by Scott, Myra
“How’s that male nurse treating you?” Timmy suddenly said as the waitress slid a cup of black coffee in front of the young man, gesturing meaningfully at it. “Has he shown up in a sexy costume yet?” He cackled, pushing aside the coffee and reaching for Peter’s beer.
Peter slapped his hand away, glaring at him.
“Jake is a physical therapist,” Crash corrected with a roll of his eyes, thanking the waitress as she handed him a steaming mug.
Crash sniffed it curiously, taking a small sip. It was like drinking leaves… but it was okay, Crash decided. Not something he was sure he’d ever order again, but he could see Jake drinking this stuff all day long.
“Oh, good, Coach convinced you to do rehab?” Steven sighed. “When I stressed that ligament in my ankle, I put it off for months. I was almost out for the season. For good,” he murmured. “Good for you, Crash.”
The goalie didn’t answer, taking another small sip of his tea. He wasn’t about to tell them how much he hated the whole process and how bad he wanted to stop the sessions.
“So, this dude is sexy though?” Peter interrupted with another one of his wolfish grins. “Is he your type, Crash? Wait, do gay men have types?”
“Gay men aren’t aliens,” Steven shot back. “But yeah, is he sexy?”
Crash just laughed, not indulging them with an answer as he took another sip of tea. They were as hungry for gossip as teenage girls. It was hysterical really, the way that they flocked together in the locker room to talk about the latest girls they’d been seeing and who they matched with on Tinder.
Crash missed that, even though it’d driven him crazy back when he was still an active part of the team and probably would continue to do just that when he was finally able to join again.
That day couldn’t come soon enough. He’d have listened to years of gossip if it got him into the rink any quicker.
The raspberry of his tea was sweet on his tongue, and the warm liquid coated the inside of his mouth like tart candy, slipping down his throat.
His eyes drifted over to Timmy, who had sunk lower in his seat, arms crossed in front of him as his angry eyes narrowed back on Crash.
Crash lifted his cup in a silent cheer to the glaring defenseman as the rest of his team continued their playful banter, making Timmy’s scowl grow deep as a canyon on his boyish face.
Chapter Six
Jake leaned against the water cooler in the main lobby of the office; one arm draped around the side as he gazed absently out the glass windows lining the walls.
The words on the papers he’d been drawing up had started blending together into one long string of incomprehensible jargon, and he’d needed to take a few minutes to try and collect his thoughts again.
The sky beyond the cheerily-lit office building was moonless and cloudy, only a few stars brave enough to twinkle weakly from behind the grey veil overhead. Jake normally didn’t have to stay so late at the office, and he felt guilty that Monsoon was probably sitting by the door and waiting for him to come home for dinner, but Jake had put off his weekly paperwork for too long. He’d completely forgotten about it, in fact; he’d been so caught up in Crash and their time together. It was hard to get anything done when all he wanted to think about was the handsome hockey player and how their next session would go.
It was a little embarrassing even, the way Crash seemed to reduce Jake down to a schoolgirl with a crush. He was surprised he hadn’t started doodling Crash’s name in a notebook.
Though, he had to admit that Jake Wellerson had a nice ring to it.
He chuckled lightly to himself, shaking his head.
Somehow, Jake had managed to keep Crash’s appointments all week.
It was hard to believe that a full week had already come to pass since meeting Crash. With three rehab sessions done, they were a sixth of the way there. Only five weeks remained. Five long, long weeks of dragging the mountainous hockey player by the teeth through his exercises.
If that’s what Jake had to do to help heal, though, then he would gladly do it—and not just because he was so incredibly attracted to Crash’s steel grey eyes and dark hair—but because this was what Jake knew he did best. He’d always had an urge to help people, to make their lives just a little bit better. It was sappy, but Jake had always felt drawn to his career. When other kids around him were aspiring to be astronauts and presidents and musicians, Jake had known what his path was. He had a feeling, judging by the glint in Crash’s eyes whenever he talked about hockey, that the tall man had a similar feeling about his own career.
The secretary’s kitten heels clicked as she approached from behind, offering a tepid smile when Jake turned to look at her. Part of her job description included staying until the last physical therapist was done for the night so that she could do her final round through the building and then lock up the place. Jake had already promised her that if she wanted to go home that he would do those final tasks for her, but Lucy had refused the offer.
“It’s why they pay me the big bucks.” She’d grinned sarcastically four hours ago when Jake promised to be finished soon.
“Why the long face, Jakey?” She asked lightly, sipping from the paper coffee cup that Jake had brought in for her when he realized it was going to be a long night for both of them. “If you need help with your papers, I’m sure I can do something. Last week, Bart was stuck on his for an hour before I came to help him add up the billing sheets.” She chuckled, shaking her head.
“Nah, it’s not that. I’m almost done, I promise,” Jake responded hurriedly, unwilling to bother the woman any more than he already was. He knew she had a two-year-old at home who was probably waiting as eagerly for Mom to come home as Monsoon would be.
