Page 13

Chapter thirteen

Rebecca

Fucking storms. I hate them. Well, the thunder and the lightning. Rain is fine. Even hail doesn’t bother me. But thunder and lightning? No thank you.

“Hi. Hadley, right?” I take a seat on the couch, greeting Holt’s sister, who is perched on the edge of one of the high-backed chairs to the left of the couch.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Although not the best situation,” she says.

“Agreed.”

Holt pulls out his phone, studying it for a few seconds before glancing up. “According to the radar it should be almost over.”

As the words come out of his mouth, his daughter starts crying. He goes to stand up, but Hadley jumps to her feet.

“I got her,” Hadley says, hurrying out of the room.

I lean back against the cushions, closing my eyes. The couch shifts, and I feel a blanket being laid over me.

“Thank you.” I pull the blanket up to my chin.

“No problem,” Holt mutters. “What do you do in your free time?”

I open my eyes. “Huh?” I ask, furrowing my brow.

“I was trying to make conversation. You know, pass the time.”

“Oh.” I pull my arms out from under the blanket, contemplating his question. “Not a lot, if I’m being honest. My favorite thing to do is a puzzle while listening to an audiobook. When the weather’s nice, I spend as much time outside as possible. What about you?”

He scrubs a hand down his face. “In what little free time I have, I’ve started playing video games.

Well, I’ve always been a gamer, but I usually played Madden NHL.

” He pauses, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes me.

Why am I not surprised that the hockey player also loves to play hockey video games?

“But I got hooked on a new game this summer called Nightfall. It’s fun to get lost in, and escape reality for a while. ”

“I’m not much of a gamer myself. I’ve tried, and I always end up frustrated when I can’t remember what button does what, but I understand the appeal.” He lets out a half chuckle, half snort, and I shoot a glare his way. “If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread.” He pats his flat stomach. “I can put away a lot of spaghetti.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“What about you?”

“Soup.”

He scoffs. “Soup? Soup’s not a meal.”

“Yes, it is. I add crackers, which makes it a meal.”

“Fine, your favorite meal is soup. What kind of soup?”

“I’m basic—chicken noodle.”

“Still don’t know if it counts as a meal, but I’ll let it slide.”

He smirks at me, and I can’t help grinning.

I like this—seeing this side of him. The more relaxed side.

I also like this friendship we’re forming.

I know I’m crossing the line with one of my patients, but working for the Storm isn’t the same as working for a private practice.

Here we all spend so much time together, friendships are bound to form where they wouldn’t usually, i.e.

between patient and doctor. Which makes this perfectly fine.

“Favorite snack?” he asks.

“Easy. Sour gummy worms. What ab—“ The question dies on my lips as the power turns back on, and Hadley comes strolling out of Holt’s bedroom with Hazel in her arms .

“Everything okay?” Holt asks her.

“I think she’s hungry,” she says.

And that’s my cue to leave. “I’m going to head back to my apartment. Thank you for letting me stay and hang out.”

I uncurl myself and get to my feet, fold the blanket, and place it back on the back of the couch. When I turn around, Holt’s standing so close to me my hands land on his chest. His muscular, warm chest. I want nothing more than to trace all the muscles I know he has.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I should step back, stop touching him, but I can’t.

He inhales sharply, and I raise my gaze to meet his.

We stand like that for a few seconds before he blinks, breaking eye contact, and the lust I swore I saw is gone.

He clears his throat, and that breaks me out of my trance.

Taking my hands off him, I force myself to take a half step back, and then a full step away from him.

Why am I even affected by him? He’s one of my patients. My neighbor. A friend. That’s all he can be. I’m just tired. That’s all this is. I’m seeing things that are clearly not there. Thinking things I wouldn’t be thinking in the light of day.

“Night,” I stammer, as I turn and all but bolt out of his apartment.

It’s not until I’m back home that I take a deep breath, willing my heart to stop racing. It takes me a while to fall asleep, and when I do, Holt fills my dreams. Which doesn’t bode well for me.

A knock on the doorframe of my office has me glancing up from my notes to see Hunter standing in the doorway.

“What’s up?” I beckon for him to come in.

“I won’t take a lot of your time. Wanted to invite you for Thanksgiving next week.

” He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels.

“If you don’t have any plans. Mads and I are hosting this year and wanted to extend the invite.

