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Chapter Fourteen

Michele

“Y ou seem a little distracted today.” I jump at the sound of Parker’s voice, knocking a large stack of folded towels onto the floor.

“Fuck, Parker,” I squeak. “You shouldn’t be sneaking up on people like that. It’s a surefire way to get punched in the eye.” I smack him hard on the shoulder, causing him to laugh.

“I would agree, hence why I called your name three times before coming anywhere near you. But you were too lost in thought to hear me, I guess.”

Parker bends down and grabs an armful of my once-folded towels, dropping them onto the bench in front of us. He grabs one and starts folding, his eyes flicking to mine before he picks up another one and starts the process again.

Parker is the last person I want to talk to about what’s going on with me, but he won’t let up until I tell him something. More than likely sent on a mission by his girlfriend and my best friend to get information out of me. Stacey wasn’t too thrilled when I came home last night, grabbed Imhotep, and went right into my room. I spent a fitful night dreaming about what could’ve happened if Sammy and the other players hadn’t walked into the training room when they did.

“Does your absent-mindedness have anything to do with you being late today?”

Definitely sent by Stacey on a recon mission. Parker was in a meeting with Dad and Cooper all morning, going over the injury reports for the rookies at training camp. There was no way he’d have known that I didn’t show up on time this morning.

“Sorry. I forgot to set my alarm last night before going to bed. It was a long day.”

That wasn’t a complete lie. I forgot to set my alarm, but I woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed with the sun this morning, since I went to bed so early. Imhotep was not amused about being woken up from his peaceful slumber, a fact I’m sure he’d have told me about if he could talk.

“Ah, it happens to the best of us.” Parker smiles. “How are your first few days going? Anyone giving you a hard time?”

My hackles raise immediately, having a feeling I know what he’s trying to ask. “If you want to know if Cole is giving me a hard time, just come out and ask. No need to skate around the subject,” I retort, snapping the towel in my hand loudly before folding it quickly and adding it to the pile.

“Fine. Has Cole been giving you a hard time? I heard about the little wager you two made.”

“This place is worse than high school,” I grumble, grabbing the stack of freshly folded towels and heading for the other side of the room.

I could tell Parker that it was all my idea to get Cole motivated to follow his treatment plan, but I doubt he’d believe me. Everyone around here sees Cole as the devil incarnate?. I’d ask him, but any time I try to broach the subject of his brothers, he shuts it down immediately.

“It is, but I’m sure you knew that already.” Parker bumps my shoulder, his arm full of the towels he folded, and slides them onto a shelf just too high for me to reach. “Here, let me help you with those.”

“You guys are going to have to put things on lower shelves, or I need a step stool.”

“Or you can have one of us do it for you.” I stiffen, knowing damn well the person I’ve been trying desperately to avoid is standing behind me. My awareness of his proximity, or even when he enters a room, has been heightened since our almost kiss yesterday.

I inhale deeply, blowing the air through my nose before spinning around, my eyes landing right in the center of Cole’s chest. God, I hate being short. I place my hand in the center of his chest, my hand burning from the contact, and he takes a step back.

“There isn’t always someone around when I need to reach something. What do you expect me to do? Call you?”

“Yes,” he responds, staring down at me intently, as if he’s trying to solve a complicated puzzle.

“I think a step stool will do just fine.”

“I’ll get one ordered,” Parker responds, his eyes flicking between Cole and me before speaking again. “I was just talking to Michele about your little wager. You know it's not the best idea to threaten someone’s job to prove a point.”

“He didn’t—” I begin, but Cole cuts me off.

“I figured the higher the stakes, the more motivated she’d be to make sure I got the results I wanted.”

“If Michele says she can get it done, she can. But you need to follow her instructions to the letter. No messing around.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Cole smiles, but it seems forced. Why do I have a feeling that these two are talking about something other than his treatment plan?

