Page 7 of Over the Moon

I usually start at 5:30 a.m., but 6:00 a.m. works for me.

I chuckled because I loved a salty comeback.

Egomaniac Chadwick

Great. See you tomorrow.

I switched over to my work notebook and took a look at my workout plans for Clark. I’d met with Randall Tallon, who was the athletic trainer for the Lions, to go over the conditioning that I’d focus on, and then we’d be doing physical therapy to heal and strengthen that knee. Randall would be working with every other athlete on the team, while the diva got all of my attention. My father was adamant that I come here and focus on Clark. He was their star player at the moment, and my father raved about the guy like he was some sort of god.

Ridiculous.

Yes, he had an amazing season. The best of his career.

But from where I was sitting, the man was reckless. He sustained an injury in the final game, yet he celebrated and partied as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

But it wasn’t my job to monitor his behavior.

It was my job to heal him and make sure he was in the best shape of his life when he returned to the city in a few months.

And that’s exactly what I intended to do.

three

. . .

Clark

I was usedto getting up and going for a run, but I knew running wasn’t an option at the moment. Hopefully, in a week or two, I could get back out there. I wasn’t sure how long this recovery would take. I’ve had issues with my MCL in the past, but this was definitely the most severe injury I’ve had to date.

I was a mellow dude in most aspects of my life, aside from hockey.

My job.

My profession.

My passion.

So I was feeling anxious about getting back into my routine.

There was a knock on the door, and I shouted for her to come in while I popped the last bite of banana into my mouth and slammed my protein shake.

“Hello?” she called out.

“I’m in here.”

She came around the corner, her light brown hair pulled back in a long ponytail, not a stitch of makeup on her face. She was naturally beautiful, no question, but she appeared to have a bigattitude where I was concerned. Her dark brown eyes met mine, and they blazed with obvious displeasure.

She was clearly still annoyed.

I wasn’t used to anyone being quite so irritated with me, if I were being honest. I was a likable guy, and I got along with most people. So this had me slightly off-kilter. She was not only my physical therapist, but she was Coach Gable’s daughter, and I loved the dude. I couldn’t have his girl hating on me for the next few months.

She dropped the large duffle bag that she was carrying on her shoulder on the floor and folded her arms over her chest. She wore a black fitted tank top and black athletic shorts. They weren’t showy in the slightest, yet they hugged her curves in the most distracting way.

“Who shit in your cornflakes?” I asked.

“Excuse me?”

“What’s with the attitude? You’ve been here for all of two seconds.”

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