Page 44 of Offside

“Do you know it took me six months after my accident and back surgeries before I could fully walk again on my own?”

I shake my head, following her without resistance as she leads me back into the bedroom with an arm slung around my hips.

“I first walked on a treadmill with this contraption that hooked me in and kept me upright. I slowly graduated to a walker, then a cane, until I could finally move without assistance. It was the worst time of my life. I hated that my friends saw me like that. It was devastating for a sixteen-year-old’s psyche.”

I throw back the covers and slide into bed. Karis sits down in the same spot she was earlier.

“That must’ve been tough. But look at you now.” I give her an appreciative smile.

“Yes. Look at me now. And in a few weeks, you’ll be able to run that marathon again and do all the things you so badly want to do.” She blushes and turns away.

“Say it, princess.” I prod, a hint of amusement returning at how cute she looks when the topic of sex arises.

I grab her wrist and tug her down so I can slide my lips from her cheekbone to her ear.

“Fuck. The word is fuck. And believe me, I want to fuckyou,and sooner rather than later.”

I fall asleep minutes after making this bold statement.

* * *

When I awakentwelve hours later, light streams into the room and the smell of coffee and breakfast wafts through the crack in the door Karis must have left open.

A smile turns up at the corners of my mouth. My guess is Karis poked her head in every few hours last night to check on me throughout the night just like the doctor said to do.

Such a good girl.

My dick stirs in my shorts at the unbidden dirty thoughts I have from the idea of her obeying me. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and stretch. My body creaks and cracks with the sounds of a veteran hockey player. The aches and pains are nothing, however, compared to the agonizing thought of my future me if I’m not given the green light to play again.

I think of the greats in the game and what they accomplished post-career. Gretzky. Bobby Orr. Mario Lemieux. I’m not nearly as famous and will never rack up the kind of points they did, but I’ve hopefully left a big enough mark with the Vikings to have my number sent into the arena’s rafters.

Retired. The word leaves me with a gaping hole of uncertainty.

A soft knock on the door draws my attention from my pity session and I drag my gaze from the floor where I’d been staring into space up to Karis. She looks ravishing in an oversized cream Vikings sweatshirt and tight-fitting leggings, her blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail at the top of her head. Casual and understated. I’ve never seen her looking so fresh and comfortably sexy.

But let me tell you, she looks fucking fantastic in everything.

“Good morning.” She smiles, her eyes generously flitting over my bare chest. I tugged off my T-shirt last night when I grew too warm so now I’m only in my briefs. “I just wanted to let you know I made some breakfast if you’re up for it. Since you didn’t get to finish dinner last night.”

My stomach takes the opportunity to rumble loudly and I chuckle, making to stand from the bed and then remembering my balance is still a little weak. I wobble like a bender when I stand up.

I sit back down and throw the shirt over my head. Karis hands me the shorts I’d discarded last night.

“Thanks. Breakfast sounds good.” She nods and turns, heading out the door while I finish getting dressed.

Karis.

If the situation was reversed, would I step up and take care of her like she has for me?

Probably not. It’s not a natural tendency of mine to think of another’s needs above my own. Much to my mother’s chagrin, I’ve never been in a relationship where I’ve had to be responsible for another person, except for my hockey brothers.

Even within my own family, my mother was always the one who took care of the house for my dad and my younger siblings while I was growing up. I’ve lived solo for so long now I’ve gotten used to my single lifestyle. I’ve never even had as much as a goldfish to be accountable to. Until now, I’ve enjoyed being on my own.

Most of my teammates settled down and got married young. I never felt I would be good at balancing a career in hockey—playing 82 games a year with road trips and travel—and having a family to care for. Honestly, I don’t know how the guys like Nils and Canny and others married with kids manage the distraction in their lives.

I get to my feet again, this time with a greater degree of stability. Maybe a bit more slowly than usual, but I walk down the hallway to the kitchen, noticing Karis’s laptop and a pile of paperwork out on the dining room table. “Already hard at work, I see.”

She swings her head over her shoulder. “I’ve been on the line with Nate and the commissioner this morning.”

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