Page 29 of Off Limits PUCK

Chapter seventeen

Allie

Ican tell thatJake needs me. It’s killing me not to be able to reach out to him, to pull him close to me and comfort him. Even if there is absolutely no future between him and me, I still want to be there for him. He’s a big shot hockey star. I keep forgetting that because I knew him way back when, before he was famous.

My phone in my pocket is blowing up. I already checked earlier. It’s Kenzie. She is freaking out about her brother and is not being allowed in the back of the building where the locker rooms are.

I watch Dr. Jones pull out a small flashlight and check Jake’s vision and eye contractions. He checks his reflexes. He checks every damn thing while I just stand there waiting for my turn to assess Jake’s shoulder. I see him differently now than when I first joined the Eagles’ PT team. Then, he was just my client Ihad a crush on, a client who gave me exciting sex in the closet on the opposite side of the very room I’m in right now.

As I look at him in this moment, I see him as my client and also as my lover. Former lover. I can’t go back to him again. I have to think of my future, my career.

Finally, Jones steps aside, and I am allowed to feel Jake’s shoulder. I’ve always been told since I got my degree that I’m better than most PTs because I’m not only clinical, but I’m also intuitive. Underneath the mound of swollen flesh on Jake’s back where his shoulder blade should be, I can feel the lumps. It doesn’t take me long to assess that he’s going to be just fine.

There are no tears. He’s just had a setback. It will be a huge setback but it can be overcome. I look Jones right in his eyes and tell him what I think.

He visibly relaxes. Then he says, “Coach trusts you. Run up to the players’ bench and tell him. I could call him, but I want you to answer his questions. I still think we should get Jake to the ER for a scan, but this is good news that we can share as our opinion, not as fact.”

I know what he means, or I’d start to feel annoyed by him. Without a scan to back up my assessment, then my assessment is just an educated opinion, a guess. I nod, looking at Jake with what I hope is an encouraging smile. Then I turn and walk briskly back to the ice.

I get chills every time I’ve walked this hallway that separates the locker rooms from the arena ice, from the rink surrounded by thousands of fans. It’s almost like hallowed ground. So many players, champions, have walked this hallway like waddling penguins in their skates.

It’s inspiring, even for a non hockey player like me. I feel so small and insignificant as I walk this path by myself today. I pass the security guards and step into the opening that takes me to the players’ box. Coach spots me right away.

“I know Jones. So it’s good news, or else he would not have sent you here. He would have texted me and let me deal with my own feelings on the topic.” Coach looks relieved.

We turn our back from the arena as the game continues to be played on the ice. I’m sure every camera is focused on us, every commentator trying to read our lips to get the first revelation of the great Eagles’ captain’s health condition. I hold up a clipboard I see on the bench to cover my lips, so only Coach can see me speak.

“He’s stable. No new tearing or injury on his shoulder.” We share a long, long look.

“Go on,” he finally says, his voice far less tight and stern than it was.

“He’s going to the ER for a scan to verify what I felt. And he’ll receive a scan for his concussion, too.”

“He’s gone, then?” Coach says.

I nod. “Yes, by now, I would imagine so.”

“I’ll make a statement after the game once we know more.”

I raise a skeptical eyebrow. “If we even know anything more by then.”

“A doctor will be able to give me an official statement that I can then paraphrase for the media. I’m going to push for the player who did this to get suspended for a few games. What he did is not good sportsmanship.” His voice is angry.

I keep my silence. This isn’t a topic that is my business. I glance down the hallway. If I sprint, I might be able to go to the hospital with Jake. I want to be by his side through all of this. And if the way he was looking at me is any indication, he wants that too.

But Coach’s eyes turn cold. “You will remain here with me. I assume all our other PTs are with him on the way to the ER. We need one here on the bench, just in case.”

I look around. He’s right. They all jumped ship when their star player was hit. That leaves me with the sole responsibility of being here in case another player needs me. I press my lips together. I feel set up. Between Jones sending me here knowing I’d have to stay and then Coach telling me that I have to stay, it’s not hard to recognize that they are sending me a clear message: stay away from Jake.

I turn from Coach, place the clipboard down and look at the ice, pretending to watch the game. Inside, I’m mad. This feels so unfair.

My phone buzzes again, but I wait until we are on a commercial break and the players have gotten their waters and a new line is sent out on the ice before I check it. It’s Kenz. I tell her what I think is acceptable without breaking any privacy rules that Coach might hold against me.

I text, “He’s okay. Don’t say a word. But he’s okay.”

Kenz, “Oh thank God! I saw him go down and about lost my mind. That asshole guy on the other team—shoving him like that!”

I quickly type, “Can’t text. I’m on the players’ bench on standby in case another incident happens.”

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