“That’s good to hear.” Parker nods before looking down at me. “I’ll be in my office. We can continue this conversation when you are finished with Cole.”

“Okay,” I respond, begging Parker with my eyes not to leave, but he just smiles and heads toward his office, leaving Cole and me alone.

“Did you need something?” I ask, searching for something to keep me busy.

My eyes land on the resistance band rack tucked in the back corner. It's a mess, all the bands tangled and unorganized, making for the perfect distraction. I move to go around Cole toward the tangled mess, but his hand brushes down my arm, gripping my hand in his and pulling me to a stop.

“Why are you avoiding me?” His voice sounds gravelly, with a hint of annoyance.

“I’m not avoiding you,” I reply coolly, my eyes remaining focused on my feet in front of me.

“You didn’t show up for our session this morning. I was worried. I contemplated asking Parker for your number, but decided against it.”

“Sorry. I, umm, overslept.”

“Are you sure that’s what happened?”

I finally turn around and face him. He is in a black sleeveless workout shirt, the outline of the shoulder tape I applied yesterday after making sure he iced his shoulder properly, peeking beneath the fabric. My cheeks heat as the memory of what happened a few moments earlier filters through my mind. If Sammy hadn't walked in when he did, we would’ve been… I don’t know what we would’ve been doing. What I know is that whatever that was can’t happen again.

“Did you complete the training circuit I showed you yesterday?”

“That’s what you want to talk about right now?” His eyes search mine. There is something playful on the surface, but with something sharper beneath. A mixture of stronger emotions—frustration and maybe disappointment.

“What else is there for us to talk about that can make this situation any less awkward?” I say, arching a brow.

Cole steps closer. “Is that why you blew off our session this morning? You were afraid things were going to be awkward?”

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out because it is awkward as fuck, or rather, it should be. I’m his physiotherapist. He’s a player on the team. Not just any team, but the team my overprotective father coaches. I should want to stay as far away from him as possible. And yet I can’t stop thinking about how close we’d been last night, how easy it would have been to stop fighting this pull between us and give in.

“How am I supposed to act like nothing happened?” he asks as he leans closer. His voice is low, barely above a whisper. “Because I can’t. And judging by how fast your pulse is going right now, neither can you.”

“Cole.”

He hasn’t even touched me, at least not in any way that should have my pulse skyrocketing, but it doesn’t matter. His being in my general proximity is enough to unravel me.

“Is there a rule about us seeing where this goes?”

I sigh, resting my head against his chest. The sound of his heart beating as rapidly as mine sets me at ease. “That’s not the point. Rule or not, this can’t happen.”

“Can you give me one good reason this can’t happen when every part of my being is telling me to never let you go?”

I inhale deeply, committing his woodsy scent to memory before taking a step away from him—not because I want to, but because I have to. “You’re healing, and it’s my job to get you back on the ice as soon as possible. And I can’t do that if you’re always looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to be with me more than you want to win the Stanley Cup.”

“What if that is the truth?”

What in the actual fuck did this man just say? Did he just imply that he wants to be with me more than he wants to win the Stanley Cup? Nope, that’s not what I heard. I must need to get my ears cleaned because that’s not even humanly possible. Unless, at some point over the course of the night, he was snatched by aliens, and this is a Cole clone. But if this were a Cole clone, wouldn’t he be feeling the same things Cole should be feeling? Which means… shit, I need a distraction before I give myself a migraine.

“I need to finish cleaning up. The resistance bands won’t untangle themselves,” I squeak before spinning around and scurrying toward the bands in the corner.

I focus on the resistance band rack, meticulously organizing the tangled mess like it matters more than the heat crawling up my neck. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t turn around. I can’t, not with my mind spiralling as I try to make sense of what’s happening. Not to mention, my anxiety is through the roof. The need to clean and disinfect every surface in this room is overwhelming.

A strong hand grasps my wrist, halting my movements. “Okay, we’ll play it your way,” Cole mumbles before planting a kiss on the back of my head.

