Page 10 of Playoff

I smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I worry about all of you. You’re my family. And this series is so important. The guys worked so hard to get here.”

“I know.” I shake my head. “I hate that this happened. Not just because someone could have been seriously hurt, but also because of how much it means to us to get to the playoffs.”

“Fate always has its own plans,” Harper says with a smile. “All we can do is go along for the ride.”

“You’re right about that.”

We chat for another few minutes and she leaves. I’m done for the day, so I start packing up my things so I can leave the training room the way I found it since the Blizzard has been so generous in letting us use it.

“Hey, Rowan, you got a minute?”

“Hey.” I turn to Canyon. “What’s going on?”

“My neck. It’s been tight ever since the accident, and after skating this morning, it’s worse.”

“Maybe a minor touch of whiplash from the accident,” I murmur. “Sit down.”

He sinks onto a chair, and I put my hands on his neck, feeling for knots or bruises.

“Tell me what hurts,” I say.

“There.” He grimaces.

“Okay, that’s just a knot. Let me work on it. Hang on.” I pull out some therapeutic lotion with essential oils—a blend I create myself—and rub some between my palms. “Take your shirt off.”

He’s quick to comply, and I rub my hands together a little to warm up the lotion. Then I press down on either side of his neck, right where it curves into his shoulders. I press my thumbs into the knot and the same spot on the opposite side and he moans.

“Fuck, Ro, that’s good.” His chin hits his chest and I focus on a combination of relaxation and working on the knot. If I just go at the knot, it’ll hurt even more tomorrow, and that’s not the goal here.

“Breathe, nice and steady,” I encourage. “I’m keeping the pressure medium because you don’t want additional soreness tomorrow.”

“I don’t.” He’s not a huge guy, not like Jensen or even Ivan, but he’s solid. His shoulders are strong and muscular, giving me a nice canvas to work on as I knead and massage.

“You’re the best,” he murmurs. “You’re getting a really big bonus next Christmas.”

I chuckle. “Why is everyone throwing money at me all of a sudden?”

“Well, how else can we thank you?”

It feels good to be appreciated, one of many things I love about this job.

“Okay, I think you’re good to go,” I say twenty minutes later. “Any more massage and that knot is going to throb like a mother in a few hours. I want you to drown yourself in water the rest of today—double what you normally drink. See if we can flush the toxins out of your system. Take Tylenol before bed and again when you wake up, before the morning skate.”

“Got it.” He stands up and is just pulling his shirt over his head when there’s movement in the doorway.

“Hey, Rowan.”

It’s been nearly ten years, yet I know that voice anywhere.

It sends shivers down my spine, and I’m grateful for Canyon’s presence as I slowly turn around.

“Hi, Blake.”

Jesus.

How has he gotten even hotter over the years?

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