaction, she isn’t going anywhere, and neither am I, especially if I ever want a shot at the Cup.

* * *

“Do you have any questions?” Michele asks, her head turned down, looking at her tablet.

I have about a million and one questions running through my mind: Has she been thinking about me as much as I’ve been thinking about her? Did she wish she had said yes to our date? Does she want to say fuck it and let me kiss her? But none of them are appropriate when we're alone in the locker room.

“You the one in charge of keeping me off the ice?” I ask dryly.

Her head snaps up, her eyes narrowing. “I’m the one in charge of making sure you can stay on the ice. Long-term. Is that going to be a problem?”

Yes. It’s going to be an enormous problem, but again, I don’t say that out loud. As far as Michele is concerned, I’m just another player she has to deal with. A job and a means to an end. What I should do is make things easier on her, but I don’t have time to waste on the slow and steady rehab pace she set in her plan. I need to ensure I make it back on the ice as soon as possible. The only way to do that is to push myself to the limit, but I have a feeling Michele won’t like that very much.

“I don't need my hand held. I know what my body can handle. Just give me some stretches to do so Parker and Coach are happy, and we can be on our way.”

“I could, or you could just let me do my damn job, Cole.”

Fuck. Just hearing her say my name does things to my body that I don’t have time to think about. Being stuck in this room with her for weeks while we follow this long, drawn-out rehab plan is going to be pure torture.

“Yeah, your job,” I snark, hopping off the training table and heading toward the door. “Thanks for the reminder. I’ve come back from worse without anyone’s help before, and I can do it again now.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Michele responds calmly.

Her face is the picture of ease. No sign of distress or annoyance. And it’s pissing me the fuck off. Ever since she walked into the locker room and smiled at me, my mind has been a complete and utter wreck.

“I always have a choice,” I respond through clenched teeth. “I’ve done all of my healing alone since I was a little kid. I know my body and what it’s capable of.”

Michele rolls her eyes, huffing loudly as she places her tablet on the bench in front of her. “Fine. I concede.”

“That was too easy.” I cross my arms and eye her skeptically.

I’ve never had anyone give in to me that quickly. Usually, I need to come up with a long list of multiple reasons they should see it my way. But this time, I didn’t need any of that. Michele saw things my way almost instantly. She has to be up to something.

She giggles, and the sound goes right to my dick. “I agree, you know what your body is capable of better than anyone else. You live in your skin daily.”

“So, that’s it?”

“That’s it.” She holds her hand for a handshake, and I grasp it in mine, the sense of triumph settling over me.

But it was premature. She quickly changes her grip, locking her thumb with mine and wrapping her fingers around the top of my hand, pulling me toward her. A sharp pain shoots through my bicep, and a burning, stabbing pain settles into my shoulder, radiating down the rest of my arm.

Michele smirks up at me, a look of mild satisfaction resting on her face. “You can’t even handle a woman half your size pulling your arm without pain. What makes you think you can take a hit on the ice?”

I pull my hand from hers, the burning sensation definitely something I won’t be able to ignore for too long.

“Want something for that?”

“Nah. I’m good.” I attempt to rotate my shoulder but stop mid-movement. The pain is almost enough to buckle my knees, but I remain upright. The last thing I want to let her know is how much pain I’m in, although a part of me has a feeling she already knows.

“You’re going to be nothing but trouble, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She smiles brightly, holding her hand out toward me. “You can’t rehab like someone’s chasing you on the ice. It’s not a race. It’s not a flex. It’s biology.”

My eyes flick down, noticing the two pills in her hand. I don’t even bother to ask her what they are before swiping them from her and popping them into my mouth, swallowing them down. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything, only shakes her head before striding to the water cooler in the corner.

My eyes remain focused on the sway of her ample hips as she reaches for a cup on the top of the water cooler. “That’s good. Who did you steal that from, or was it in one of your fancy textbooks?”

She shakes her head, bending slightly to fill the cup before striding toward me. “I know a thing or two about stubborn athletes who think having a high pain tolerance is the same as healing.”

“Sounds like you’ve spent a lot of time around hockey players.” I lift my hand, hesitating for a moment before brushing a few strands of her bangs back into place.

Her breath hitches, her body swaying slightly toward me before she catches herself and takes a step back. I have a feeling my new physio is not as unaffected by me as she was originally letting on. Now, this is something I can work with.

She thrusts the cup into my hand before turning to grab her tablet off the training table beside me. Her eyebrows pull down in concentration, and adorable wrinkles form between them. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me, and when did I start calling things adorable, especially a freaking wrinkle on someone’s face?

I shake my head as her eyes flick to mine before going back to the screen. “Here's the deal. You push too fast, you’ll tear it again. You tear it again, and your career’s done.”

