Page 8 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

“Well, I need to keep up with my physical therapy, right?”

“Sure you do.” His tone has me immediately alert. “It’s just… I can’t spare anyone. I’m sorry, man, but you’re on the bench right now. The guys still playing need the med team more than you.”

“Oh,” I reply, feeling more than a little affronted.

By this point, Steve and John have stopped talking and, clearly hearing my tone, are now looking at me with furrowed brows.

“I can pay,” I offer.

“It’s not about the money, son. I’m sorry. Your hometown is just too far away. If you want to come back to the city, you’re more than welcome to come and get your therapy here.”

There’s no way I can face going back to the city. I’ve only just escaped from there.

“Right. Of course,” I reply, trying to keep my emotions out of my voice. Sounding perkier than I feel, I say, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. Thanks, Coach.”

When the call ends, John and Steve are still looking at me.

“Well?” Steve asks.

“It seems that once you’re off the team, you’re not a priority anymore,” I drawl sarcastically. “Coach won’t send anybody out here, so it looks like I need to start looking for another therapist.”

John gives me a look. “You won’t get any better than—”

“I don’t want to hear it, man,” I snap.

“Hey,” Steve says, scowling at me. “He’s only trying to help.”

I feel bad then, and heaving a sigh, I nod. “I’m sorry.” I look John straight in the eye. “I’m sorry, man. Really. I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now.”

“It’s cool, man. I know you have stuff going on. And if you don’t want to go back to Emma, that’s fine. But the next best therapist is a hundred miles away.”

Of course they are.

“Great,” I spit.

“Maybe you need to come at this from a different angle,” John continues. “Clearly, your fame isn’t going to help you. But maybe you need to show her that you’re not that kid anymore.”

“The thing is,” John smirks, “he is.”

“Hey.” I grin back.

Steve chuckles. “If you want her to treat you, you’re going to have to win her over. It’s that simple.”

“And how do I do that?”

John and Steve look at each other with astonished faces.

“This guy really is something, huh?” John says.

“He always was,” Steve replies with a smirk.

“I’m right here,” I protest.

“Exactly,” John says. “This ain’t the city, Ryan. That girl isn’t going to drool all over you like your fans do. You gotta treat her with some respect. Show her that you respect her and her profession.”

“You mean, grovel,” I quip back.

Steve chuckles. “Something like that.”

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