Page 58 of Rookie Recovery

“Bowman.” Jamie raked a hand down his face. “Of course I’m still your PT. You’re my responsibility.” He shook his head, seemingly realising what he’d said. “Your recovery is my responsibility. I’m just saying … maybe you shouldn’t be jerking off in my bathroom.”

My face flared with heat. I pretended not to notice. I wanted to tell him that maybe he shouldn’t be making me jerk off in his bathroom. That perhaps he shouldn’t be teasing me with his magic fucking hands and his firm but soft touch and his sexy voice and even sexier smell. Or better yet, that we could sate this burning urge in his apartment before heading out to the rink together before practice. Instead, I said, “You switched all my appointments to other PT people.”

“I needed time to …” He took a deep breath. “To decide a few things.”

Here we go. The whole let Bowie down gently schtick. I wasn’t sure whether to sit down and listen to all the reasons Jamie wouldn’t be seen dead with me, or cut him off, call him a big smelly bumhead, and run away before he had the chance to tell me everything I already knew. I’m too young. Too immature. Too fucking cute. Too something else he refused to speak about. I settled for half-hovering my ass over the chair.

“Bowman.” He paused, ran a hand down his face. “I’ve been thinking. A lot. About, well, about us, and about this insanely inappropriate thing that we—” I made to interrupt him, but he held up a finger to shush me. “That we are both responsible for. Okay? It’s as much my fault as it is yours. You’re right, I should know better. I’m not the kind of guy that does this, and, well … it has to stop.”

My heart sank into my stomach. He was always going to say this. To break things off. Not like I wasn’t expecting it. I shouldn’t get to feel so bummed out about it. We had nothing for him to break off.

“At least,” he continued, either unaware of my misery or unaffected by it, “It shouldn’t happen at wo—”

At that moment, both our phones buzzed in unison. Mine in my back pocket, vibrating against my ass cheek, and Jamie’s on the desk beside my fingers. I glanced down at his screen and saw Aaron Tyler flash up. Was my text also from Aaron? Why would he be messaging us both?

I pulled out my phone and opened the message.

Cap:

The Lounge tonite @8 everyone there no excuses

last nite out before TC

I’m pulling rank

I stared down at the device. TC; training camp. Great, yet another reminder of what I was missing out on. Another obstacle thrown at me. Something else I’d just have to suck up and get over.

I slammed my phone face down onto Jamie’s papers and sat back in his fancy chair. It swivelled, so I turned it away from him. He already thought I was a baby. He didn’t need to witness me having any more tantrums.

“Bowie.” Bowie, not Bowman. Jamie’s voice was soft.

“I’m not going to training camp. And I’m not going tonight either,” I said, to Jamie’s filing cabinets.

A week of training camp and then practices and six games of preseason: missed. Three weeks of sitting on the sidelines, watching the team bond, and talk hockey, and analyse strategy and the preseason games. Three weeks of being away from what I was supposed to be doing. What I was getting paid for. What I existed for.

And would they forget me? Or would it just be one of those things like being the new kid in class? Where everyone had already formed their friendship groups and then there was me trying to nuzzle my way into their cliques.

It was junior rugby all over again.

I was already the third wheel to whatever the fuck Zac and Aaron had going on.

Behind me, Jamie blew out a breath. “Bowie, listen, can we get back to what we were talking about before—”

“I said I’m not going tonight,” I huffed, fully aware I was being a complete dick. But I didn’t want to hear Jamie’s break-up excuses on top of feeling shitty about training camp. “I’m not part of the team. I never was. So why should I go?”

“Bowie, please turn around,” he pleaded.

It took a great amount of effort to uncross my arms and pull my face into a less petulant teenager expression. Then I spun the chair around to look at him. Was it even possible for a man to get more attractive in the twelve seconds I hadn’t been looking at him?

“What’s going on?” Jamie said, that soft calming voice reappearing.

“I’m not going to training camp,” I said, desperately trying to keep the well, duh edge out of my voice.

Jamie nodded. Said nothing. Waited for me to continue. Which he knew I would because since when had I ever been able to keep my mouth shut?

“I should be at training camp. I should be there. I need them to remember I’d … that I’d do anything to keep my spot on this team. To stay on this team. I don’t want to be traded again.”

“None of that is in jeopardy. We discussed this already. I thought you understood.” Jamie left his patient chair to join me behind the desk, perching himself on the vinyl top. “You know you’re irreplaceable. Don’t you?”

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