Page 46 of Matched with the Player

“Yes.” He swiped off the surgical paper and sat up too fast, his jaw throbbing harder. “Where is she?”

“Just outside the main entrance to the visitors’ locker room,” the old timer answered, adjusting the visor of his uniform cap. “We caught a lucky break stopping your goal at the end, son. You clinched your division, but Pittsburgh is still scrapping for every extra point to nab a wildcard slot.”

Standing, Kyle thanked the medical staff and left the smell of antiseptic to move into the hallway with the security guard.

“Didn’t feel like a lucky break when your goon nearly took my hand off with that slash.” Kyle understood an occasional slash. What had ticked him off was that the blow to the stick hit his wrist as well. A wrist injury at this point could finish his season.

“He’s a rough one,” the guard admitted as he led Kyle past the visiting team offices toward the exit. “But your enforcer got a few licks in tonight, too. Did you see the hip check Rankin gave number ten tonight after you went in the box? Your brother can rumble with the best of ‘em.”

“Gotta have someone watching my back.” Kyle grinned before he remembered the stitches and promptly straightened his face. “Damn, that’s sore.”

The older man chuckled as he tugged open the locker room double doors. “Good luck in the playoffs, son. Your lady friend is right out here.”

His eyes landed on Marissa, her arms folded and a stiff, square purse dangling from her arm on a chain strap. Her low heels and Capri pants looked like something Marilyn Monroe would have worn on the weekends. Marissa’s white blouse sported a Phantoms pin on one pocket, the small nod to his team all the sweeter since he’d bet she wouldn’t normally wear fan paraphernalia.

He warmed inside just looking at her. And not just because of the attraction. He liked having her here, knowing that someone cared if he got a few teeth knocked out or needed stitches. In a family full of brothers, you learned to toughen up in a hurry, but the TLC quota was limited. Feeling that tenderness from Marissa had been nice.

But how could he convince her to stay.

“Marissa.” He wanted to wrap her in his arms, but he remembered he hadn’t showered and he wasn’t sure what her reaction would be. He still wore hockey shorts and pads on his legs, but someone had helped strip off his jersey before he’d gone in to get his face sewn up.

And while she’d seen him when he’d been half naked and sweating before, the circumstances had been very, very different.

“Ahem.” Near Marissa, someone cleared her throat. A pretty blonde with wide blue eyes that matched all the blue Phantoms gear she wore, right down to a knitted scarf flung around her neck. “I’ll just leave you two alone.”

Kyle nodded to the mystery woman as she walked away, surprised he hadn’t even noticed her standing there at first. Marissa had stolen his focus in a big way.

“Are you okay?” Marissa stepped closer, her eyes on his injury and her face so pale he wondered if the sight of blood bothered her.

“It’s nothing,” he assured her. “The hits look worse than they are.”

She blinked up at him, some of the color returning to her cheeks.

“It’s never healthy to have your head snapped back to that degree.” She reached up to cup his face by the temples, carefully avoiding his jaw. “Did they do a concussion test?”

He realized she stared intently at his pupils and he guessed she was taking a test of her own.

“Marissa, I’m fine.” He took her hands in his, freeing her from any nursing obligations. “My brothers hit harder than that pansy Wolfson. Why don’t I go clean up and I’ll meet you in the team lounge? You and your friend can grab something to eat while you wait.”

He didn’t mention anything about finding her a flight home, just in case she’d changed her mind. Just in case he could pull out a last-minute miracle – the ultimate play for a guy who was known for competing until the last second.

She nodded stiffly, agreed too readily, when he could tell by her body language that she was upset.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, unable to go back and party with his team when Marissa seemed so distant. “Is it your mom? Is everything okay back home?”

“Her condition is the same. She starts the new treatment tomorrow thanks to you. We’ll be okay.” Clutching the chain of her purse strap like a lifeline, her white knuckles told him a different story.

Damn it. She still wanted to leave. He could feel it in the tension between them.

“Then what is it? Something’s wrong and I can’t go back in there and pretend to be thrilled about a playoff spot when I know you’re upset.” Seeing one of his teammates come tearing out into the hallway with a bottle of champagne in hand, Kyle grabbed Marissa’s hand and tugged her into an empty office behind them.

He closed the door before they were spotted, shutting them into a cramped ten-by-ten room with a desk, chair and a landline. It looked like no one on the Phantoms had claimed the space for the night, the desk free of paperwork.

“What are you doing?” Marissa’s violet eyes searched his from behind her tortoiseshell glasses. “You should celebrate your big victory.”

She carefully avoided a bag full of new pucks that looked like promo items for a future giveaway day at the arena.

“It doesn’t feel like a victory.” He should be thrilled. Shaking champagne all over Axel’s head until the big Finn gave in and drank a few drops. “I feel like my team just got shut out. Like I’m on the verge of the biggest loss yet. Why is that?”

---