Page 8

Xander

I wake up at five on the dot and head to the gym. Nothing like a morning run to get in the right mindset.

Last night, I went to bed grinning like a teenager. I wasn’t lying when I told Rain it was a great night. The way our conversation flowed so easily—it was like talking to someone I’ve known my whole life. No awkward silences. No pretending to be someone I’m not. Just ease.

I can’t remember the last time I connected with someone like that.

I know we just met, but I hope she sticks around for a while.

Maybe forever.

Woah, calm your horses.

As I take the stairs down to the gym, a guy steps out of the room next door.

“Hey, good morning,” I say as I get closer.

He’s wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt.

“Heading to the gym?” he asks.

I nod.

“Cool, I could use a gym buddy. I’m Nathan, by the way.”

He offers his hand, and I shake it firmly.

“I’m Xander. Nice to meet you.”

We start walking toward the stairs.

“Are you an athlete?” Nathan asks.

I nod. “You?”

“Yeah. I play soccer in Charlotte,” he says as we step into the gym.

“Cool, I play hockey.”

The second the word leaves my mouth, a shot of electricity runs through my body. I’ve been playing since I was ten and fell madly in love with the game the moment my stick hit the puck into the net.

Yeah, I need to get back on the ice and fucking play like I never have before.

We both hop on bikes. A comfortable silence falls between us as we start pedaling.

After a few minutes, once I’ve warmed up, I try to stretch my arms above my head, but my right shoulder is still stiff.

“I see you two decided to start your day early,” a guy about my age says, walking into the gym.

Nathan nods in greeting.

“I’m Dylan,” the guy adds, stepping forward. “I’ll be your physical therapist.”

I smile and increase my speed. “Nice to meet you, man. I’m Xander—but I guess you already know that.”

He chuckles and hops on a treadmill.

“After cardio, we can do some stretching exercises,” he says to me, then turns to Nathan. “I thought Dr. Gutierrez gave you the all-clear.”

Nathan sighs. “Yeah, he did. But I wanted to get one more workout in before heading home. No one is waiting for me there, so I’m not really in any rush.”

Dylan nods and starts jogging.

“How long were you here?” I ask Nathan as he matches my pace.

“About a month? Yeah, something like it.” He stretches his arms. “When my team recommended this place, I thought they were crazy, you know? Me? In a facility for physical therapy? But now… I don’t want to leave. It’s been a great experience.”

I smile. Good to hear another athlete speak so highly of this place.

“You know you can come back anytime—but we’d prefer if you don’t,” Dylan says with a grin, and we all chuckle.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but watching Dylan interact so freely with his patients makes me feel more comfortable here.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to come back injured,” Nathan says. “Maybe I need to look into buying a piece of land here and spend my off-season in the mountains.”

I wonder if I’ll feel the same way when it’s time to head back to Raleigh. My mind wanders to a certain redhead who’s taken up way too much space in my thoughts since the first moment I saw her.

Something tells me I just might.

After our workout, we grab breakfast—eggs, toast, and lots of coffee. I didn’t realize how much I missed this kind of easy company. The morning flies by in a blur of small talk and laughter.

“So Xander,” Nathan says, popping another piece of toast in his mouth, “what kind of injury landed you here?”

I shake my head, a small smile on my face. “It was such a stupid thing. Even now, I still feel embarrassed that it happened to me. I’ve been playing professionally for thirteen years.”

Nathan leans in. “Now I really need to know.”

I let out a breath and tell him how I ended up crashing against the goalpost .

He winces, rubbing his collarbone. “Ouch. Mine isn’t any less stupid.”

He chuckles, and I raise a brow.

“Yeah? What happened?”

“I had control of the ball and was running toward the rival’s field.

Then, I stopped just outside the box, looked up to see who I could pass to.

When I spotted one of my teammates across the field, I shot the ball but lost my footing.

It had been raining like crazy, and the field was starting to turn into a mud pit.

” He pauses to shovel in another bite of food.

I chuckle, taking a sip of coffee.

“Anyway, the team doctor taped my ankle up, and I continued playing the rest of the game. When they checked my ankle afterward, I had a fracture.”

I grimace. “Holy shit.”

He nods, like, yeah, exactly .

“Enough about injuries,” I say, “How long have you been playing for the Charlotte Royals?”

We keep the conversation going, just two guys talking sports, cities, pre-game rituals, and whatever else comes up. I didn’t expect to enjoy this much, but I do.

Maybe I need to make friends. Go out and do shit that’s not hockey-related.

I love the game, and I couldn’t be more grateful for my job, but I’ve let it consume my life.

Before long, we exchange numbers, in case he’s ever in Raleigh or I find myself in Charlotte .

Back in my room, I take a long shower and try to settle my nerves. I’m not sure what to expect from the therapy session, but something about being here—the people, the vibe—makes it easier to show up for myself.

My first session with Ruin goes smoothly. It’s more of an intake—mapping out a path we’ll follow in future sessions.

She’s smart, grounded, and easy to talk to. I don't think I’ll need to see the other therapist.

Before I leave, she suggests I take a nap before lunch. I don’t think I’ll fall asleep, but the next thing I know, I wake feeling more energized than I did this morning.

Damn. This place is amazing.

“Come on in,” Dr. Gutierrez calls as I knock on his door.

I step inside and take a seat across from him, noticing he’s on a video call.

“Sounds good, buddy. I’ll talk to you tonight, okay?” he says into the phone.

