Page 10 of Replay (Toronto Blaze #3)

Totally Worth It

Josh

I sat on the trainer’s table, trying to keep my knee still while Carlos worked on it. They’d done an X-ray and nothing was broken, but it still hurt like hell.

The rest of the team were finishing practice, getting showers, heading for the airport to play the last preseason game in Ottawa. I was supposed to play tonight. I had a bad feeling about being scratched.

Fuck.

It had been a normal two-on-two drill. But Crash had slid into me at a weird angle and I’d gone down badly on my knee. I’d been lucky so far, never had any kind of major injury, and I was freaking out.

I wasn’t supposed to be done with hockey yet. I was only twenty-four, and I’d planned on at least ten more years. Lots of time to stash some cash and figure out what I would do next, since hockey was the only thing I’d ever been good at.

Carlos finally stepped away and came back with an ice pack. He wrapped it around my knee and I hissed in a breath. It was cold.

“So?” I asked. I needed to know what I was dealing with.

“Class one MCL tear.”

“Shit. That sounds bad. Can I play? How long am I out for?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not playing tonight. You need to rest this for at least a week.”

“A week?” I squeaked. That meant missing our opening game as well as tonight.

“Yes. If you do everything I tell you, I might let you back on skates in a week. But if you don’t, it’ll be two weeks or longer.”

“Fuck.”

He shrugged. “I know. But this isn’t the postseason. If you’re going to damage yourself, better now than during the playoffs.”

If it had been the playoffs, I’d have told him to wrap it and let me go.

He glared at me like he could read my thoughts.

“Remember, your game is based on speed. You need your knee working properly. Ice it regularly, wrap it, and I’ll show you what exercises to do.

Do not do more thinking it will get you back on the ice sooner.

Use the crutches. If you do all that, you should be back quickly. ”

I collapsed back on the table. Missing tonight and our first game of the season was going to suck, but I’d do everything he told me to do. I couldn’t gamble with anything connected to playing.

Carlos emailed me videos on the exercises I was supposed to do and wrapped my knee, sending me back to the locker room on the crutches. Most of the guys had gone, but Crash was waiting, dressed and looking like his dog had died.

Wait, he didn’t have a dog, did he?

“Oh, fuck, Ducky. I didn’t mean to. How bad is it?”

I was pissed, but it wasn’t Crash’s fault. I mean, the guy was already beating himself up over that pass from the last game of the finals.

“Gets me out of going to Ottawa.” I gave him the best smile I could.

“Shit. And after that?”

“If I do everything they tell me, I’ll be back in a week.” He’d said on the ice, so that meant playing, right?

“Fuck.”

“Not your fault. Just one of those things. You go win tonight’s game for me, okay?”

It took a little more reassurance before he wandered away to get ready for tonight. And me? I struggled into a pair of sweats, grabbed my wallet and keys and phone before it hit me.

My car was a stick. And my knee wouldn’t let me work the clutch. Assuming I could get into it on my own with these crutches. I’d never had to use them before, and they were stupidly awkward.

I could get an Uber or a cab home. But I didn’t want to leave my baby in the lot here. It should be safe, but…I’d ask someone to drive me home. Problem solved.

Except the rest of the team had gone. The trainers and equipment guys were busy prepping for tonight’s game. Who was left that I could trust?

An idea flashed. I could ask Katie. We were supposed to be friends now.

She might be in class or something, but if she wasn’t, I could book her a cab to get here, and she could drive me and the car back to my place.

I could pay her, maybe. If she was a student, she’d need money, right? I knew she could drive a stick shift.

Brilliant! It would get me out of a jam, and I’d like to show her my car. She wasn’t as expensive as Cooper’s Ferrari, or Royster’s Lamborghini, but she was the car I’d always wanted, and I was proud of her.

I wedged myself against the wall and pulled out my phone.

You around?

I tried to get comfortable on the crutch, since I didn’t know how long it would take to answer. If she would answer. I hadn’t even messaged her since she gave me her number because I was so fucking afraid of saying the wrong thing. I’d messed up text messages in the past.

The ring of the phone, with the buzz along with it, almost made me drop the stupid thing. “Katie?”

“Are you okay? Are you in the hospital?”

What was she talking about? “No, I’m at the arena.”

I heard the sigh over the line. “Thank god. You were on the news at the sub shop and?—”

“They’ve already got that on the air?” Meant it would be all over the internet too.

