Page 23 of Offside for Christmas
Ellie broke eye contact first, turning back to her tablet with what might have been a hint of color in her cheeks.
"Next exercise," she said briskly. "Let's work on scapular stability."
Cole picked up the resistance band and tried very hard not to think about the fact that he'd just been staring at his physical therapist like a teenager with a crush.
Six weeks, he reminded himself.You're here for six weeks, then you're gone. Don't make this complicated.
But as Ellie adjusted his form, her hands confident and sure on his shoulders, Cole had the sinking feeling it was already too late.
At 8 AM, the main door banged open and voices filled the hallway—the Eagles arriving for morning practice.
Cole was finishing his cooldown stretches, and through the training room window, he could see the team filtering into the locker room. Mac spotted him and waved enthusiastically, grinning like they were old friends instead of near-strangers.
Cole gave a slight nod back.
The training room door burst open approximately thirty seconds later.
"Hansen!" Mac strode in with the energy of a golden retriever who'd just discovered tennis balls existed. "You survived another Ellie session! Dude, I'm impressed. Most guys are crying by week two."
"Mac." Ellie's voice had that warning tone that suggested this was a frequent occurrence. "We're not done—"
"Come on, El, let the man breathe." Mac turned to Cole, completely ignoring Ellie's death glare. "Hey, you're coming to the thing this weekend, right?"
Cole blinked. "What thing?"
"Mac, he literally just got here—" Ellie started.
"Christmas party," Mac continued, steamrolling over her objection with the kind of cheerful obliviousness that suggested it usually worked for him. "Cabin in the woods. Saturday night. Whole team goes every year. It's tradition."
"I'll pass," Cole said automatically.
"Dude, it's the best party of the year. Secret Santa, gingerbread house decorating contest, Ellie's famous hot chocolate—"
"It's not famous," Ellie interjected, her cheeks going slightly pink. She was very focused on reorganizing the resistance bands that were already perfectly organized.
"It's amazing," Mac continued, undeterred. "She makes it from scratch. With real chocolate and everything. Not that powdered crap." He turned back to Cole. "Plus ugly sweater contest. Very important."
"Sounds... festive," Cole said, his tone making it clear he meant the opposite.
Mac, as usual, missed the sarcasm entirely. "It is! Ellie basically runs Christmas in this town. She's on like five committees."
"Three committees," Ellie corrected, still not looking at either of them. "And I don'trunChristmas—"
"You organized the kids' skate event, the cookie decorating station, and you're literally in charge of the tree lighting ceremony sound system." Mac counted on his fingers. "Oh, and you're doing that gingerbread thing at your parents' bakery."
"Someone has to do it," Ellie muttered.
There was a beat of silence. Ellie looked up, and Cole was already watching her.
"You really hate Christmas," she said quietly. It wasn't quite a question.
"I'm neutral on Christmas."
"You're the least neutral person I've ever met." A hint of amusement tugged at her mouth. "You have opinions about everything from the thermostat temperature to the brand of resistance bands I use."
Cole felt his jaw tighten. "I just don't see the point of grown adults acting like it's magical when it's just... a day. December twenty-fifth. Same as any other day."
"It's not just a day to some people," Ellie said, and something in her tone made him look at her more closely. Her expression had shifted—still professional, but softer somehow. Almost sad.