I spin around, opening and closing my mouth, trying to put into words what I’m feeling, but nothing comes out. Instead, I watch his retreating back. The heaviness in my chest doesn’t ease in the slightest because that tension still lingers—unsaid, unresolved, and very much unfinished.

* * *

I don’t see much of Cole for the rest of the day, mostly because I’m avoiding him, but also because he’s decided it is a good idea to sneak into practice. I didn’t catch him. Sammy ratted him out to me. I could've easily told Dad, but I played it off, recommending he make him run speed drills with no stick to be on the safe side.

I understand how badly he wants to get back on the ice and his need to prove himself to his brothers and my dad, but I can’t let it impede his recovery. I made a deal with him to get him as close to playing shape as possible by the end of rookie camp, and I plan to do it. I hate losing, and I really don’t want to have to quit my job, although I have a feeling Cole would have a fit if I did.

“I didn’t know you were still here.” My head snaps up to find Cole standing in the doorway, hair damp from a shower, a pair of black wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Jesus H. Christ, have I died and gone to heaven? I know Stacey warned me about the glasses, but I wasn’t prepared. “You wear glasses?”

He absent-mindedly reaches up and pushes them up his nose. “Not usually, but my contacts were bothering me. I have a long drive back to Redwood Falls tonight.”

“Redwood Falls?” I ask, my voice slightly hoarse from disuse.

“Yeah, it’s where I’m from. It’s a small town, a little over an hour south of the city. Don’t laugh, but I’ve been staying with my mom since coming back. Wanted to make sure the move was permanent before buying a place.”

“Makes sense for sure,” I respond, my eyes scanning over his body, looking for any signs that something serious might be wrong. “I’m sure your mom loves having you around.”

He has on a Timberwolves hoodie over his broad frame and a pair of grey sweatpants hanging loosely around his waist. Since his shoulder is covered, I can’t see anything out of the ordinary wrong, but there’s a tiredness in his face that doesn’t quite match his posture. He looks exhausted, like someone who’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. A part of me wonders if he has anything to help him carry the burden.

“Yeah. I didn’t come home as much as I should’ve when I joined the Wolverines about ten years ago.” He reaches up and runs his hand along the back of his neck, his eyes looking everywhere but at me.

I resist the urge to giggle at his nervousness. Cole doesn’t seem to be someone to partake in idle chitchat, let alone tell someone he barely knows something so personal about himself at the same time. Instead of brushing it off, I give him a personal bit of my own.

“I understand that. My parents live here in Portland, but I went away to college in the Midwest. They were always asking me to move back home, and now that I’m here, they insist on family dinner every couple of weeks.”

“Sounds nice.”

An awkward silence settles over us as we both fidget, searching for something else to say to each other. I’m the first one to break the silence. “I didn’t see you around the gym today.”

“I managed to find other ways to keep myself occupied and out of trouble.”

Is he avoiding me now? I did the same thing to him this morning, so it's understandable, but why does the thought hurt so much? I absentmindedly reach up and rub my chest in the space over my heart.

“That’s good. Well, hopefully you aren’t too busy to meet me here for your training session in the morning.”

Bless it. Can I be any more awkward? Cole should run in the opposite direction and beg Parker to take over his case immediately. I grab an antiseptic wipe and start wiping down the bench in front of me. I just cleaned almost the entire room from top to bottom, trying to waste time to see if he’d stop in to see me before leaving, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“How’s your shoulder? Since I missed our session this morning, the least I can do is give you a once-over just in case.”

I’ve completely lost my fucking mind. I’m going to have to touch him to look over his shoulder. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since we almost kissed in this very room. Although there isn’t a chance of us being interrupted this time. The only person potentially in the building is my dad, but his office is clear on the other side of the locker room. The only reason he’d have to come here is to look for Parker, but they had a meeting earlier today. He also has no idea I’m still in the building, which is both a blessing and a curse at the moment.

