Page 4 of Breakaway to You

Giving me a single nod in return, he turned and walked out the door.

I let out a sigh, my shoulders slumping, not realizing how tense I had been.

How was I going to work with him every day? He was conceited and moody and just like every other stupid hockey player.

I closed my eyes and breathed out another heavy sigh, trying to let the and tension leave my body. Just because I had dated one stupid hockey player didn’t mean that all of them were stupid. Just most of them.

And I loved my job. It paid well, and I had worked hard to achieve it—working with athletes.

When I’d first gotten this job, it had felt like a dream come true. After I’d accepted the offer, I’d hung up the phone and immediately squealed out loud. I had called my sister, Quinn, as soon as I had got done jumping up and down, and she’d been equally excited for me, both of us screaming into the phone.

I’d been working as one of the assistants to the head physical therapist for the Chicago Blue Jays and had enjoyed working with professional athletes, but Tony had been old-school and hadn’t wanted to implement any of the new methods I’d learned in school. I was grateful for the job and the experience but had felt stifled. So when I’d been offered the job to be the head physical therapist for the Minnesota Wolves, I’d jumped at the opportunity. I could live out my career dreams and get to move back home to Saint Paul, to live with my sister again. It was more than I could have hoped for.

It had also come at the perfect timing.

I haven’t always hated hockey players. Hockey was actually the sport I wanted to be a physical therapist for. I had grown up a Minnesota Wolves fan, after all. My dad had loved hockey and instilled it in Quinn and me . It had been just the three of us, and on Wolves game nights, we’d order enough chicken wings to feed a small army and park in front of the TV.

Ever since, hockey had been a passion of mine, and despite being away from home, I had enjoyed working for the Chicago Blue Jays, even though they were one of the Wolves’ biggest rivals.

But then I met Jordan.

He’d been traded to the Blue Jays a year after I’d started working there. He was your typical tall, dark, handsome, burly hockey player, and…he had shown interest in me.

He hadn’t been the first hockey player to flirt with me, but he had been the first hockey player who had made me blush with his flirting and attention. His charismatic personality had instantly pulled me in, and the thought of a good-looking, successful, professional athlete being interested in little old me had made me feel special.

Thinking back now, I felt naïve for having gotten caught up in the idea of him, and I had stayed naïve for almost two years while we dated. Everything had seemed so perfect. We’d gotten to work together since I’d traveled with the team for about half of the away games, and my sister and dad had loved him. I had even let myself daydream of the two of us getting married one day.

Until I’d found out from a few of his teammates that on those away games when I didn’t travel with the team, Jordan was spending his time with other women. Lots of other women.

I had been devastated, heart-broken, and all the other words that described getting your heart ripped out and stomped on, all of it on display for the whole team to see.

Not only had I been nursing a broken heart, but I’d had to do it in front of my coworkers and players that I worked with daily. It was equal parts embarrassing and humiliating. Not to mention still having to work with Jordan. Mixing business and pleasure had never seemed so stupid.

My boss at the time had tried to discourage me from getting involved with a player, but I hadn’t listened. In the beginning Jordan and I had been good at keeping our relationship discreet, and I had naively thought that some harmless flirting and a few kisses couldn’t really hurt me or my job. Dating a player was definitely frowned upon, but the team had wanted to keep Jordan happy and so decided to let our relationship slide.

I’d refused to quit—because of him—without another job lined up, so as soon as we’d broken up, I’d started looking for a new job.

In less than a month, there had been an opening to work for the Minnesota Wolves, and I had actually cried at the possibility of not only leaving the Blue Jays and Jordan behind but moving back home.

This was now my second season with the Wolves, and it had been the best career—and personal—decision of my life. And I refused to let another hockey player ruin any of it for me. Not even someone as enticing as Zeke Lawson.

Chapter3

Zeke

My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline flowing through my veins. The roar of the crowd receded in my ears as I concentrated on the game around me.

It was my first pre-season game with the Wolves, and it felt…just like a first game. I wasn’t meshing with the other players, I didn’t know anyone well enough to know what to expect from them, and Piper’s dumb physical evaluation from almost a month ago was still bouncing around in my head. The urgency to show my teammates I still had what it took to be a professional hockey player and that I could be an asset to the team was so strong, I was practically begging them to pass me the puck. Yes, I might have been the oldest on the team, but that also meant I’d played this game the longest. They didn’t seem to care about experience, since they kept passing to Holden on the left instead of me.

To make matters worse, we were playing one of the Wolves’ biggest rivals, the Blue Jays. Even before donning a Minnesota jersey, I had never liked the Blue Jays. Especially Jordan Tuvalo. I’d disliked him since before he’d joined the Blue Jays, so his presence only added to my dislike for the team in general. And because I was a right wing, I got to have some up close and personal time with Jordan, as the Blue Jays’ left defenseman. Lucky me.

He’d already been chirping at me, and I wanted nothing more than to shove him against the boards. Unfortunately, I hadn’t touched the puck enough to have to deal with him too much tonight.

The puck was passed to Holden again—no surprise there—as we made our drive down to the goal. I raced down with him, making sure I was ready for whatever came next.

As the puck slid across the ice toward me, I quickly realized I wasn’t ready.

Shoot.

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