“How many times do I need to explain that I can't wait around? The team paid a shit ton of money to get me out of my current contract and is taking a chance on me. I have to prove to them it was all worth it.”

Michele doesn’t flinch at my admission, further proving that she must have known what was going on with me when we met, but she couldn’t fake her reaction to my touch. Things between us may have originally started out as just a job, but at some point, the lines may have blurred on her end. Either way, I think trying to find a way to break down the walls Michele has put between us is going to be fun.

“Who said anything about waiting, Hendrix? I’ll come up with a plan to get you back on the ice with limited contact by the end of rookie camp.”

“But—”

That isn’t enough. Not only am I fighting for a place on the ice against veterans on the team, but I have rookies to compete with, too. They are younger, faster, and have many more years in them on the ice. I don’t expect to retire anytime soon, but after any major injury, you never know how much time your body will give you to play. And although I doubt any of them want a chance at the Cup more than me, who knows what the coaching staff is thinking?

“But nothing, Hendrix. I’ll give you the plan. You follow it. No solo skates. No extra lifts. No testing limits unless I give you the okay.”

I’ve never been good at taking instructions from anyone, but something about the authoritative tone in her voice is doing very strange things to my body that I don’t have the time or bandwidth to unpack. But unlucky for her, I can give just as much as I get, if not more.

I take a step closer to her, forcing her to look up at me. Her breath hitches, and her pupils dilate. A look of pure longing settles on her face as I lean down beside her ear and whisper, “Or what?”

“Or I tell the coaching staff you’re not ready,” she responds breathlessly, placing her hand in the center of my chest. It tightens on my shirt, pulling me closer as she rises on her toes. “I have the final say on whether you set foot on the ice as a Timberwolf or get sent packing.”

My body stiffens before I let out a loud, boisterous laugh, my shoulder shaking as I drop my forehead to hers and smile. “This round goes to you, Trouble.”

“I play to win, Hendrix. The quicker you learn that, the better things will be for both of us.” She winks before releasing my shirt and stepping away from me. “Now go get your shit and meet me in the weight room. We don’t want to waste any time, right?”

“Right.” I chuckle, giving her a mock salute. “What’s first?”

“Mobility work. Stability drills. Isometrics. We build the base, or we build nothing at all.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I wink at her before spinning on my heels and heading back into the locker room.

There are a few people milling around, some faces I’ve seen while playing in the league, but most of them are brand new. I should stop and chat with a few of them, build rapport, but right now, my mind has a single focus: change and get to the weight room to spend more time with Michele.

I make quick work of changing out of my jeans and pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants. I turn to head to the weight room to meet Michele when I notice the last person I want to see right now push through the locker room doors: my big brother.

Cooper strides toward us, getting stopped by every player he makes eye contact with. Everyone is fawning over him, as usual. The golden boy, the superstar, the person everyone wants to be like when they step on the ice. Too bad I know the truth. He’s a piece of shit who does anything he can to control those around them, playing them like puppets. He showers them with praise until they dare do something he doesn’t like or agree with, then he throws them away like trash.

“Holy shit, I thought I’d have some time to prepare myself before seeing Cooper Hendrix in the flesh.”

“Why? He’s no one special,” I mumble under my breath, glancing down at the owner of the voice seated on the bench beside me. “He puts his skates on one foot at a time, just like the rest of us.”

My eyes remain focused on Cooper as he inches closer, no doubt wanting to give me some word of warning about not embarrassing him or something.

“Yeah. Whatever you say, bro,” he scoffs before looking up at me, his eyes widening in surprise. His mouth opens and closes before he points toward me and then to Cooper. “You’re…and he is…”

I’d laugh if this wasn’t the most fucked-up situation I’ve been in recently. “Close your mouth before you embarrass yourself...” I pause, waiting for him to supply his name.

“Samuel. Patrick Samuel, but everyone usually calls me Sammy, sir.”

“Don’t fucking call me sir. Sir is my—” My breath hitches, but I push through the sharp pain shooting through my chest. “Just don’t call me that. I’m Cole.”

I hold my hand toward him, and he grips it in his, giving it a firm shake. The slight ache in my shoulder from Michele’s stunt earlier causes me to wince slightly. “Sorry. Is that your bad shoulder? I didn’t mean to hurt you. Do you need me to get a trainer? I can just run right into the training room.”

Sammy jumps to his feet, ready to rush to the training room, but I grab his shoulder and force him back down on the bench. “No need. I came to grab my stuff and head to the weight room. I have a session with my physio today.”

Sammy opens his mouth to respond, but only squeaks, his eyes widening as he looks at someone over my shoulder. Judging by his reaction, I don’t have to turn around to know who it is.

“How’s it going, Cole?” There’s a slight hesitation in his voice, but nothing to make anyone wonder what the tension is between us.

I don’t respond, just grunt, before turning to look him in the eyes. A silence settles over the locker room. No doubt, everyone is looking to see how things are going to go down between the two of us.

