Page 49 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
My heart sank. “But you’re not ready.”
“According to the team doc, I’m close enough.” His jaw tightened. “They want me skating with the team next week. Full practice, not just the modified drills I’ve been doing.”
“Austin, that’s too soon. Your ACL needs more time to?—”
“I know,” he cut me off, frustration edging his voice. “But hockey’s a business, Kate. They’ve got playoff hopes riding on this season, and I’m getting paid millions to play, not sit in the press box.”
I sat up fully, unable to contain my scientific objections. “Rushing back too soon statistically increases your risk of re-injury by sixty-seven percent!”
He raised an eyebrow. “You researched that specifically?”
“Of course I did,” I said, heat rising to my cheeks. “I needed to know what we’re dealing with.”
“We?” His expression softened as he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I just meant...I care about what happens to you,” I stumbled, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “And the science is clear on this. Your body needs time to heal properly.”
Austin sat up, bringing our faces level, his eyes serious. “I’ve been playing through pain my entire career, Kate. It’s part of the game.”
“This isn’t just pain,” I argued. “This is structural integrity. Your knee?—”
“Is my problem,” he finished, though his tone remained gentle. “I appreciate your concern, but this is what I do.”
I swallowed my frustration, recognizing the stubborn set of his jaw. “At least promise me you’ll be careful. Listen to your body, not just your coach.”
“I always do.” His hand came up to cup my cheek. “Now, can we talk about something else? Like how fucking beautiful you look right now?”
“That’s not fair,” I breathed. “You can’t just compliment your way out of medical discussions.”
“No?” His eyes darkened as they drifted to my mouth. “What if I do this instead?”
He leaned in, capturing my lips in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened as I responded. My body reacted instantly, melting against him as his tongue slipped between my lips. I moaned softly, my hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders.
Just as things were getting deliciously heated, Austin’s phone rang shrilly from the coffee table.
“Ignore it,” I murmured against his lips, my fingers already slipping beneath the hem of his shirt.
He groaned, pulling back just enough to glance at the screen. “It’s Dennis. Might be important.”
“More important than this?” I asked, deliberately rolling my hips against him.
“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes darkening further before he reluctantly reached for the phone. “This better be good, Dennis.”
I sat up, trying not to pout as Austin listened to whatever Dennis was saying. His expression shifted from mild annoyance to something more serious, his jaw tightening in that way I’d come to recognize as his “hockey face.”
“Wait, how bad is it?” he asked, sitting up straighter. “Shit. When did they get the MRI results?”
I could hear Dennis’s voice on the other end, though not clearly enough to make out his words. Austin’s eyes flicked to me momentarily before returning to stare at the blank wall ahead.
“Tell Martinez I’ll be there tomorrow morning. Yeah...I know...Thanks for the heads-up.”
He ended the call, setting the phone down deliberately on the coffee table. The playful atmosphere of moments before had evaporated entirely.
“What happened?” I asked, placing my hand on his forearm.
Austin exhaled slowly. “Mendez’s injury is worse than they thought. Complete labral tear in his hip. He’s out for the season.”
“Oh no,” I murmured, immediately understanding the implications. “And they want you to?—”
