Page 9 of Over the Moon

“Let’s wear it at night for now, until we get in a couple of sessions.” She moved around the table, inspecting the other side of my knee. “You misread my frustration for hostility. You were reckless after the game, and I just can’t get behind that.”

I pushed to sit up, and her hand pressed down on my chest, and I fell back down on the table. “How was I reckless?”

“You didn’t know what your injury was, and you refused the wheelchair. You were too busy popping champagne bottles and having a good time. I get it, you just won the Stanley Cup. So, sit in a damn wheelchair and drink your bubbly,” she said, as her fingers traced over my knee and pressed down gently.

“I was fine on crutches. This isn’t my first rodeo with an MCL injury,” I said.

“I understand that you’ve had this injury before. I’ve read your file, Clark. But this is what I do for a living. I wouldn’t attempt to tell you how to play hockey, so please don’t tell me how to do my job. You’re lucky that it was just an MCL tear, but we didn’t know that at the time. And every time you tear the same ligament, it’s even more challenging to rehab and strengthen it. So how about you listen to me while we’re working together, so you don’t make me moving here for three months a waste of my time.”

She lifted my leg and slowly bent it until I resisted. She stretched my injured leg for the next few minutes, and it actually felt the best it had in a week.

I let her words resonate. I could feel her frustration, and I realized that I hadn’t looked at this from her perspective. It could have been a more serious injury, and she was basically looking out for me, and I’d brushed her suggestion off without a thought.

“I’m sorry for being an ass. This wasn’t a new injury for me, but you’re right, it’s more severe this time, and each time, ittakes longer to recover. I should have at least heard you out,” I said.

“It’s fine. Let’s just work on getting this leg stronger while getting you in shape for the season at the same time.”

I nodded. I wouldn’t say we were friendly yet, but at least she wasn’t shooting daggers at me.

She worked on my leg for probably forty-five minutes, massaging and stretching, and then she explained that we would move to upper body strengthening and stabilizing. I walked over to my phone and turned on my playlist.

I worked out to music. Always. It was my thing.

She quirked a brow. “Does it need to be so loud?”

“Yes.” I tried to hide my smile, because she was easy to get a rise out of, and I kind of enjoyed it. There was something about the way her dark eyes sparked when she narrowed her gaze at me.

“All right, I’ve got the workouts from Randall, and I’ve tailored them to get the max out of the workout without any strain to your knee.” She jotted down a few things in a notebook and then discussed the workout with me.

Today was going to be upper body exercises. Most could be done without any strain on my knee. I put the brace back on, and she moved from each machine with me, taking endless notes.

After an hour of pushing hard on the machines, I tugged off my shirt because it was hot as fuck. I wiped my face, and I didn’t miss the way her gaze moved down my chest and abs before snapping back up to look at me.

Interesting.

I smirked, knowing that she was enjoying the view, even if she was going to act like she hadn’t noticed.

“So what’s the deal with the blaring music?” she asked, not hiding the fact that it bothered her.

“It’s my thing.” I smirked before belting out the lyrics to “A Bar Song” along with Shaboozey. I swayed my hips back and forth to the beat as her cheeks pinked. “I like music, so you best get used to it, because I can’t work out with it.”

“And you need to dance and sing unusually loud while you work out, too?” she grumped.

“When I feel the need to dance, I fucking dance.” I barked out a laugh as I waggled my brows at her. I reached for her hand and spun her around, trying to lighten the mood. She surprised me when she didn’t pull back, and her head tipped back in laughter. I spun her a second time, and she shook her head, a wide grin on her face as the song came to an end.

“Okay, dance time is over,” she said, feigning irritation, but I didn’t miss the way her lips turned up in the corners. She gathered her notebooks and dropped them into her bag.

“So what’s the deal with the notebooks?” I asked, before chugging an entire bottle of water.

“I always use notebooks. It’s my thing, I guess,” she said.

We continued through the workout, music blaring, and there wasn’t a whole lot of talking, just Eloise telling me how to do the exercise in the safest way, as she hovered around and took notes.

“Do you take notes on all the athletes on the team?”

She paused with her pen in hand and glanced up at me. “Well, seeing as I literally just graduated and started this job and was immediately sent away for three months to work with only one athlete on the team, it’s fair to say that all the notes are about you at this point.”

“Wait, is this your first job?”

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