She shrugged. “It’s no trouble. I kind of like the office like this. It’s so quiet.”
Jake nodded. It was peaceful.
“Your trouble case has stopped calling four times a day,” she offered with an approving nod. “Working your Jakey magic on him?”
She always told him it was magic the way he could convince his patients to stay with their treatments as well as the results that they tended to see. In truth, it was little more than a refusal to give up. Rehab wasn’t fun or easy for anyone, it was grueling and painful and always harder than the patient expected. He understood how tough it was for them to stay with the program, but he also understood how vital it was in the process of regaining full strength and control of their body. While his patients tended to hate Jake during the process, they loved him after, and the look on their faces when they realized they could trust their damaged limb again was beautiful. Jake wished he could carry around a camera and snap those breathtaking moments when a young child would open a can of soda for the first time after a sports injury, or an elderly woman would pick up her grandchild for the first time after a stroke. Each moment was special, and it was what kept Jake so firm in his stances.
“We’ll see.” Jake shrugged with a smile. “I don’t think he’s going to make it too easy for me yet.”
“I got that impression, too.” She grinned, before suddenly gasping, “Oh!”
With a small start, Lucy whirled back around and rushed through the lobby to her desk as Jake took a few confused steps after her.
Shuffling through the papers on the side of her desk, she clicked her tongue before victoriously lifting a single white envelope into the air.
“I found this for you.” She smiled. “There’s no stamp so it must’ve been dropped off here while I was at lunch. I didn’t see it arrive. “
As she extended the sealed envelope towards Jake, he eyed it cautiously, noting the scrawl of his name across the front of the white paper. It was definitely for him. When Jake continued to balk, she laughed and thrust it into his hand.
“Do you know who it’s from?” she asked, eyeing the envelope curiously.
She wanted to ask if J
ake had finally started dating someone, but he hated talking about his love life and the men he was seeing. Even though the questions bubbled up in her, she forced them back down.
Jake just shook his head, clearing his throat. “Probably just from one of the guys around the office leaving a message.” He shrugged, taking a slight step back away from the secretary, the envelope held limp between two fingers, like he didn’t want to hold it in his whole palm.
Lucy arched an eyebrow. No one would’ve written a letter. They would’ve just said something or typed up an email. She just gave a nod, observing Jake’s usually happy mouth go taut and hard across his face. She decided then to stop asking about it.
“Now get back to your office and finish up. It’s late, Jakey,” she finally said, nodding her chin towards his open door.
“Yeah,” Jake agreed faintly. “Yeah, I will. Ten minutes, then we’ll be out of here. Okay?”
“Sure,” she responded, leaning against the corner of her desk as she watched him walk away. There was something odd about his stature now, the way that he shuffled his feet instead of his usual confident stride. A frown tugged at her lips, but she sighed and settled back down at her desk, tugging out her phone to resume her game of Candy Crush.
Jake pushed the door shut behind him, his body trembling. He swallowed hard, staring down at the envelope in his hand. Only his first name was written in an elegant, swirly writing that he recognized all too well.
Pacing slowly forward, Jake didn’t feel the ground beneath his feet as he moved. It was like he was floating, his soul hovering above his body and looking on as his numb body sank down into the cracked leather of his office chair.
It wasn’t a pleasant out of body experience. It was one spurred on by confusion and fear.
His heart thudded hard in his chest with rapid, heavy beats that reverberated against his ribs in a frantic rhythm. He wanted to rip up the letter or set it on fire or hurl it out the office window, but he knew it wouldn’t make any difference.
It had arrived and gotten to him.
With shaking fingers, he ripped the side of the envelope off, letting the creamy ivory shred of paper flutter down to the hardwood floor. He didn’t tug out the letter inside, just squeezed the envelope slightly between his fingers so that he could peer down into it.
After looking in, he flinched as though he’d been stabbed by the interior contents of the envelope, a hiss of shock parting his lips. Sharply shaking his head, he reached down and grabbed a lower drawer of his desk. He jerked it open, not looking at what rested within the open drawer.
Resting peacefully inside were at least a dozen other identical envelopes that had appeared over the last few weeks at his home, his favorite coffee shop, and even the library.
They were all the same, carrying the same message in that same flawless cursive.
I see you. I want you.
Chapter Seven
Crash glared up at his ceiling as he lay on his back, a quilted blanket he’d somehow managed to dig out from the bottom of his closet while balancing precariously on his good leg resting underneath his muscled body.
It was certainly less comfortable than that damn yoga mat that Jake was always carrying around, but for now it would have to do.
Folding his arms behind his head, he let his eyes drift shut as he slowly drew up his injured leg so that his foot rested flat on the carpet with his knee bent and pointed up at the ceiling. He exhaled slowly, counting to ten as he extended his leg out in front of him again, grunting and trying to hold his leg above the floor. When he finished counting, he let it flop down back to the floor, wincing at the slight pang that rippled through the joint.