“Haven’t you ever seen two brothers in the same locker room before?” I yell, waiting patiently for everyone to get back to whatever they were doing. When no one moves, I speak again. “Nothing to see here, ladies. Please continue whatever BS ritual you were going through to ensure your success during training today.”

That seems to get everyone moving, although a few of them continue glancing at us just to make sure nothing gossip-worthy is happening. God damn, you’d think we were a couple of teenage girls and not professional hockey players. Although some days, I’m not sure there is really much of a difference between us and them besides our ages.

“Still have a flair for the dramatic, I see.” Cooper doesn’t smile or even blink, his eyes searching my face for something.

“What are you doing here, Cooper? It’s called rookie camp for a reason.”

“Can’t I just come by to check up on my little brother?”

“You mean more like spy on.” I sigh, not wanting to get into this with him here, especially not now with everyone watching. “Have you met my locker buddy, Sammy?”

Sammy’s entire face lights up as he holds his hand out. Cooper grips it in his, flashing him one of his patented smiles. “Hello, Mr. Hendrix. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Cooper is fine.” His eyes flick toward me as he raises his eyebrow, but I shrug.

I don’t know anything about this kid other than his name and the fact that he seems to have a locker next to mine. And that he seems to be obsessed with my brother. If Beau had stopped by for a surprise visit, I think his head may have exploded. If he doesn’t get this shit under control, there’s no way he’s going to have a chance at being on the ice with any of them.

“Good luck during rookie week. Coach Mercer is a hardass, but he’s fair. Follow his instructions, and you have a real shot at becoming someone someday.” Cooper pulls his hand from Sammy’s grasp. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to have a chat with Cole before practice starts.”

“Yes, no problem. I need to get my ankles taped, anyway.” Sammy pushes to his feet, unsure of how to proceed.

“Ask for Parker. Let him know Cooper asked him to get you situated.”

“Of course, Mr.—I mean, Cooper.” Sammy beams at him before striding past us and disappearing around the corner toward the training room.

Cooper drops into Sammy’s now-vacant spot on the bench, motioning for me to take the seat next to him. “I’m all right. I’ll stand.”

“Suit yourself. How are you?”

I scoff, crossing my arms as I look down at him. He looks rundown and beaten, nothing like the dominating person who attempted to rule my life when I was sixteen years old, but I know better. People don’t change; only their circumstances do.

“Can we skip the fucking small talk? If you are waiting for me to thank you, don’t hold your breath.”

“No. I wouldn’t expect that from you.” Cooper pauses, his hands open and closing before he sighs and continues speaking. “I did what I had to do. You might not like it or appreciate it, but you weren’t going to get a chance at ice time anywhere else. I figured you’d rather play than rot on injured reserve.”

I grit my teeth, the muscle in my jaw pulsing. “I would’ve rather earned it.”

Cooper looks up at me, his eyes imploring me to listen to what he has to say, raking a hand through his hair. “ You did earn it, Cole. You’ve got the talent. You’ve always had it. I just convinced them to give you a chance. That's what big brothers are supposed to do.”

“It’s a little too fucking late, Cooper. You don’t get to be my big brother now. You had your chance.”

A big brother wouldn’t have let a year pass before he even tried to talk to me. A big brother would’ve apologized for trying to force me to do what he wanted. A big brother would have apologized for not listening to what I had to say. A big brother wouldn’t have killed our father. Cooper hasn’t been my big brother in years, and if I’m being honest, I’m not sure if he ever was.

Cooper shakes his head before pushing to his feet. “I never stopped being your brother.”

“Yeah? Funny, I don’t remember you asking me what I wanted to do. Didn’t hear from you when Boise started fucking around with my contract two years ago. But now suddenly you can’t wait to give me a handout so everyone thinks you're a magnanimous being? Willing to let your fuck-up brother wear your team’s jersey?

Cooper flinches but doesn’t back down. Stepping forward so we are nose to nose, he says, “You think this is about ego? This team needs you, Cole. And whether or not you want to admit it, you need a fresh start. We both do.”

Cooper wraps his arm around my shoulder, trying to pull me in for a one-armed hug, but I shove him hard in the chest. “ Don’t pretend this is some grand reunion. I’m here, and I don’t plan on wasting this chance, no matter how I got it. But you need to stay the fuck away from me.”

I reach past him and grab my duffle off the floor, swinging it over my good shoulder and heading toward the door. Everyone in the locker room scrambles, trying to pretend like they weren't just listening to the entire exchange, but I don’t give a flying fuck.

Right now, I need to put as much space as possible between Cooper and me. I know Michele asked me to meet her in the weight room to get started, but right now, I don’t feel much like doing anything besides taking a few more of my red pills and pretending that everything isn’t as fucked up as it seems.