Page 23 of Drawn to You

Dalton walks into the training room and gives Gina an expectant look.

“Are you gonna wrap my ankle?”

“Yeah, get on the table.”

Dalton nods at me in greeting. “Thanks for asking if I wanted Starbucks, Josie.”

Gina rolls her eyes. “Leave her alone. Coffee gives you the shits, D. Remember that time you didn’t make it to the bathroom in time in Dallas?”

“One doesn’t forget shitting one’s self.”

I take out my laptop to check my email and fall down a rabbit hole, helping a colleague write a proposal for a potential new client. While Gina wraps, massages and ices players, I spend nearly three hours typing on my computer while sitting in a folding chair.

My back protests when I finally stand up and stretch.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Do you need anything?” I ask Gina.

“No, thanks.”

The Mammoths goalie, Lucas Robinson, comes into the training room wearing his bulky gear.

“Hey, Josie,” he says.

“Hey.”

“What’s up with you?” Gina asks him as I leave the room.

I have to walk through the locker room to get to the bathroom, and when I glance over at Dane, he’s engaged in a heated conversation with Tim, his coach.

“Prove yourself with your play,” Tim says earnestly. “Let go of the past.”

Dane shakes his head, his brow lined with aggravation. “I won’t start shit with him, but if he starts it, I’ll damn well finish it.”

Tim rubs his forehead. “That approach lands you in the box every time. I know there’s bad blood between the two of you, but”

“You don’t know,” Dane says angrily. “Until it happens to you, you have no idea.”

I walk into the bathroom, wondering what they’re talking about. By the time I walk back out, Dane is sitting with his backagainst the wall, wearing headphones. His eyes are closed and it’s clear he doesn’t want to be disturbed.

Back in the training room, Gina is looking through the bag of supplies she takes to the bench for games, and Lucas is sitting in the folding chair I was in before.

“Hey, Josie,” he says, standing.

He’s never spoken to me until today, but from everything I’ve heard, he’s a nice guy. He has longish blond hair with loose curls and warm brown eyes.

“Hi, Lucas, how’s it going?”

“It’s good. Always gotta be on our toes in Seattle.”

I approach to pack my laptop and cord into my bag. “They have a really nice arena here.”

“Yeah, it’s one of the best.” He clears his throat. “So I heard you get sick on the plane. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m good. I actually slept for most of the flight last night.”

He clears his throat again. “That’s good. You look, you know, well rested.”

“Lucas fucking Robinson!” someone yells from the locker room.

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