Page 55 of Hat Trick

“Really? Tell me more. I love talking shit.”

Riley laughs and pops a chip in his mouth. “It was my rookie year. He was a dick. Never listened to any of the players’ concerns or bothered to ask what we thought about an injury. I’m all for tough love, but his methods bordered on sadistic.”

“I’m a woman.”

“Are you?” He tilts his head and stares at me through his glasses. The lens on the right has a smudge on it, and I have the inexplicable urge to pull them off his face, wipe them clean, and hand them back over. “I had no idea.”

“I mean I don’t have the luxury of acting like that. If I make one wrong move, I’m out of a job. That’s why I rely on a player’s input when asking about methods of treatment.”

I leave out the other parts: how I’m careful not to get too close to any of the players out of fear I’ll lose my job over fraternization. Acknowledging I’m probably getting paid less than my colleagues but not making a fuss about the pay discrepancies because I don’t want to be labeled as a bitch.

“I know Emmy experienced some of that behavior when she came into the NHL. I didn’t know it extended to other parts of the league too.”

“It does, but we don’t need to talk about it. I’m… honored, I guess, that you believe in me enough to ask me to be the one to lead your rehabilitation.”

“I didn’t have to think twice. I feel safe in your care.” Riley stares out the window to his right. “I really am sorry about not showing up today, Lex. I have good days, but I also have a lot of bad days. I’m trying not to let the bad days overshadow the good ones. It’s hell sometimes. I’m working on it. I promise.”

I remember what the girls said when we had dinner together, how I need to show up for him even when he doesn’t want to show up for himself, and guilt wraps around me. I set my sandwich down. I wipe my hands and reach across the table, pressing my fingers into his forearm.

“My behavior earlier was uncalled for. Showing up to your apartment? Demanding you get your act together? That’s… it’s shitty,” I say.

“I like that you’re holding me accountable.” Riley grins, and it’s fuckingbeautiful. Carefree, light. Brilliantly bright. I’d love to make him smile like that again. “Everyone else is tiptoeing around me like I’m going to break. And, yeah, I guess I might, given the whole one-leg thing, but I also need a reality check from time to time.”

I pull my hand back and cover my mouth to stifle a laugh. “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you.”

“You can laugh.” A dimple carved deep on his cheek shows up. “My therapist thinks humor is my coping mechanism.”

“We all have our things. Are you going to come with the guys to Pilates the week after next?”

“I’ll try. If I show up, how about we call that our clean slate? After you kick my ass on the reformer, I promise I won’t skip another rehab session.”

“Really?” Hope springs in my chest. “I’m game for a new way of life if you are.”

“Oh, I’m game, Lexi.” Riley pushes his plate out of the way and leans forward. He smells like soap and coffee beans, and I refuse to inhale his scent. “I’m going to be the best damn patient you’ve ever had.”

“Good luck, Mitchell. It takes a lot to impress me.”

“Guess I have my work cut out for me.” A cocky smirk is tossed my way. “It’s a good thing being the best has always come naturally.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Yeah.” His foot nudges mine under the table. I don’t pull away. “We will.”

EIGHTEEN

RILEY

Puck Kings

G-Money

I need an excuse to get out of Pilates on Friday.

Maybe I can say I have foot-mouth disease?

That’s contagious, right?

Huddy Boy

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