Page 118 of Rookie Recovery

“My strong recommendation is that he sit for the next few games.” Jamie sighed. Paused. “But it’s not my call to make.”

“I see.”

“I will sign off on his release.” Another pause, and I got the distinct impression he was staring Turner down. “On the condition that it’s not your decision, either. You can’t pressure him one way or the other. It’s his choice. Not mine, not yours.”

Coach watched Jamie for a few beats. I could almost see the resignation building in his features. “Fine. You have a deal. Bowman decides for himself.”

Jamie pulled the papers closer, heaved out yet another tremendous sigh, and scribbled his name on them.

That was it. I was cleared to play in tomorrow’s game.

Why wasn’t I feeling happier?

“Just the man I’ve been looking for,” Coach said, as though only then spotting me there. “Congratulations, you’ve got the go ahead.”

Jamie spun around in his seat, getting to his feet half a second later. He assessed me for a few moments, his expression unreadable. No hint of emotion. He said nothing, and I didn’t break the silence.

“Excuse me,” he said eventually, shouldering past me out of the door.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to fall to the ground, and hug my knees, and sob until someone—Jamie—carried me home and wrapped me in a blanket and fed me sweeties. But I forced my features to mirror his passive, emotionless mask. I closed my fingers around his bicep, and he came to a stop, spinning to face me in the hall.

“Bowman,” he said. The formality of my name stung. Like tape ripped from skin, hairs be damned.

“Why?” was all I could muster. “Why did you change your mind?”

For a beat, Jamie’s face softened. He blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand through his hair. There were bags under his eyes. His shirt looked like it had only been pressed once instead of its usual seven or eight times. His five o’clock shadow was more like a five-day shadow.

Had he shaved recently? Or slept? Was this hurting him as much as it was me?

I’m here.

Gently, Jamie lifted my hand from his arm and let it drop to my side. He might as well have taken a blade to my skin. “Because I was letting my biases make my decisions. You’re an adult. You know your body, your capabilities, more than anyone. It should be your call if you skate. I … I understand how important this is for you. For everyone, really.” He paused again. His gaze brushed over my lips and my stomach swooped. “I trust you.”

I didn’t say anything. Didn’t know what to say.

After a few more moments of silence, a tiny, almost imperceptible smile curved the corner of Jamie’s mouth. I realised that if I were anyone else, or this had been three months ago, I wouldn’t have even known it was a smile.

But it was there, and it was only for me.

Jamie leaned a little closer. Lowered his voice to a whisper. “I can’t believe I’ve finally done it.” I raised a brow. “I’ve finally rendered Archie Bowman, rising British hockey superstar, speechless.”

I pursed my lips together to stop all my thoughts tumbling out. I’m sorry. I forgive you. I love you. Please take me home and fuck me on your ottoman again.

When I still said nothing, Jamie brushed down his shirt and turned to leave.

“Wait,” I called out, and he spun around once more. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

“Are you coming to watch the game tomorrow?”

My heart was hammering so loudly in my chest I barely heard his answer above it.

“Wouldn’t miss it, little winger.”

The locker room was empty when I made my way there after talking with Coach. Thank fuck. I needed to be by myself. Ironic really, when I’d spent the last few months wishing I were anything but. Yet, I needed to think.

Now that the decision to play tomorrow’s opening game was in my hands, it felt impossible to choose.

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