Page 20 of Goalie Secrets

“What do you mean?”

“He’s all about consistent care but isn’t on top of the recent testing protocols,” she discloses hesitantly. “It works for most patients, but for ex-athletes like Eric…” Sabrina trails off. For the first time since I met this sociable woman, she appears guarded. “Anyway, since we’re on the subject of athletes, I made a change to your afternoon schedule.”

I shrug nonchalantly, happy to concede my appointments to Sabrina’s discretion. I’ve been at the mercy of her scheduling, and she has neither overbooked nor left me out of the loop.

“It’s Jeremy,” she says timidly. “Jeremy Lopez.”

I do a shitty job of hiding my surprise and annoyance. Sabrina inhales deeply before launching into an explanation.

“He warned me that you might not want to see him. And if that’s still the case, I’ll cancel it right now. But I saw an opportunity in your schedule that matched with his training, so I put him in, knowing how much he benefited from the one time you saw him. He said he made a shitty first impression but wasn’t clear about what. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I say curtly. In fact, I would like to erase it from memory.

Since he dropped me off at home last week, I’ve softened to the idea of starting over. Besides, he’s my neighbor with whom I am required—as per neighborhood protocols—to share a wave when we find ourselves outside and across the street. Shutting him out at work would make things awkward. Propriety and the demands of research make it impossible to completely avoid Jeremy.

“I can honestly and confidently say that Jeremy wouldn’t hurt a fly. But if he was unprofessional in any way…”

“It’s fine. I’ll see him,” I interrupt.

“Great! Thank you, whew. I was worried you’d be upset at me.”

“Not at all.” It’s true. Sabrina was looking out for her friend and doing her job. I don’t blame her. I’m not annoyed at her at all.

I’m annoyed atmyselfbecause I cannot, in fact, wait to see him.

“What should we work on today?” Vanya asks while entering the examination room, stylus poised over an iPad she’s studying intently.

“Should I start the timer now or…” I tease.

The doctor’s head jerks up, eyes narrowed. Obviously, I’m joking. However, if her tight, stern mouth is any indication, she’s unimpressed by my comedic attempt.

“Too soon, huh,” I concede with a grin.

“Let’s do this again,” she states after a deep breath. “How are you feeling? Is there something specific we should focus on in the next hour?”

All business, as expected.

“The tightness on my hamstring came back after last night’s game. My right hip is sore, too, more than usual. Which reminds me, would you be willing to show the lead physical therapist at the Mavericks a couple of your stretches? Kyle’s worked with Lionel before. Your technique is different, though.”

“I’ll have to consult official policy. But if the practice’s medical insurance covers it, I personally wouldn’t mind.”

“Awesome. Sabrina knows the game schedule.”

“Good thing she’s in charge of my schedule, too, then.” There’s an edge of irritation to her tone.

“Are you mad that I went through her?”

“Jeremy, if I didn’t want to take you on, I wouldn’t be here.”

Her tone is indifferent; almost bored. Nothing at all like the woman who moaned over warm cookies.

“Besides, we’re creating a completely new pain managementplan,” Vanya continues. “It makes sense to involve everyone, including the Mavericks trainers.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Go ahead and lie down while I pull up the notes from last time.”

I do as I’m told, face down and shirt off. Like our previous meeting, Vanya pokes and prods to measure whatever it is she’s recording. When the massage begins, I try to relax.