“That’d be great. It’s a little tender. I may have overworked it today.”

You think? If he did the training exercises and strength training in his treatment plan, along with the pumping of his arms he did while doing speed drills, his shoulder is probably on fire, but I can’t say any of that to him. Sammy swore me to secrecy, and hopefully, this teaches Cole a lesson about pushing himself too hard.

Cole moves cautiously toward me, like he isn’t sure how to act around me since our talk earlier today. That makes two of us, buddy. He says we can play it my way, but what exactly does that mean? The part where I’m too terrified of getting my heart broken and ruining both of our lives to take the next step? Or did he mean something else? Either way, it’s only going to get harder to resist him from this point forward. I know in my heart Cole won’t push me, but I have a feeling if I want anything to happen between us, it’s going to have to be on my terms.

I grab a pair of gloves and pat the table in front of me. “Hop up.”

Cole quickly follows my instructions, shifting around slightly until he finds a comfortable position before pulling his hoodie over his head. “Do you need me to take off my T-shirt, as well?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind.” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and bite back a moan as he pulls the last layer of clothing off. This man’s body is pure perfection.

Cole clears his throat loudly as I snap to attention. “Sorry.”

“No apologies necessary. Look as much as you want.” I don’t need a mirror to know I’m blushing, but I inhale and gently probe his incision, moving with practiced precision to check the muscles surrounding his shoulder. I try to keep everything professional, not getting lost in his hazel eyes as they swirl with want and desire.

Cole just watches me, not in a leering way; he just watches. His eyes scan my face as if he’s trying to solve a complex puzzle. “I’ve noticed you don’t talk much.”

“Small talk isn’t my specialty,” he murmurs, causing me to giggle softly.

“Fair. I also probably talk enough for both of us.”

“I like hearing you talk.” I freeze, my hand still pressing against his shoulder.

I glance at him and find him smiling softly down at me, his face the picture of ease while my mind races a million miles a minute. “No one has ever said that to me before. I wouldn’t say that I talk a lot regularly, but I ramble when I get nervous.”

“Are you nervous now?” he asks, reaching up and grabbing the end of my ponytail. He tugs on it slightly, and I moan. His pupils dilate at the sound.

“Yes. You make me very nervous,” I respond. His legs widen, allowing my body to slip between them. I bite my bottom lip, turning my head downward to hide my face from Cole.

I know I’m giving him mixed signals, telling him we can’t do this and then moaning like a whore in church the first time he touches me. I should put some much-needed space between us and apologize again for stepping out of line, but Cole must see something in my face because his knees snap shut, pinning me between them.

“You make me very nervous, too,” he whispers, nibbling and sucking his way down my neck, causing me to moan loudly. My back arches, pressing my breasts into his chest as he wraps his arms tightly around my waist, pulling me tighter to him.

“Cole.” I place my hand on his chest, putting some much-needed space between us. “Not here. Not now.”

“Then when, Michele?” His eyes clench shut as he rests his forehead against mine.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Cole.”

My mind is so confused right now. I need time to think. Before today, I wasn’t scared of whatever this connection is between us, and now I’m terrified. I’ve never been an impulsive person. I’ve had a plan for my life laid out in my journal since I was a teenager. Each major milestone was checked off as I accomplished it, but now, I’ve reached the end of the list. I have my dream job, but now what? I didn’t think past this part of the plan until now. Now what do I do?

“Say it again.”

“What?”

Goose bumps ripple down my arms at the rough edge of his voice. He pulls me closer, his body heat pressing against me. The hard line of his cock is unmistakable, even through the thin fabric of his sweats. Fuck. This would be so much easier if he weren’t touching me.

“My name,” he murmurs, his lips close enough to brush my cheek. “Say it again.”

“Cole,” I whisper, the name catching on a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

My thighs clench involuntarily, tension coiling low in my belly. I need something, anything, to relieve some of the tension in my body. What the hell is he doing to me? He hasn’t even kissed me yet, and my entire body is ready to combust. As if I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, one gust away from free-falling.

