Page 6

Chapter six

Rebecca

I peek at Holt a few times out of the corner of my eye as we make our way down the hallway.

I feel bad for the guy. I may not be a hockey player, but I can sympathize.

I’m sure it would feel horrible being told you can’t do your job for a few weeks.

Especially when you essentially live and breathe your job for over half the year, and it’s something you’ve worked and trained your whole life to get to do.

A job I’m sure he loves doing. So I get it.

Once in my office, we spend the next thirty minutes going through his treatment plan, including the extra hip, and quad stretches I want him to do on his own.

“No skating?” he asks, running a hand through his hair, something I’ve noticed he does often.

“Not for at least a week.”

He meets my gaze, and I realize for the first time how blue his eyes are.

Like the ocean. They’re gorgeous.

I wonder if they change color with his moods. If they darken when he’s turned on or get brighter when he’s happy. If he wears certain colors do his eyes get bluer? I shouldn’t be wondering about those things. He’s my patient.

He blows out a breath. “Okay.”

“The massage therapist is expecting you after our session tomorrow morning. ”

“Sounds good.” He stands from the chair, stretching his neck. “Bye, Dr. Jansen.” He dips his chin.

“Bye. Have a good one,” I tell him before turning to my computer and getting started on a treatment plan for one of the forwards who has been having elbow and wrist pain.

I get lost in my work for the rest of the day and absolutely do not think about the injured goalie.

“Knock, knock,” Sutton says from my doorway as I’m wrapping up my day.

“Hi,” I greet her as she steps into my office. “What’s up?”

“A few of us are going out for happy hour. Are you interested in joining us?”

“Umm.” I swallow, unease flowing through me.

“It’s totally fine if you can’t—”

“I’d love to, but I don’t drink,” I blurt out.

“That’s fine,” she says without missing a beat, and I relax. “We usually eat dinner while we’re there. But you’re more than welcome to come and hang out even if you don’t want to eat.”

I’m surprised she can’t hear my exhale when she doesn’t ask me for an explanation about why I don’t drink. The number of times I’ve had to defend my choice of not drinking over the years is too many to count.

I’ll never understand why people care so much about the choices adults make in their personal lives, whether that be the food and drink they consume or don’t consume, who they love, or anything else that is really none of anyone else’s gosh darn business.

“So you in?” Sutton asks.

I contemplate her invitation. I want to make friends, and this is probably the best way to go about it. She didn’t say any of the players or their wives would be there, so it’s probably not crossing the line. I can always make an excuse and leave early if I have to.

“Yeah, I’m in.” I stand, grabbing my bags. “When and where? I’ll run home, feed my cat, and change.” I peer down at my scrubs, making a mental note to keep a change of clothes in my office in the future.

“I’ll text you the details. It’s not too far away. ”

She pulls out her phone and begins typing. My phone dings with the message she sent. “We’ll probably be there around six. Does that give you enough time? Ansley is still in a meeting, and I told her she could ride with me since her car is at the shop.”

“Six works.”

“I’m so excited.” Sutton claps her hands together, before turning and all but prancing out the door.

I chuckle, shaking my head, before locking up my office and making my way out to my car.

“Tell us about you? Where are you from? What brought you here?” Ansley, the team’s rinkside reporter, asks me.

Happy hour with a few people turned out to be me, Sutton, Ansley, and Holly, one of Sutton’s friends who doesn’t work for the team.

The pub they chose, The Golden Lion, is down the road from the arena and is packed to the brim.

We were lucky to get a table at all as the bar area is standing room only.

I’m surprised they’re not over their patron limit.

“I’m originally from Iowa, but I came to Florida for grad school and stayed.

I was working for a private practice for a few years when this job fell into my lap.

I had been thinking about making a change, so this was kismet.

Out of grad school, I worked in the athletic department at the university up in Tallahassee.

So this isn’t my first rodeo with athletes, although my experience is with D1 college athletes. ”

“Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Both?” Ansley asks.

