“They have hair videos?” Thor asked, ignoring me. Those had to be the first words out of his mouth in over an hour.
“You might have a little girl someday,” Hammer replied, nodding in my direction. “Then we’ll see how much you need hair videos. When my girls are with me, their mom’s not here to help, but someone still has to do their hair. And trust me, if it’s bad, I’ll hear about it from all the moms at the park.” Then he dug out his phone and pulled up some app or another. “YouTube’s better than Twitter for hair tutorials. I’ll show you which feeds to follow. And you can get good stuff on Pinterest, too.”
Thor took out his phone, too, leaning over to follow along with what was on Hammer’s screen.
I rolled my eyes. “See what I mean? But to answer your question, yes, I saw what RJ fucking posted. Anne’s father saw it first, actually, and he pointed it out to her. Haven’t talked to the asswipe yet. Thought it would be better for me to calm down before I rip his throat out or do something else just as stupid.”
“You should tell him to delete it,” Colesy said, like it was as simple as that. Maybe in his world, it was. He never seemed to get caught up in all the drama that sometimes took place around the locker room, like with the way he’d changed the subject away from Harry’s dilemma just now. He kept to himself a lot, other than hanging out with Burnzie.
“Deleting it won’t do much good now,” I pointed out. “Her father’s already seen it, and now he wants to meet me.”
Harry let out a slow whistle, and the rest of the guys laughed. “At least I’m not the only one with daddy drama,” he said.
I shrugged it off. That was just how it went when you got a bunch of the guys together for any reason. “If he’s seen it, you know the higher-ups in her production company have, too. It’s too late to change anything.” Too late to change things for the better, at least. Things could definitely get worse, and they might, depending on how meeting Anne’s father went. Or what her boss thought. No point in worrying about that until it happened, though.
But I could at least make sure RJ didn’t do anything as stupid as that again. I didn’t exactly need him fucking things up for me with Anne before we really got started.
MONDAY MORNING, I hit the trainers’ room early before practice, hoping for some relief. Despite all my efforts to stay off it and hope whatever was wrong would heal on its own, that wasn’t happening. When I rolled out of bed, my knee was more swollen than it had been since the injury. And it was stiff. Not a good sign.
I was still wary of walking in and telling them I needed to have it checked out, because they might decide to prevent me from playing through it, but the fact remained—with as swollen as it was right now, there was no chance I’d be able to hide it from them for long. Better to be up front about it than to lie and try to hide it. If I got lucky, they could give me a few treatments and I wouldn’t have to sit out any games at all, or maybe only a handful.
I wasn’t expecting to walk in and see Anne sitting on one of their exam tables, though. She had her injured ankle up and unwrapped so Ken Archer, the head trainer, could take a look at it.
Archie held her leg in one hand and her foot in the other, putting pressure on it at various angles and rolling it around. “No pain when I do any of this?”
She glanced up and saw me, then bit her lip and turned her attention back to him. “Nope. I think it’s good.”
“You just saying that because you’re sick of the crutches, or do you really mean it?”
“I’m done with the crutches whether you think I should ditch them or not,” she said. “I’ve got blisters on my underarms and my palms. Not worth it.”
“Hmm,” Archie said, scowling as he continued to manipulate her foot.
She didn’t wince or try to pull away, so either she really didn’t feel any pain or she was a good actress.
“All right. No more crutches, but you should keep it wrapped while you’re on your feet for at least a few more days. And try not to be on your feet as much as you usually are.”
“Ha. Good luck with that one,” she said.
He gave her the same kind of stern look he always gave us when we tried to come back too soon from an injury. “It’s healing, but it’s not fully healed. Unless you want to set yourself back, you’ll do what I say.”
The look she gave him in response was one that rivaled his, but she reached for the ACE bandage and started rewrapping it. “I’ve never been very good at doing what I’m told.”
“I got that impression already, strangely enough.” But Archie left her to take care of herself and came over to me. “What’s going on with you? That knee acting up?”
“You could say that.” I hopped up on the nearest table and pulled the leg of my pants up so he could see.
“How long’s it been that swollen?”
“Woke up with it this way this morning. And it’s stiff. A little better now that I’ve been moving around on it some, but it’s not great.”
Archie started poking around, moving the joint and whatnot to see what he could learn. I glanced over to find Anne putting on her shoe but peeking at me. I winked at her, but then Archie pressed a finger into a certain spot, and I hissed in a breath.
“Has it still been bothering you since that night you hurt it?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
“And you were scared I’d make you sit.”
