Page 37 of Levi

I shouldn’t even be here right now, but Ally didn’t agree apparently.

Unfortunately, because Ally is…well, Ally…she took the liberty of handling my schedule the other day when my uncle mentioned he wanted Cooper, Simmons, and Jax looked at. Instead of passing the information along to me like she was supposed to, she went ahead and scheduled them for this afternoon—knowing I’d been looking forward to having an afternoon at home.

With Levi.

Which is probably why she sabotaged it anyway. What a twat.

It’s not like she could have known last night was special. Hell, I’m not even sure Levi knows it was special. But to me, it was.

To me, it felt like the beginning. The beginning of what, though? I’m still not sure.

I’m still wrapping my brain around everything. So much has happened, and with that came the realization that I’m so confused our relationship—more specifically if it’s fake anymore.

Did last night give me clarity? Or am I so confused that I just think I have it all figured out?

I guess only time will tell. It’s just unfortunate that patience has never been a virtue for me.

That’s part of why it’s so difficult being here instead of with him. Last night was fun, and now I’m desperate for more. When we drove off after nearly getting caught with our pants down—well, with Levi’s pants down—we laughed the entire drive home. While the tension was still there, it wasn’t the only thing on our minds. We were just enjoying each other and laughing at what had happened.

We had fun in ways I’m not used to. Usually, the only fun we have is when the night ends with us fucking, but that didn’t happen this time. Well, technically, he came, but I didn't mind.

When we got home, I thought we would end up naked, but the second we walked through the door, our stomachs started growling. The nachos from earlier weren’t enough, so we ended up eating frozen pizza before falling asleep on the couch, watching whatever ’90s sitcom was on.

It was the best night, and I just want more—more time with him, more laughs, more kisses. Being here in the office isn’t going to get me that. It was easy at first because he had practice this morning and then worked out with some of the guys, but now that it’s afternoon and he’s done for the day, I’m ready to leave.

Knock, knock.

The sound behind me brings me out of my daydreams. Looking at my watch, I see it’s already two-thirty, which means Jax is here to get his ankle looked at. Then I’m free.

I open the door to find Jax smiling on the other side, a grin I’m sure makes all the girls beg for him to take them home. But to me, he just looks like a sweet puppy, excited to see people.

“Hi,” he says with a big smile before walking into my office.

He’s walking so much better now. Before, he had a tiny limp, one that would be barely noticeable to the average eye. But when your passion is helping people get stronger and heal their bodies so they can keep doing the things they love, you notice everything.

It also comes from the years of schooling and training I’ve done, along with growing up spending time with my uncle at the rink. That combination made me even more aware of the little things to look at when dealing with hockey players.

“Hey, Jax, how’s that ankle treating you?” I ask as I shut the door and grab my clipboard so that I can take notes, making sure we’re staying on track.

Luckily, today’s appointment is short and painless, just checking flexibility to see how everything is moving. He’s been saying for a while that it no longer hurts, and while I want to believe that means he’s doing better, there are other factors I want to look at. I mainly want to make sure he’s not forcing his other muscles to pick up slack and learning to move and do things just a little differently. Yeah, it can be effective, but in the long run, you’re not actually fixing the problem; instead, you’re opening the door up to other injuries.

“Hey, Quinn,” he says as he hops up on the bench, already knowing I like to get down to business. Small talk is cool as long as we work at the same time. “The ankle’s been good. I’ve been doing the stretches you gave me every night and morning like a good boy.”

“I’m glad. They may seem silly, but even working on those little movements and small muscles can help your bigger muscles in the long run. I would hate to see you get injured again, especially with how well you were playing last year before you got hurt.”

“Thanks. That’s the goal. I’d like us to get another Stanley Cup if we can.”

“I think you guys can pull it off. The way Levi was scoring the other night, I wouldn’t be surprised,” I tell him, moving his ankle around a bit.

I’m happy to see that he was telling the truth about doing the stretches. It’s obvious how much stronger and more flexible his ankle seems, even in the few weeks since we’ve started working on it.

“How’s everything going with Levi?” he asks. I look up, and he’s got that look—like a little kid just begging for a cookie, except in this case, it’s a grown man begging for gossip.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how’s your boyfriend?” he jokes.

“Levi—our friend—is great,” I poke back. He knows we’re fake; he’s just in a teasing mood and choosing to be a dick.

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