Page 12 of Fever Dream
“I’ve got it,” I assure him, trying to get him to leave. He finally seems to get the hint, and I close the door on him, relieved for this momentary distance. I have half a day of treatment still to go with Casey Calloway and I’m not sure how intact my sanity will be at the end of it. I am very quickly discovering that Casey might be proving to be too much of a good thing.
What I will say though is that his shower is amazing and I stand under the warm jets as my tired muscles soak in the water, my head clearing up at the same time.
That is until Casey barges his way straight back inside, arms full of clothes that he dumps on the vanity as I jump in surprise. I shift away from him, hoping he hasn’t copped an eyeful as he backs out of the room.
“I’ve left you some fresh clothes,” he calls.
“Thank you,” I grit out, looking over my shoulder to see him looking at me with amusement in his eyes. “What?”
“It’s cute how shy you are,” he laughs. “You forget I’ve basically grown up in locker rooms. Nudity is second nature to me.”
“How nice for you,” I return. “I, however, did not grow up in a locker room, so if you don’t mind …”
“Got it,” he grins at me, winking as he backs out of the room and closes the door.
Fuuuck. That was a close call as I look down at my hard dick, praying he didn’t notice.
***
“Ice rink?” Casey asks, looking up at the super dome we are standing in front of. He followed my instructions and is standing beside me in a pair of black sweats and a white, long sleeve top that squeezes across that lovely set of pectorals as he squints up at the building.
I am also in a pair of navy blue sweats and a white top, both smelling like the guy beside me in a way that is distracting every nerve ending in my body. I knew I should have insisted we drive by my apartment first so that I could put on my own clothes. This guy is going to be the death of me.
“Yep,” I grin, squeezing on his elbow as I lead us towards the revolving front doors.
“But why?” he presses, scratching his cute head.
“Because, dear Casey, if any sport knows about adductor strains it’s ice hockey,” I tell him as we step into the reception room. “It’s one of the most common injuries on the ice and that means the NHL has the best adductor intervention program in the entire world.”
“Really? I did not know that,” Casey says, glancing around curiously at the ice rink behind the thick Perspex wall.
“Really. We did a six-week intensive with the NHL while I was at Tottenham and I learned a lot from them,” I explain. “I was planning on bringing you here next week but there’s no danger if we start today. I’m planning on putting you on the ice at leastonce a week while we’re in the thick of your treatment so best get used to it.”
“I’m listening,” Casey nods, his interest clearly piqued at the prospect of doing something completely new. I wasn’t kidding about this. Adductor strains are such a problem in ice hockey that the NHL run intervention programs to strengthen muscles and prevent injuries before they happen.
At the same time, there is no issue in applying it in Casey’s treatment program although I am reverse engineering it a little for him. The NHL’s program keeps skatersoffthe ice, but I will be putting Caseyonit as a way to strengthen those muscles and build them up in a way he isn’t used to. Skating will also aid with his balance and realign his centre of gravity while also strengthening muscles that he doesn’t usually rely on for football.
Anything that aids future risk prevention is going to be useful for him. And the way he is looking out at the ice tells me he is going to bring his usual energy and drive out here too.
I’d scoped out this ice rink as soon as I found out where the Fever’s club rooms are located. It’s only a seven-minute drive away meaning I can get Casey back into the club’s ice baths and on the treatment bed without too much issue after we are done on the ice.
I leave him looking out at the rink where a mini class of preschoolers on block skates and penguin skate aids is taking place and pay for the hire of our skates. We are out on the ice within minutes, and I suck in a smile as Casey stumbles before I grasp him around the waist.
“Been a while,” he mutters, clearly unused to not excelling at something.
“You’ll get the hang of it,” I encourage, letting him hold onto me as we do a lap of the rink. Before long he is able to let go of me with only the occasional wobble and I smile as he sets sail.
“What’s the plan?” he asks, always needing to know where we are heading. It is one of the reasons I like to leave him hanging. It’s just too much fun.
“Not much for today,” I tell him. “Just get used to the ice skates and then next week we’ll bring out some hockey sticks and have some fun.”
“And by fun I presume you mean fun for you,” he smirks.
“Of course, Casey. What else would I mean?” I grin, trying to ignore the spark when he grips onto my hand and pulls me around the ice with him. I know I should let go, that I shouldn’t let him hold my hand as we circle the ice rink all alone now that the preschoolers have gone.
But I just let myself indulge in the feel of his hand against mine, just for a little longer, not even ignoring the sparks and tingles vibrating through my body as he slips and laughs again—the joy on his face almost too much for me to bear.
CHAPTER 6
