Page 51 of Her Puck Daddies

“Hold still, hold still,” he tells Ava, his voice carrying that mix of detachment and quiet authority that medical personnel always seem to have.

When he presses near her outer ankle bone, she hisses, her body jerking at the contact.

“This needs an x-ray,” he declares. “Let’s get you into the exam room.”

Levi arrives just as that decision is made, and logic kicks in—three of us hovering around Ava like a pack of wolves isn’t exactly subtle. So, reluctantly, we back off and head to the showers, trying not to draw attention to the fact that we’re worried out of our minds.

I scrub down fast, taking a much less thorough rinse than usual before throwing on my clothes. My mind isn’t on practice, the game, or even the usual locker room banter.

It’s on her.

Still, I have to be careful. Showing concern for a coworker is one thing—blatant, laser-focused concern for a very specific coworker? That’s another.

When I spot the trainer standing beside Doc McClaney, I keep my tone light, casual.

“So, how’s our masseuse doing?”

McClaney barely glances up. “She’ll be all right. It’s just a sprain. I’ve got her on crutches, a few days of rest, and she’ll be good as new.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I’m relieved, but it’s not enough.

Not until I see her for myself.

I’m just glad it’s not a break and that she’s already gone home. But when I realize she won’t be coming over tonight like we’d planned, something tightens in my chest. I shouldn’t feel let down, but I do. It feels selfish, and there’s no room for that, so I shove it down. I can’t afford to wallow in disappointment. Not when my teammates are counting on me to stay steady. Not when Eric and Levi need me to keep my head in the game.

Ava’s health has to come first, though. A woman in pain isn’t going to want be on her hands and knees getting fucked, no matter how much I want her there.

I pull out my phone and send her a message.

Sven: So sorry about your tumble. How are you feeling?

There. That should sound innocent enough. I really do want to know, and not just to get an idea of when she’d be able to come over.

Ava: I’m fine. They told me to use the R.I.C.E. method.

Ah, the classic remedy.

Sven: Can I bring you anything? An ice pack? A compression sleeve?

Ava: No, thanks. I have it covered.

Sven: If you change your mind, please let me know.

She doesn’t reply, so I motion for Eric and Levi to follow me out. Once we’re in a more private space, I show them the text conversation.

“Yeah, I figured,” Levi grimaces, but that’s the extent of his reaction. “At least it’s not that bad.”

“I hated watching her fall like that. Felt like it took a decade off my life,” Eric adds.

“Me, too.”

My phone chirps with another text notification. I hope it’s Ava, but it’s not. It’s from our office manager.

Cecille: Guys, as you may have witnessed, our masseuse took a misstep earlier today and gave herself a pretty painful ankle sprain. I’m putting together a care package for her, so anything you’d like to kick in is appreciated. The organization is already sending her a get-well bouquet.

Flowers. Of course. Not that I was ever great at remembering that when I was in relationships. Thank god for Cecille, though. She always picks up the slack for everyone here.

Without hesitation, I send her two hundred and fifty. Ava deserves that extra comfort, no question. I catch Levi and Eric tapping away at their phones, so I know they’re probably doing the same. Ava deserves to feel cared for, and between the three of us and the organization, she will be.