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CHAPTER ELEVEN: BAD HIT

OWEN

I’m off my game today… again.

Practice started fine—passing drills, shooting exercises, all the usual stuff—but the second I caught sight of Stacey in the stands, everything shifted. And now I can’t focus.

She’s sitting up there, clipboard in hand, watching the team with a focused expression. Her hair’s pulled back, her eyes sharp, and she looks so damn composed. It makes me think of her sitting in the stands, watching Millie and me skate with that guarded expression, like she wasn’t sure whether to stay or run. The way her eyes softened when she thought I wasn’t looking. The way she pulled Millie close when they left, as if afraid of the little girl leaving her side.

I still don’t know how to fix things between us. I want to have some sort of relationship with her… if not a romantic one, I want us to at least be friends. She was such an important part of my life, and I don’t want her to slip through my fingers again. I didn’t expect her to still be holding onto this much anger, and I really didn’t expect her to have a kid.

Millie’s great, and I enjoy hanging out with her. I actually had a lot of fun skating with her, when usually I tend not to be all that comfortable around little kids because they’re so unpredictable. Millie’s smart and funny, just like her mom, and there was a moment when we were racing across the ice where I could picture a future with that little girl in it.

It’s clear I’m going to need more than an apology to get back into Stacey’s good graces. I just don’t know what more I can do.

“Pay attention!” Carson yells, snapping me out of my zooming thoughts.

Too late. One of the guys on the opposing scrimmage team barrels toward me, and before I can fully brace myself, he slams me into the boards.

Pain radiates through my shoulder immediately, sharp and hot. I groan, rolling off the glass as the play moves down the ice. Shit! I can’t afford another injury to this same damn shoulder.

Carson slides next to me. “You good?”

I rotate my shoulder, wincing. “Yeah, just a bad hit.”

Coach isn’t having it.

He blows the whistle and shouts from the bench, “Owen, off the ice. Go get that checked out!”

I reluctantly skate toward the tunnel. Goddamnit, what a stupid way to get hurt. This shoulder hasn’t been an issue for me in months, but I’ve always known to be careful. Now, I’ve fucked it back up and all because I couldn’t tear my focus away from a hot redhead who has made it clear she wants nothing to do with me, and her adorable little daughter with her big blue eyes.

When I make it to the physical therapy office, Stacey’s already there with her supervisor, Janet. Fucking perfect. The last thing I want right now is for the woman I’m pining after to see me hurt and acting like a wuss. They lead me into an exam room and shut the door behind us.

“What happened?” Janet asks, gesturing for me to sit on the exam table.

“Got smashed into the boards,” I mutter, stripping off my jersey. “Bad shoulder took the brunt of it.”

Stacey stands off to the side, quiet but attentive, her eyes flicking between me and her supervisor.

Janet checks me over, asking me to rotate my arm and testing the range of motion.

“Nothing serious,” she says after a few minutes. “You have full function—just some soreness, right? Rest and heat should get you back up and running in a couple of days. Still, since you’ve injured this shoulder before, I want to keep an eye on it and have you come in for a little assistance stretching and working the muscle.” Relief washes over me, but before I can thank her, she adds, “Stacey, why don’t you work on loosening up the muscle for now? I’ll check back in later.”

Stacey’s eyes widen for a split second in surprise, but she recovers quickly. “Um, ah… of course. No problem, Janet.”

Janet leaves the room.

Just like that, Stacey and I are alone. The air grows immediately thick with tension.

“Lie back,” Stacey says, her voice professional but tight. It’s like deja vu. She’s as cold and standoffish as she was during my first exam with her. After my time with Millie in the rink, I kind of expected that Stacey would warm up to me a little. Her daughter didn’t have a problem doing so, but I guess I was being a little too optimistic that having the kid like me would win me brownie points.

I do as she says, stretching out on the table. She moves to stand by my shoulder and puts her hands on my arm. Immediately, heat shoots through me and I grit my teeth to keep from visibly reacting. She massages my shoulder, working the muscles there skillfully. God, her hands are so soft, but so strong. The pressure she uses is perfect and I feel my shoulder start to relax.

This feels so good. Her light vanilla scent is wafting over me and I struggle to keep my eyelids from fluttering closed.

Swallowing, I try to think of something to say to her to distract me from the sensations she’s provoking in my body.

“So, uh, physical therapy, huh?” I ask, doing my best to sound casual.

She nods, her eyes locked on what she’s doing with her hands. “Yep.”

“How long have you been in Denver?”

She shrugs. “A while.”

Not giving me a lot to work with here.

“What made you choose Denver to begin with?”

“My grandma’s here.”

Did she move here because of her grandma? Is her grandma in good health? Was she with Millie’s dad when she came here? She seems determined not to give me any real insight into her life, which stings. It’s frustrating, but it’s also confusing my mind and body in a bad way because as irritated as her clipped answers are, her touch is driving me crazy. Despite my best efforts to distract myself, my cock responds to her hands moving over me.

Ignoring my dick, I ask, “Did you meet Millie’s father here?”

She freezes, her eyes widening slightly before she quickly slams her impassive mask back in place.

“That’s none of your business.”

Ouch. I frown up at her, my stomach tightening with anxiety and frustration.

“Just trying to make conversation.”

“We should just focus on the massage.”