A little voice chimes in, “Okay, Papi. Remember, don’t work too hard, or you’ll get too tired to play with me tonight.”

I chuckle as Dr. Gutierrez covers his eyes with his hand, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Okay, hijo. I promise.” He moves to hang up, but the voice isn’t done talking.

“Papi, wait! Are you there with a patient? Who is it?”

A blush creeps up the doc’s neck as he shoots me an apologetic look. I wave him off.

“Xander González,” he says.

The moment he says my name, the kid lets out a screech. “What? No way? Can I see him, please?”

Before Dr. Gutierrez can say anything, I stand and walk over, leaning down so I’m in the frame. I give a small wave, and the kid starts jumping up and down.

“No way! I’m talking to Xander González!” he yells.

I simply smile, letting him enjoy the moment.

“I’m sorry, Xander. My son is a big sports fan. He’s especially into Latino and Hispanic athletes,” Dr. Gutierrez says.

I nod, then turn back to the screen. “Hey, man. Nice to meet you. What’s your favorite sport?”

The boy taps his chin, thinking hard. “I can’t choose only one, but my top ones are soccer, baseball, and hockey.”

I grin. “Nice.”

“Okay, Tommy, I’ll chat with you later, okay? Love you,” Dr. Gutierrez says.

“Bye!” Tommy waves with both hands before the screen goes dark.

Dr. Gutierrez puts his phone away. “I’m sorry about that. I usually don’t pick up the phone before I see a patient, but it’s my son.”

“No need to apologize. Family comes first.”

He nods, then starts typing something on the computer.

“So, Xander, your medical team in Raleigh sent me the X-rays of your collarbone after the surgery. It broke in one place. That makes the recovery process much easier.”

I already knew that, but hearing Dr. Gutierrez confirm it makes my breathing a little easier.

“I also have on file that you haven’t done much therapy so far.”

I close my eyes as embarrassment washes over me. I feel my cheeks growing warm as his words sink in. I’ve been playing professionally for over a decade. I should’ve known better. I let my doubts stop me from doing what I needed to heal.

“Yeah, the injury knocked me down, not only physically,” I admit. “But now that I’m here, I’m ready to hit the ground running.”

Dr. Gutierrez smiles and raps his knuckles on the desk. “That’s what I like to hear. Tell me, Xander, besides hockey, what exercises do you enjoy the most?”

That’s a good question. I’ve always followed the team’s regimen to stay in top shape. But I’ve never thought about enjoying it.

“I need to be honest, Doc, if it’s not hockey-related, I’m not into it. I exercise because I know that’s how I keep in shape to play the sport I love.”

I chuckle, realizing how my life revolves around a sport I’ve been playing since I was ten .

“That’s understandable,” he says, standing and motioning for me to do the same. “I’ve never met an athlete who doesn’t love the sport they play. Let’s examine that clavicle.”

He quickly sanitizes his hands while I remove my T-shirt. He touches my bone through the skin, and although it doesn’t hurt, I can feel a little bit of discomfort.

He hums as he continues the exam, then he says, “Have you noticed this small bump here?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think anything of it since it really doesn’t hurt.”

He nods, turning to apply more sanitizer. “There’s nothing to worry about. It’s a bone callus—very common after a fracture. It might disappear over time, but it’s not something that concerns me regarding your recovery. We’ll do an X-ray, and then you’re free to go for the weekend.”

I give him an appreciative smile as I pull my shirt back on.

“Any good plans? There are beautiful trails to hike in the area,” he says.

A smile spreads across my face as an image of Rain appears in my mind.

“Oh. There’s a smile,” he says, grinning. “I think we’re going somewhere with this hiking.”

Funny how a girl I just met can pull a smile out of me by just thinking about her. What am I, eighteen?

“I guess so,” I say with a shrug, keeping it vague .

“Alright. What I want you to do this weekend is to enjoy the outdoors. Go for a walk, a hike. The views from Blue Ridge are beautiful.”

I nod, about to stand, when he adds, “No swimming, no horseback riding. We can’t afford having you take a fall.”

I never thought of myself as clumsy, but here we are.

“Sounds good. Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” I say, shifting in my seat. Feels a little weird to pry, but I’m curious.

“Shoot,” he says, adjusting his glasses.

“Why did you leave Miami?”

The doc chuckles as he releases a deep breath. “The official answer is that it was time for something new—a new professional challenge.”

“And the real answer?” I press.

“I had a terrible divorce and needed to put distance between me and my ex. Now I’m fighting like hell to get full custody and bring my boy home.”

Shit, that’s heavy.

I think of my ex and how bad things could’ve been if we had a kid together. I can’t even begin to imagine what he’s going through.

“I’m sorry, Doc. I didn’t mean…”

He waves me off. “Don’t sweat it. I wouldn’t have shared if I didn’t want to. We’re creating a relationship here, and if I want to earn your trust. I need to be real and upfront.”

I’m grateful for his kindness. With a smile on my face, I get up and make my way to the door.

“Spending time with the feisty redhead is good, just don’t do any strenuous exercises yet.”

I groan, covering my face. “Seriously?”

He barks out a laugh, and I can’t help but join him.

“Small town, big gossip,” he says with a shrug as his laughter dies down. “But they take care of their own, and the MacAllisters are like royalty here. No one will go tell the media about how you spend your free time here.”

I pause at the door, his words lingering.

People can say whatever they want.

Like Rain told her brother last night, we weren’t doing anything wrong.

But the way I’m starting to feel? It won’t stay innocent for long.