“So you are hurt?”

“Yeah, but it’s not a big deal.” I was trusting Carlos that it wasn’t.

“Not a big deal?” Her voice had gone up a little bit.

“Yeah, I’m on IR—injured reserve—for the next week. Which is shitty, but it’s just a week. Nothing major.”

A pause, and I heard the sounds of traffic. She was outside somewhere, so not in class. “I guess that’s good.”

“Oh yeah. Could have been something serious, but if I do what they tell me, I should be back on the ice next week.” There was another pause. Right, I’d messaged her, and she wanted to know why. “That’s actually why I called you. I’m at the arena and I wondered if you’d give me a ride home.”

“I don’t have a car in Toronto. Can’t your teammates help?”

“They would, if they were here. We’ve got a game in Ottawa tonight, so while the trainers were checking out my knee, the guys had to leave to get ready to fly out.

I don’t want to leave my car here, and not everyone can drive a stick, so I thought…

” Hoped, really. “That maybe if I sent you a ride, you could come and drive me and her home? And I’d pay for you to get to your place too. ”

This was the longest pause yet. She probably had shit to do, classes or whatever. It was—I lifted the phone away from my ear and checked—one thirty in the afternoon. Not everyone had my weird hours.

“Her?”

“My car.”

“Okay, I could do that.”

I pumped my fist. Yay! Chance to see Katie again. “Give me your location and I’ll send a ride.”

“I’ll wait for them at the corner of Galbraith and Beverley Street.”

“Text me the address, okay? And I’m going to give the driver an answer to the question you should ask, to make sure this is legit.”

“I’ve done rideshares before, you know.”

“Don’t care. I want to know you’re safe.”

I imagined her eyes rolling. I’d seen her do that enough times. “All right. See you in a bit.”

I called up my rideshare app, waited till she sent me her location, and then booked a ride.

I ordered an Uber Lux because I could afford it and she deserved it.

Then I told security so they’d let the car into the player lot.

I also sent a quick message to Mom to let her know I was okay—if the media was on this, she’d worry when she heard.

I’d barely had time to crutch my way over to the player lot before the Mercedes rolled up and Katie stepped out.

She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. It was black, and I grinned as I read it. Math puns are the first SINE of madness with some graph or shit with it. With her black jeans and red Vans, she looked like a math nerd. Like she had been back in high school.

The driver rolled down his window. “You a Lord of the Rings fan?”

I nodded, glad that my question and answer had worked. Katie rolled her eyes. “Yes, I asked his favorite meal and he said Second Breakfast.”

“Thanks, man. Want an auto or selfie or something?”

The man’s face lit up. “Absolutely. Sorry to hear you’re injured.”

Katie stood back till I had her take the photo with the guy’s phone. Then he rolled away and it was just the two of us.

“I’ve never ridden in a Mercedes before,” Katie said. “That’s not what you have, is it? I’d be petrified to drive it in Toronto.”

I shook my head. “No, I’ve got a Ford.”

Katie looked around the lot, practically empty at this point. Her gaze stalled on the yellow Mustang. “Is that?—?”

“Yep.”

“That’s a freakin’ Mustang.”

“I know.”

“I can’t drive that.”

“Well I sure as hell can’t.” What were we going to do if neither of us could drive?

She turned to face me and her shoulders dropped. “Right, sorry. I forgot to ask how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly, a little tired.”

Her gaze ran down my body, landing on the knee that wasn’t taking any weight. “And you probably need to rest that. Okay, I’ll do my best but I can’t pay for repairs if I hit something. I haven’t driven in Toronto yet.”

I shrugged. “It’s just a car. I have insurance.”

Inside, I was cringing. The car was my baby. I kept her detailed and parked in the back of parking lots to prevent dings. But Katie was already freaking out and I wanted to calm her down. And as much as I loved my car, Katie was more important.

I passed her the keys. “Would you bring it over? Armpits are getting sore with these crutches.” I really wanted to get off my feet. Foot.

She stared at the keys, and then the car.

I nudged her leg with one crutch. “It’s not throwing the ring into Mount Doom.”

She rolled her eyes but looked a little less tense. “Okay, let’s hope for the best.”

I watched her walk away, enjoying the sway of her ass, the swing of her hair and the way she hitched up her book bag.

Yeah, my baby might get a ding, but totally worth it.