Page 8 of Falling for the Orc All-Star

But all she has to do is look at me sideways, and I’m on fire with a mix of desire to impress her—and just plain desire. Oh, and let’s not forget a new feeling—rejection. That really fucking burns.

“Yes! The team loves you. The fans love you. You didn’t die, you just busted your knee. You’re part of the team, and the team sticks together. No hiding in self-pity.”

“Listen, I—” Anger sparks in me. Torrey’s a nice guy, but he’s... Content. He has drive, but in a cozy little spectrum. I think he’s been the coach for the last twelve years, and as long as we win steadily, he’s happy. He’s never entertained an offer from a major league, even though I heard Philly once offered him an assistant coaching position. Never told us to play cutthroat to win. I don’t think he gets that this injury isn’t giving me self-pity, it’s giving me “my career is over.”

“No, no. I shouldn’t have said that. Of course, you’re upset. This season was going to be big for you. But King, you’re a tank. A strong, young, healthy tank. Years on the ice, and you’ve never had so much as a busted knuckle. That’s rarer than hen’s teeth.”

“Exactly.” I bite my tongue. I’m sure he knows I was looking to leave. It’s just that we never really talked about it, and talking about it now in some doctor’s office isn’t the right time or place.

Coach Torrey continues, voice quiet and firm. “You practice like you’re going to play.”

“I’m not going to be playing much of anything for a long, long time.”

“But you have to keep going. I believe you’ll be back, not just because you have the bones for it, but because you have the heart for it. King of the Rink. You love this game.”

That’s it. I love this game. I loved this game because it was something I could be good at, something that would have given me a career that still had some kind of meaning.

I’m not like other Orcs, the ones who have a day job but long to get back to the land, farming, hunting, tending the woods, fishing...

I’ll hike, but only if you push me.

If I don’t play hockey... I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who I am. I don’t fit in with the rest of the Orcs in my clan... I don’t have other passions. Me and hockey. That’s been my only relationship for the last five years, especially since my parents went back to Scotland.

Fuck, I’m a mess. And this wasn’t supposed tohappen. Not yet. I wasn’t supposed to get to this point in my life until I was rich enough to ignore it. Those bigger leagues were going to open bigger doors. Like... I don’t know. Endorsements. Assistant coaching. Coaching. Managing. Maybe even team ownership one day. But all of that was supposed to happen when I was in my thirties. Hell, with Orc strength, maybe it was supposed to happen in my forties. I put my head in my hand and massage my temples. The back of my head still pounds every so often.

“I don’t know what to do if I’m not playing,” I suddenly confess. “Sitting there watching is going to kill me.”

“No, it’s going to make you stronger. Sometimes in life, you have to hold others up.”

“I’m too weak to even holdmyselfup. I don’t even know how to use the damn crutches,” I say, and to my horror, my voice cracks.

“Well... I’ve been on them a time or two. Half the guys on the team have. We’ll help you learn.”

Kings don’t need help.

“I’m not supposed to need help,” I whisper, that stupid voice crack more magnified this time.

“You hit your head harder than I thought, boy. We all need help, and if you don’t think being there for your teammates helps, you’d better have your noggin x-rayed. You’re never on the bench. The chance to have King Silverbow cheering for them? Are you kidding? That’s going to be a career highlight for some of these guys.”

Something taps my shoulder, and I jump. I can’t believe I didn’t even hear her leave her desk, but suddenly, the spitfire who gives new meaning to the words “curvy” is standing next to me.

She doesn’t look upset.

“Sorry, I’m getting the paperwork emailed to me,” I whisper, putting the phone to my chest.

“Oh, take your time. Um. I can help you with the crutches. Dr. Bailey and I can help you. That little demonstration I gave wasn’t the best, but I’ll have some time after the doctor sees you. Um. Maybe we could practice after your session and... get something from the new Italian place in the shopping center?”

My jaw hits my collarbone, and I nod like an awestruck groupie. Believe me, I’m familiar with that look. “Thank you.”

I hear Coach chuckling. “Someone has a fan?” he says.

I’m pretty sure Ingrid can hear it, too.

I don’t know if I can resuscitate any of my confidence or smoothness right now, but I try to work up a sexy smile as I reply, “Oh, she sure does.”

Chapter Five: Ingrid and King

Okay. So, that smile?