Page 4 of Falling for the Orc All-Star

Bryce AKA Furball: The appointment is at three.

I look at the phone.

It’s two. If I start moving now, I might be able to get there in time...

Bryce AKA Furball: I’m on my way over now in case you need help. Do you need help?

King: I said no. Be out in a minute.

Chapter Three: Ingrid

“Mom... Mom! I’ll be happy to drive to Baltimore for Thanksgiving Day with you. No, Dad doesn’t mind. He’s going to visit Stacey’s son in New Hampshire. What? Yes, technically, that’s close to New York, but it’s not like he’s going to bring Stacey over to my little townhouse when she’s finally getting to see Jeff and the twins. A favorite stepdaughter is not going to compete with the awesome power of first grandbabies.”

Kev looks over me and waves his hand.

I raise my pen with a giant fake daisy on it. That’s the signal to save me.

“Ingrid! We’ve got a critical patient coming in.”

“Mom, I have to go! We’ll talk about Thanksgiving later. No, I will not be bringing a plus-one. That ship has not just sailed; I scuttled it. Torpedoed it. Sank it and danced on the wreckage.”

“Ingrid!”

“Gotta go!” I hang up the phone and look at Dr. Kevin Bailey, my work bestie. We have a symbiotic relationship. I handle the patients in reception at the Pine Ridge Hospital Outpatient Annex, where the hospital’s physical therapy department is, and he treats them. I also save him from the evils of technology and diag codes, and he saves me from my chatty mother (or father) as needed.

“Critical patient?” I arch one eyebrow at the handsome physical therapist in his green polo shirt with PR OHA emblazoned on the bicep and the leg of his gray mesh shorts. “My motherdoesknow that I work in the physical therapy department, not the emergency room. No one’s coming in bleeding out from rotator cuff troubles.”

“Actually, we do have a pretty critical patient—to Pine Ridge. King Silverbow’s going to be in here three times a week, maybe more.”

That name sounds familiar, but I’m not sure why. “Who?”

“The hockey player! The all-star? Man, we need to get him back on the ice before the end of the season, but he’s got a really bad MCL tear. Almost bisected.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. The team is counting on him, he’s counting on us, and... he’s also a friend of a friend of Marina’s, so...”

Kev’s wife, Marina, is super sweet, and she spoils us rotten. She’s also the reason my diets keep failing. Any time she hears of a dessert made of peanut butter and chocolate, she tries it, and we’re the taste testers. “Well, I’ll make sure he’s comfortable. Hopefully, they have him on something to help with the pain.”

“I’m not worried about the pain as much as the attitude. Marina says he can be kind of... cocky.”

“Well, good. Maybe he needs to be cocky to get through this and recover. Sometimes those ‘I’m tough and I won’t be beaten’ types are the ones who push through and get the most out of therapy.”

“True. I’m just hoping he’s not the ‘I can push through the pain and reinjure myself’ type.”

“Here’s hoping. I’ll get him ready for you when he arrives.”

King Silverbow is tall. With huge shoulders. As in, he fills the doorway of the office, and our office doorway is already big. He thumps and staggers in with a scowl, using his crutches wrong. He’s got them in straight parallel lines with his body, trying to support his weight with his underarms instead of letting the weight travelthrough the arms and wrists. “I have an appointment to get my knee fixed,” he snarls.

“Sure thing. Mr. Silverbow? Have a seat.” I point to the loveseat in the office and rise. “Is this your first time on crutches?” I ask sympathetically. We don’t have any other patients at the moment, so I come around the desk and bring the tablet with me, screen ready for him to put in his information.

He nods. Well, he jerks his head.

Why is he so huge? That jaw... That’s like an Easter Island Head-sized jaw. And the hair. It’s a riot of wet black ringlets, like he stuck his head under the sink to wash his hair.

Probably can’t manage the shower.

I am 100% not thinking about the new, ginormous patient in the shower.