“Yeah. That about sums it up.”
He scowled, but he didn’t seem surprised. I was surely not the first pro hockey player he’d ever dealt with who’d tried to hide an injury, and I wouldn’t be the last, either.
“Did you hear a pop when it happened?”
“Nope.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Anne picking up her backpack and a few other things, but it appeared she was taking her time about it. So she wasn’t in any big hurry to leave? Fine by me. I kind of hoped we’d be able to talk for a minute or two, now that we were in the same place.
“Are you having any problems with stability?” Archie asked, still working the joint so much I was tempted to kick him.
“None. It just hurts. And it’s swollen and stiff.”
“Where does it hurt, specifically?”
“I don’t know,” I said, trying to pinpoint it in my mind. But to be honest, the pain was just kind of all over the place, not in any one spot. “It’s just the whole knee.”
Archie nodded and finally let go of my limb. “All right, so here’s the deal. My guess is you’ve at least strained or sprained your ACL, but we’re going to have to do an MRI to determine that for sure and understand just how bad it is.”
“And once we know that?” I asked, dreading his answer.
He sighed. “If it’s just a sprain and not a tear, Doc will probably let you keep playing on it because we’re in the playoffs. He might have you sit for a couple of games to rest it, but after that, he’ll probably leave the ultimate decision up to you.”
“Which means I’ll be playing.”
Archie chuckled. “Sounds like it.”
“But if it’s a tear?”
“I don’t know what’ll happen if it’s a tear. You’ll need surgery to correct it, but you’ve still been playing on it, so…” He shook his head. “I’m not the doctor. It might not even be your ACL. I don’t know. You’ll have to take it up with Doc, no matter what the diagnosis is. But for now, I’m putting in a call to him, and then I’m sending you over to the hospital for an MRI. And don’t keep shit like this from us, dumb ass,” he said, knocking me lightly on the side of the head. “You could have been making a small problem worse this whole time.”
Then he walked out, and Anne gave me a sheepish look.
“Didn’t mean to walk in on you like that,” I said.
She shook her head. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.” She shrugged. “I probably should have left when I was done and not listened in.”
“That’s your job. To listen in.” I winked.
“Listen,” I started, not really sure how to say what was on my mind, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about that picture. I’m going to have it out with RJ. He knows better than to post things like that—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But I am worried about it. That’s the thing. I mean, I don’t give a rat’s ass if the whole world sees that I’m into you. Because I am.” I angled my head toward her to emphasize my words. “I’m really into you, even if it would be better for me—well, better for you, I guess—for me to stay away from you. But I know things are different for you. With your family, maybe. Definitely with your job…”
“Don’t worry about my job. Let me worry about that.” Anne took a seat next to me on the exam table, and her arm brushed against mine. She shivered.
I turned so I could see her eyes. “Are you? Worried?”
“Not exactly. I mean, yeah, I’m expecting my boss to call me in for a meeting sometime today, but if it wasn’t this, it’d be something else.”
“What do you mean?” I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that she sounded so completely resigned, like it was inevitable for her job to be in jeopardy.
“Just that if it’s not this, it’ll be something else. They’ll find some other reason to replace me.” She punched my upper arm. “Hey. No sad faces. I’ve known all along that I didn’t have long in this position. It’s not like it’s any big surprise.”
“It’s bullshit, that’s what it is.”
Her smile was enough to ease the ache in my knee. “Glad you think so, at least. But seriously, the picture’s not a big deal, even though I didn’t know about it up front. Don’t do anything to ruin your friendship with Jezek over that.”
“RJ’s the one who made the decision to post it.”
“And you can be the one who decides to take the high road. Be the bigger man.”
I laughed and winked. “At least this once, I can be bigger than him.”
She just shook her head, her lips pursed to keep her from laughing out loud.
“I know I basically promised to kiss you next time I saw you,” I said, glancing around the trainers’ room. It felt like a doctor’s office, only there was a permanent stench of sweaty hockey pads instead of the typical cold, sterile scents. “I wasn’t counting on this being that moment, though.”
“Not too romantic, huh?” she said, stifling a grin. “Good thing I’ve never been the romantic sort.”
“No?”
“I spend too much of my time around men.”
“Some men can be romantic.”
“Sure they can.” She narrowed her eyes to sarcastic slits and nodded slowly.
“Should I take that as a challenge?”
“I wouldn’t know what to do with you if you went all romantic on me.”
There was no chance in hell I could stop myself from grinning…and from considering myself duly challenged, whether she thought she wanted it or not. “I might like to see that.”