Though he still wasn’t entirely convinced that there was a point to these exercises, he couldn’t let his team be without him. It had taken him a whole hour to figure out where the instruction pamphlet had vanished to.
His teammates needed and depended on him too much. If there was even a chance that these sessions would help him return to the ice a little quicker, then it was something that he would just have to bear. As long as Jake didn’t get too obnoxious about the whole weird tea thing, then maybe they could make this work.
Just the mere thought of the handsome therapist’s name made Crash’s blood simmer, like he was in a huge pot that had just been turned on, his whole body warming from his toes to his head. He was sure that if he looked at his reflection right now, his neck and cheeks would be tinted slightly pink from the burning blood tingling in his veins. He’d put up with this week of therapy in part because he enjoyed having Jake in his home. It was also possibly a portion of his sudden decision to continue with rehab, at least for now, though he would never have admitted such a thing – even to himself.
Swallowing, Crash bent his leg again, wincing at the faint pop of his stiff muscles. Even that slight discomfort wasn’t enough to cool him down though, and it certainly wasn’t enough to stop the raging hard-on that had swollen in his pants.
He groaned when he noticed it, poking upwards as large and noticeable as a stop sign on the road.
“Down, boy,” he muttered, as though the halfhearted command would have any difference at all, but his boner just throbbed in response, begging for attention.
Crash’s head fell back against the quilt, his arms extended at his side, and his knee still bent upwards. He’d been attracted to men before. Lots of men. But this was on a whole other level. He’d never been so excited just at the very thought of a man, especially a man that he hadn’t touched yet. He wasn’t sure if Jake was interested in him at all, the green-eyed man was nothing but cordially friendly. While the physical therapist had a tender warmth about him, Crash was pretty sure that was just part of his personality.
He’d never met a person like Jake. Having him around was like having a perfectly fluffy blanket that was always just the right temperature, warm enough to make you cozy and thin woven enough to let you breathe. Crash hated how much he enjoyed being around Jake. He hated how quickly the sessions passed, that Jake seemed to leave only the minute after he arrived. He hated that he could only see the therapist when he made an appointment. It was never enough.
Crash wanted more. He craved it.
A tremor rolled slowly up his body, making his toes curl and his fingers tremble. He drew in a shuddery breath, flashes of Jake blinking in front of his eyes. That smile, the way his sandy hair could hang into those gorgeous, gorgeous eyes. The toned strength of his arms and lithe legs. In Jake’s easy laugh, Crash could all but hear the sounds of pleasure that the therapist would make in bed.
It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair that Crash had been injured.
It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t play hockey.
It wasn’t fair that he felt this crazy, magnetic pull to a man that probably thought of Crash as more of a chore than a person.
That didn’t convince his body to settle though, and it certainly didn’t convince his blood to stop boiling so wildly that he could barely move. It was like his skin was on fire now, tingling with sparks of electricity that leapt from pore to pore with each thought of Jake that flickered through his mind.
Slowly, he let one of his hands wander, running over the swell of his burly chest down past his belly button.
His hand had only just brushed the elastic waistband of his basketball shorts when there was a sudden knock at the door.
Eyes springing open, Crash desperately counted the days, trying to figure out if he had another therapy session scheduled for the day.
“Crash!” Jake called after knocking again. “We’ve already been over this. You’ve got to let me in.”
The prone hockey player had to bite down so hard on his lower lip that it stung to keep himself from loudly moaning aloud just at the sound of Jake speaking his name.
He wrapped one of his arms around his mouth to keep himself quiet, internal
ly begging his body to relax and his hard-on to stop throbbing so intensely he could feel it thump like a heartbeat.
“Crash!” Jake called, only making Crash’s situation worse. “Let me in! I’ll bust down this door. Or I’ll go in the back and sneak in through that sliding glass door you keep forgetting to lock. You know I’m going to get in whether you pretend to be home or not!”
The therapist banged on the door again, the creak of the wooden porch squeaking under his feet as he paced back and forth, trying to look in the windows, though the blinds were drawn.
Crash rolled onto his side, his good knee pressing into the ground as he struggled to get up. Every movement was painful though, his whole body exhausted like he’d done a difficult workout rather than just a few little stretches.
He grunted, glancing up as Jake jiggled the doorknob again, “Crash, are you okay? Can you hear me?” he asked, his voice muffled as he pressed against the front door, trying to stare in the peephole. “Are you dead in there?”
The concern in his voice finally got Crash to cave. He rotated his body so that he was now seated, desperately trying to cover the swollen bulge between his legs with hands while still managing to look slightly natural.
“I’m fine!” Crash panted. “There’s a key.”
“Where?” Jake sighed.
“The mat,” Crash grunted. “Check under it.” He looked around desperately, considering putting a pillow in his lap though he knew that’d be way too obvious.
Instead, he awkwardly pressed his thighs together, though the pressure on his swollen girth only made a roll of pleasure shudder through him.
This was not good. Not good at all.