Page 14 of Major Penalty

That’s when I see him. He’s in the stretching area. Black workout shorts, black T-shirt, and black aura that screams, stay the hell away from me.

And my heart? It’s a mess at the sight of him. It skips, twists, flips, clenches, and then malfunctions entirely. Even with the hoodie, I can see the flex of his forearms as he rolls his wrist. The way he moves—tight, coiled, efficient—it’s like he’s holding himself together with thread and instinct.

This man doesn’t just make me nervous; he does something I’ve never felt before. He makes me feel like I’ve swallowed a live wire, hot and electric, sparking under my skin. He scrambles my brain. Scares me. Excites me.

I should leave. I should turn right back around and catch him after practice.

But then I see something unusual, and my brows furrow. He’s rotating his hip, his jaw clenches, and his brows dip together in a wince. It’s fast, barely noticeable, but I catch it.

He slowly straightens up, his strong jaw flexing, his inked hand curling like he’s fighting the urge to press it to his side.

He’s hurt.

My pulse skips again, this time for a different reason.

He’s trying to hide it.

Before I can think, my feet are already moving. I’m halfway through the door of the stretching rooms before I realize what I’m doing.

Chapter six

~ARES~

I hear her footsteps before I see her—soft and light, moving closer. My body locks up on instinct. My muscles go rigid. My breath stills. My pulse skips, then jolts back to its normal pace. And then I see her, standing in the doorway, watching me. There’s concern in her pretty big eyes, a small crease forming between her brows.

Shit. Did she see?

I was careful. I’m always careful. But for half a goddamn second, I slipped. Her eyes are sharp and filled with worry. A healer’s gaze. I fucking hate that.

“Something you need?” I clench my jaw.

What did you see, Irene?

She tilts her head, arms folding across her chest.

Defiant little thing.

“We haven’t scheduled your physical exam,” she says.

“Haven’t we?” My tone is lazy and detached, daring her to push more.

She does. She steps closer, tilting her head back to look at me.

“I think I know why,” she says, and my stomach tightens.She definitely saw.“The playoffs are coming up.” Her voice softens, turning quieter and understanding. “No one wants to get benched for an injury.”

“No oneisgetting benched for one,” I challenge.

Irene remains silent for a moment, looking up at me with a look I haven’t seen before. It’s unyielding, it’s defiant, it’s assessing. I remain silent, gritting my teeth.

“It’s your hip, isn’t it?” she whispers. “You don’t want anyone knowing you’re hurt.”

Yeah, she definitely fucking caught me wincing.

I step forward until there’s almost nothing between us.

“I don’t like people assuming things about me.” My voice drops low, hoping to scare her off. Surprisingly, she doesn’t flinch. There’s not a sign of the stammering girl from earlier. She’s in doctor mode, apparently.

“I don’t assume,” she says, her voice steady. “I see. And I see that you’re injured and need proper care. You’re only making it worse.”

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