Sutton elbows her. “Ans, don’t ask that.” She turns to me. “You don’t have to answer. It’s none of our business. Is it, Ans?” She narrows her eyes at the woman in question.

“No boyfriend or husband. Just me and my orange tabby, Peaches. Which is kind of how I like it.”

I hope I sound convincing. I’ve repeated the lie so many times over the years that I almost believe it.

Except as much as I’ve tried not to, I want a partner.

A husband even. Someone to do life with.

I even want kids. As much as the alarm bells go off in my head when I think about having kids, I want them.

More than anything.

I know I shouldn’t because I failed at being a big sister, which in theory, is less responsibility than being a mother. If I can’t even protect my brother, how will I ever protect my kids?

“Since we’re on the subject of dating lives, how’s yours, Sutton?” Holly asks.

I could hug her for changing the subject. I pop a tortilla chip into my mouth, glad the spotlight is off me.

“Nonexistent.” Sutton shakes her head.

“Why won’t you let Sebastian take you out? The man is fine, and he’s clearly interested,” Ansley says.

Sebastian, as in the British defenseman for the Storm, Sebastian?

“You know I can’t. He plays for the team,” Sutton says.

I glance between the two of them feeling like I’m missing part of the story. I mean I get it, and I can’t blame her. Mixing work and fun isn’t a good idea. And maybe she’s not interested in him the way he is in her.

“I’ve told you time and time again you’ll have to tell HR, but otherwise there’s no rule against it,” Ansley retorts.

“I still don’t understand why you know that,” Sutton says.

Ansley shrugs before taking a sip of her drink. “Because I do.”

“One of these days, you’ll tell me,” Sutton says.

“Stop changing the subject.” Ansley shakes her head. “I think you should take him up on the offer to let him take you out on a date.”

Holly leans closer to me and whispers, “Welcome to the weekly argument.”

“Not happening,” Sutton says. She turns her attention to me. “There’s a speed dating event I’m going to in a few weeks. You should come with me.”

“Nope, no thank you. I’ll pass.” I say.

“It’s fun. I promise. I go every quarter when they have one. Plus, Ansley’s coming.”

“Fun?” I snort. “Right. Making small talk with a bunch of random guys sounds horrendous. ”

“I didn’t agree to go,” Ansley pipes up.

“Yes, you did. At our last happy hour.” Sutton takes a sip of her drink.

“Nope,” Ansley says, popping the p .

Sutton blows out a breath, rolling her eyes. “You’re no fun. But fine.” She turns to me “Please?” She clasps her hands together like she’s begging. “Don’t make me go alone again. It’s only a few hours.”

I laugh. “What makes you think I’m interested in dating anyone? I just told you that I’m content being single.”

She shakes her head at me. “Come on. It’s a fun, harmless night of speed dating. Maybe you’ll meet your one .”

Ansley groans. “Now you sound like Weston.” Ansley turns to me. “He’s Mr. Romantic. The one everyone goes to for relationship advice. Heck, make that romance advice in general. He always seems to know when a person is or isn’t dating their one .” She puts air quotes around one .

“He’s been right, though,” Sutton says. “He predicted Hunter and Madison. Brody and his best friend.”

“But what about Holt? Weston swears the woman Holt’s dating isn’t the right one. Yet they’re still together,” Ansley says.

I take a drink of my Sprite, trying to keep up and put names to faces.

“Mark my words, something’s up with that,” Sutton says.

I clear my throat. “How about we change the subject? So we’re not gossiping about people’s private lives.” I turn to Sutton. “Let me know the next time speed dating rolls around and maybe I’ll go with you.”

Before anyone can say anything else, our server comes over with our meals. We spend the rest of the night chatting about random topics.

When we go our separate ways later, the three of them in a rideshare and me to my car, I’m glad I hung out with them. I’ve never had a group of female friends. Heck, I’ve never had a group of friends, full stop, so this is unfamiliar territory for me.

A little nerve-racking, but good.