Everyone who doesn’t already have something else planned is invited. ”

I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, considering his invitation. “That’s nice of you to invite me, but I don’t want to impose. I’m sure you have a lot of the team coming.” I give him a small smile.

“Doc.” He shakes his head. “It’s no imposition. Please come. I wouldn’t be inviting you if we didn’t want you there. Sutton is going to stop by, Ansley will be there too, I think some of the coaching staff, and of course, Coach will be there.”

He pulls a small piece of paper out of his pocket and sets it down on my desk.

“There’s our address and all the details.

No need to bring anything except yourself and your appetite.

There will be lots of food options, but if you have any special dietary needs, let me know.

” He raps on my desk a few times before turning and walking out of the office.

I stare at the doorway for a few seconds before reaching down to pick up the piece of paper he left.

I sigh. It was nice of him to invite me, but it feels weird to go to a player’s home for Thanksgiving.

A holiday you usually spend with family .

I know Hunter said other staff would be there too, but it still feels odd to me.

Maybe it’s because I’m new to the team and haven’t formed that familial bond yet.

Maybe by next year I’ll have similar relationships with them to what they all have with one another, and I’ll feel more comfortable going.

But this year, I’ll stay squarely in my comfort zone at home.

Alone.

For Thanksgiving.

I’m curled up on my couch mid-morning on Thanksgiving—with a book I’ve been meaning to read, and a cup of iced coffee—when there’s a knock at my door. I furrow my brow as I get to my feet, and pad over to peer through the peephole and see who it is.

“Hey,” I say when I open the door.

Hadley greets me with a huge grin. “Happy Thanksgiving. Well, American Thanksgiving since we celebrate in October. ”

I chuckle, remembering that she and her brother are Canadian. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“I came by to tell you we’re leaving at noon to drive over to Hunter and Mads’s if you want to come with us.”

“Oh,” I rock back on my heels. “I wasn’t planning to go.”

She frowns, peeking around me into the apartment. “I didn’t realize you had plans. Sorry. I assumed you were coming.” She gestures over her shoulder. “I heard Hunt tell Holt he invited you.”

I raise my eyebrows.

Why are they talking about me?

She must read the question on my face because she huffs out a laugh. “Don’t worry, he also told Holt he invited Sutton, Ansley, and basically the rest of the staff.”

“I feel weird going.” I grimace. “It’s totally a me thing. I’m still trying to find my footing and place with the team. Figure out what’s acceptable and what’s not. It’s so different from what I’m used to after years of private practice where I never saw my patients outside of appointments.”

“I get it.” She pauses. “I take that back, I don’t really get it because I’ve always been connected to the team because of Holt.

But I can understand where you’re coming from, trying to create boundaries as a medical professional.

I also understand all of this can be a lot.

But I promise they want you there. We all do.

You’re more than welcome.“ She puts her hands together, pretending to beg. “Please come. I can use more friends. And it’ll be more fun than sitting home alone. Well”—she pauses, glancing around—“provided you are alone. I probably shouldn’t assume you’re unattached. ” She grimaces.

“Just my cat, Peaches, for company.”

I blow out a breath, thinking through what she said. Holt and I have become friends, of sorts, kind of, I think, and it hasn’t affected my ability to treat him. Besides, it’s one in the afternoon on a holiday.

Do I really want to be alone?

Deep down I know the answer is no.

“I’ll go,” I tell her.

She pumps her fist in the air. “Yes! We’re leaving in two hours. ”

“What should I wear?”

“Jeans are fine. It’s super casual.”

I nod, and she waves goodbye with a promise to come knock when they’re ready to leave. Once she’s gone, I lean against the closed door.

Guess I’ve got to take a shower now, and actually get ready to be out in public. A small part of me still doesn’t want to go, but a bigger part of me really wants to. Wants to be part of the Storm family everyone keeps inviting me into.

I’m tired of being alone. It always felt easier to keep everyone at arm’s length so no one gets hurt.

But it’s been nice getting to know Sutton and the other ladies.

Making friends, even with the players. As long as we’re just friends, even if part of me feels like that’s crossing a line I shouldn’t cross.

I have to remind myself that working for a professional hockey team isn’t the same as working for a private practice.

The lines are a little more blurry as far as the patients becoming my friends.