Silence falls between us again and I try not to let it bother me. Easier said than done. There’s also the fact that because I’m not struggling to come up with something to say to her, I can’t help but pay more attention to her hands and how good her massage feels.

My eyes wander along her body as she works. I try not to, but I can’t help but admire the swell of her breasts against her shirt, and the curve of her waist. The roundness of her hips…

I imagine gripping those hips and pulling her on top of me. Holding onto her as she grinds against me, her hair loose and wild around her face and her eyes dark with desire…

Fuck!

Clearing my throat, I sit up.

“That’s enough,” I quickly say. “My shoulder feels much better, thanks. I should get going.”

She frowns and shakes her head. “Hold on, I’m not done.”

“It’s fine,” I assure her, grabbing my jersey and yanking it back on. “Thanks. You’re a miracle worker.”

Releasing a huff of frustration, she replies, “No. Lie back down. I’m not going to let you out of here until I’m certain your shoulder doesn’t need further attention.”

I want to tell her no, that I’m okay, but I know I can’t be reckless with this strain. Ruining my shoulder will end my career.

There’s a small part of me that’s also a little excited that she’s taking care of me. I know she’s only doing her job, but having any sort of concern from her turned my way makes my heart race.

“Okay,” I grumble, laying back down to let her continue working. I’m struggling to keep my body under control. There’s just something about her touch—it’s like electricity shoots through me whenever her fingers come in contact with my skin. It was the same in high school, but somehow it’s stronger now because I haven’t experienced it in so long? Has my body been craving her touch all these years, and I didn’t realize it? My cock is getting hard and it’s difficult to hide that fact since I’m wearing athletic shorts not exactly designed for hiding boners. I do my best to subtly adjust myself with my free hand to try and hide how turned on I am.

I can’t help but notice that I’m not the only one affected by our proximity. As Stacey moves her hands over me, her breathing grows a little shallow and her eyes grow hooded and dark. Her fingers brush against my skin and linger just seconds longer than necessary as she works my shoulder. Her cheeks flush, and she runs her tongue along her bottom lip more than once.

She always used to do that when she wanted me to kiss her.

By the time the session is over, my blood is hot and my cock is aching.

“Now you’re good to go,” Stacey says.

I sit up, but I’m not ready for her to stop touching me. Instinctively, I reach out and grab hold of her hand. She freezes and looks down at where we’re touching.

“Owen, what are you?—”

Overwhelmed by my desire for her, I pull her closer and press my lips to hers in a hungry kiss. I can’t resist. This need for her is burning me up inside-out. I expect her to push me away, but to my shock, she responds positively. She gasps, her mouth opening beneath mine. Her hands slide up and around my neck, pulling me closer. I grip her waist, tugging her forward so she’s standing between my legs.

How is this happening right now? Am I dreaming? There’s no way Stacey and I are actually kissing right now. It’s been so long, and yet this feels like the most natural thing in the world. Kissing Stacey is just how I remember it, and yet, somehow, it’s so much more. More intense. More carnal. More pleasurable.

I don’t want it to stop. Slipping my hands around her, I grip her ass and pull her flush against me. I don’t care if she can feel my rock hard cock pressing against her. I want her to know how much I desire her. How hungry I am for her.

“Stacey,” I murmur. “You taste so good?—”

Cupping my face in both her hands, she pulls my mouth back to hers. The kiss grows more heated, our tongues tangling, and my grip on her ass tightens as I tense to pull her up onto the table with me.

Before I can make a move, the sounds of voices outside the door penetrate our lustful haze. Stacey’s eyes go wide and she quickly disentangles herself from my arms. Clearing her throat, she looks around frantically, but I’m not sure what she’s trying to find.

“You’re, uh, cleared for practice,” she murmurs. “Just pay attention to the shoulder.”

“Right,” I nod, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her back to me.

Her cheeks are as red as her hair as she rushes out of the room without another word.

I take my time, adjusting my cock before getting off the table. Well, that just happened. Just as I’m reaching for my shirt, my phone buzzes. When I dig it out of my pocket, I see that it’s Gerald. Rolling my eyes, I ignore the call, and I head out of the exam room. I don’t see Stacey as I walk through the PT reception area, but I’ve no doubt she’s hiding from me.

Frustration churns through me as I head to the locker room to get ready for practice. My mind is spinning. The kiss… was so unexpected, but so fucking hot.

I’m in trouble. Big trouble. I’m not going to be able to stop with just one kiss. The whole wanting to at least be friends thing? Fuck that. I can’t just be friends with this woman. I will always crave more from her. The question is whether or not Stacey will allow it to happen again.

Walking into the locker room, I’m surprised to find Jayce waiting for me by my locker.

“Hey, man,” I say.

“Hey,” he replies with a grin.“How’s the shoulder?”

“Good.” I move my arm in a wide circle to demonstrate. “I’m cleared for practice.”

“That’s a relief.” He looks around, as if seeing if any of the other guys are listening. “I wanted to ask if you were free tonight? I was going to hit up that club I told you about and wondered if you wanted to join me for a drink?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” I reply, a bit caught off guard by the invite. Getting a proper drink sounds really fucking good.

“Cool,” Jayce nods, looking pleased. “I’ll text you the address.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He turns to go to his locker and I feel a strange sense of calm settle over me. A night out with Jayce might be just what I need to help clear my head and figure out how the hell to convince Stacey to give me another chance.