Page 4 of Stick Side
Catherine Jr. repositioned a cotton grocery bag, which Ben hadn’t noticed during his earlier inspection, on her shoulder before looping her other arm through Cassidy’s and pulling him across the room. Ben couldn’t help but notice her familiarity with the space, as well as the way she smiled warmly at a great many of the players she passed. Their faces lit with pleasurablerecognition as they smiled back. Some even offered a friendly wave.
Ben glanced curiously at Richie. Like so many of the other players, it was obvious he was acquainted with the woman
“Who is that?” Ben asked as he gestured at the dark-haired woman moving toward them.
Richie looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. “That’s Melody,” Richie explained slowly, as though he were pointing out the obvious.
“And Melody would be . . . ?” Ben waved his hand in an exaggerated tell-me-more gesture.
“Oh!” Richie said in surprise. He shook his head as if he were trying to jostle everything back into place. “I keep forgetting you’ve only been here for a few weeks instead of the years that I have. In some ways, it kind of feels like we’re both playing for the Flyers again, you know?”
Yeah, Ben thought. He and Richie had been close during those years. They’d hung out, known the same people, and frequented the same places. Ben supposed it was only natural that one of them might time warp every so often and assume the other knew the same people and places they did. But still.
“And Melody would be . . . ?” Ben prompted again.
Richie smiled sheepishly at having forced Ben to repeat his question, but he didn’t waste any more time.
“Melody is Coach McGuire’s daughter.”
Chapter 2
Melody
Melodybeamedasshedragged Eric—Cassidy to these guys—over to team captain Kevin Phillips. She waved at all the players she recognized along the way.
It had been a good day. A really good day. She’d had a breakthrough with one of her patients and she was thrilled by their progress. She liked to think she was an upbeat person, but she knew she was walking with even more pep than usual. There was just something about helping her patients feel better that made her all the more ecstatic about the career she’d chosen. It might have taken her seven years of intensive study to earn her doctor of physical therapy designation, but days like today made it all worthwhile.
Melody had been living in Chicago for just over a year now. She’d originally planned to stay in New York after completing her program, but life had caused her to re-evaluate. She’d had a few competitive job offers, but after being unceremoniously dumped by her boyfriend, New York had lost its luster and she’d been left with an overwhelming desire for a change of scenery.
It had felt like fate had stepped in when a short-term physical therapy position had come up with her dad’s team. The Challengers had needed someone to step in fast and she’d been available. Melody knew she’d gotten the temporary position on merit, but nepotism had opened the door.
Her aspirations didn’t include building a career as an athletic therapist, but she’d seen the opening for the golden opportunity it was and jumped on the chance. And she hadn’t regretted it. It had been the perfect bridge to get her to Chicago where she’d found her dream job at The Winchester Retirement Residence.
“Hey, Mel,” Kevin greeted her. As was his habit, he opened his arms and pulled her into a big bear hug.
“Hey, Kev,” Melody returned as she stepped back from the hug. “How’s the knee feeling?”
“It feels amazing. You’re an absolute lifesaver. I can’t thank you enough for coming over and working on it over the weekend. It made a world of difference.”
Melody smiled at Kevin’s praise. Her contract with the Challengers may have ended a few months ago, but after forming bonds with the players—both personal and professional—she was happy to step in and lend a hand when she was able.
“Hey,” Eric interjected, moving a little closer to loop his arm around her shoulders. “What do you mean you went over to Phillips’ place and worked on his knee? You never help me with my injuries now that you’ve left the team.”
Melody couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she angled her chin to look up at him. “The reason I don’t help you with your so-called injuriesanymoreis because you were forever fabricating complaints in order to finagle a massage out of me.”
“What can I say?” Eric said as he gave her shoulders another gentle squeeze. “I miss you, Mel. You have such a big heart that I know you can’t turn down the opportunity to help a friend in need.”
Melody’s heart constricted. “You don’t have to pretend you’re injured in order to see me, you know.”
“I know,” Eric sighed. “That’s why I stopped trying to get you to treat phantom injuries—even though you really do give the best massages.”
Melody couldn’t help but smile at the compliment.
Eric’s lips quirked with a tinge of regret. “I know you’d rather help rehab seniors than athletes, but I still wish you’d kept your job here. It’s been hard going from seeing you most days to only seeing you every few weeks.” His smile hitched. “There’s just something about you, Mel. You make everything better.”
“Eric . . .” Melody said, not sure how to fully express her feelings about what he’d just admitted.
Based on some of the things Eric had said to her over the year they’d known each other, anyone else might assume he was halfway in love with her, but she knew better. It wasn’t personal. He was a great guy and an even better friend, but she sometimes thought charm had been written into his genetic code. He was the type of person who would flirt with a lamppost if given the opportunity.