He rests his hand on my cheek, his thumb tracing the edge of my jaw like he’s memorizing it. “I said I’d move at your pace. I meant it. But if you don’t want this—us—say it now.”

My eyes flutter shut, leaning into the warmth of his touch. God, I want to say yes. I want to lose myself in him, to forget everything else for just one night. But I can’t—not when everything I’ve worked for, everything he’s built, hangs in the balance.

“If we cross this line now, there is no going back.” My voice is barely audible. “One wrong move, and it could cost us everything. Our jobs. Our reputations. The future we’ve both fought so damn hard for.”

He doesn’t flinch. If anything, he draws even closer, his forehead nearly resting against mine. “Too late. At least for me. I crossed that line the moment I saw you in the therapy center, which feels like a lifetime ago. I knew at that moment you were mine. I’m just waiting for you to catch up.”

My throat tightens. “You barely know me.”

“Then tell me. Everything. Let me earn it, piece by piece.”

A beat of silence stretches between us, thick with everything unsaid. This is freaking bonkers. This doesn’t happen to people in real life, especially people like me. A part of me is looking for a metaphysical break I can hit to slow things down, but a much larger part is ready to let myself fall. But I’ve never been too good at just falling. My need for control outweighs everything else.

“Aren’t you scared?” I whisper.

“Shitless,” he admits. “But I’d rather risk everything and have you... than play it safe and never know what we could’ve been.”

His words hang in the air between us, raw and vulnerable. I want to believe them. I want to fall into them. I want to give a man I barely know my heart and beg him to protect it. But wanting something and making it a reality are not the same thing.

My heart twists painfully as I pull back, just a fraction, but enough for his hand to slip from my cheek. The loss in his eyes cuts me deeper than I expect.

“I want this, too, Cole. More than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.” My voice shakes, and I hate how small it sounds. “But wanting doesn’t change what’s at stake.”

His jaw tightens, his hands curling at his sides like he’s holding himself back. “So what, then? We just keep pretending this isn’t happening?”

My eyes brim with tears as I try to explain my worries to him. “I think you know exactly how dangerous this is. How one whisper, one headline, one photo taken at the wrong time could unravel everything we’ve worked for.”

“I don’t care?—”

“Well, I do!” I snap, the words sharper than I mean them to be. His eyes flash with surprise, then something that looks like hurt. “I do care, Cole. Because this isn’t just about us. It’s about our careers. Our dreams. The years we’ve sacrificed to get where we are. If this goes wrong… we don’t just lose each other. We might lose everything.”

My heart aches knowing there’s no way to explain how much this will affect him if anyone finds out. Cole will not only lose his position on the Timberwolves, but if Dad has anything to do with it, he’ll lose his chances of ever playing in the NHL again, too. I know this is an enormous secret to keep from him, but I have to wait for the right time. To be sure that whatever this is between us will last before bringing up my dad. It will be safer for both of us that way.

He takes a step back, his gaze locked on mine, intense and unreadable. “So that’s it? You’re walking away?”

“No,” I whisper. “I’m standing still. Because the moment I move—toward you—I won’t be able to stop.”

His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, like he’s fighting the same war inside his head. He looks at me like I’m already gone, and it cracks something in me.

“I need time to think. To breathe. To be sure that when I choose you, I’m not destroying us.”

He nods slowly, every muscle in his body held tight like a man resisting the urge to chase. “Take your time, Michele. But know this—whatever you decide, I’m not going anywhere.”

I turn to leave, and with every step away from him, my body protests. My heart begs me to turn back. But my mind—the part that’s terrified of falling too fast, too hard—keeps me walking toward the training room door and pushing through. And when the door shuts softly behind me, it feels like something else might be closing, too. Something I’m not sure I’ll be brave enough to open again.