“Hmm.”
We were still alone. A glance over my shoulder confirmed it. And I had promised to kiss her. I leaned in, my lips close enough to hers that I could feel her warmth. She had a cinnamon scent on her breath, strong and spicy. Seemed fitting.
Those honey-gold eyes stayed on mine, reflecting both desire and surprise.
But Archie threw open the door before I got my kiss in, interrupting us and destroying the moment.
Probably for the best, anyway. Stale hockey pad stench wouldn’t make for a good memory to go with a first kiss.
DAVID WEBER SKATED over to me as the team was leaving the ice after practice. Nate hadn’t been out there with them—he’d gone to the hospital for his MRI, and there hadn’t been any further update since he’d left—but otherwise, most of the team had been involved, other than a couple of the older guys who were nursing injuries that would have kept lesser men completely out of games as opposed to simply missing a few practices.
It had been a relatively upbeat session, the guys proving to have a lot more energy than I did, despite the fact that they’d already completed an eighty-two-game regular season and a tough six games in the first round against the Sharks. The meeting this morning with my boss had drained almost every ounce of gumption out of me, and all I wanted to do was crash in bed and not come out for a week.
In short, I wasn’t fired—yet—but only because they didn’t have anyone in line to replace me. Yet. Oh, and because my guys had all threatened to walk out if they kicked me to the curb. In short, if I left, they’d have no film crew, no editor, no footage… They wouldn’t have anything. So they were stuck with me. But more than ever before, I knew I was living on borrowed time.
Too bad Archie had walked in on us before Nate had kissed me. A kiss would have done a world of good in terms of boosting my ego right now. But that hadn’t happened, and I didn’t know when it would, so all I wanted to do was sulk.
In fact, going home and digging into a vat of ice cream covered in chocolate and caramel syrup sounded like an excellent idea. With a banana. I could make it a banana split. That would make it healthy, or at least healthy enough that I wouldn’t feel any guilt about it.
I couldn’t do any of that until I figured out what David Weber wanted from me, though.
He’d seemed to be in a good mood, relatively speaking, throughout the team’s practice, but that didn’t give me much reassurance. I still remembered the glare he’d given that reporter in San Jose, and in my current state of sulking, I didn’t think I could handle being on the receiving end of one of those.
“You planning on working tonight?” he asked. “Or are you taking time off?”
Not what I was expecting. At all. “The guys and I were going to get together in about half an hour to discuss what we could film tonight, so I’m not sure yet.” My hope was that they could each figure out somewhere to go, something to do, that wouldn’t require my presence. Sometimes, a person just needed a night alone.
Weber nodded thoughtfully. “Well, if you and one of your guys want to come over to my house tonight, you’d be welcome. My youngest daughter’s still in town until tomorrow morning. We’re going to watch Game Seven in the Kings-Blackhawks series together.”
I nodded, but there wasn’t anything about that to interest me more than my enormous banana split, so I doubted I’d take part in it. I could send Ben, though…
“And we’re expecting a call from Luke,” he added with a meaningful look. “His press conference is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.”
There wasn’t any mistaking the fact that he was fully opening himself and his family up to me this time, no matter what this call might be about. “You’re sure?” I asked. “Because I know you signed the releases and all—”
“We’re sure. I’ve talked it over with Laura, Dani, and Katie. Luke’s opening up to the press tomorrow, whatever it’s about, so there’s not really any difference where he’s concerned.”
“But shouldn’t it be a private thing at first? Just the family?”
“Isn’t that what Eye of the Storm is all about? Showing the world what it’s really like to be part of this family?”
Well, then. There wasn’t much I could say to that.
LAURA WEBER HAD been nursing the same glass of red wine for the last thirty minutes, taking nervous sips that I was sure Ben’s camera was picking up while her focus was supposedly on the television. She’d been perfectly friendly toward the two of us, offering food and drink and acting more like a hostess than someone having her personal life invaded for other peoples’ entertainment, but now that her husband’s focus had switched to the game, her nervous tics were starting to make themselves known.
During the first intermission, they’d shown coverage of the protest in downtown Chicago from this afternoon. Tensions had been very high, but thank goodness there hadn’t been any violence—just a lot of yelling on both sides. But no one had ta
ken out a weapon. I was honestly worried about that, especially with the possibility that the Storm would be heading to Chicago soon for the second round of the playoffs.
The Blackhawks and Kings were tied at two in the second period, and David Weber was oblivious to everything going on around him.
Dani had gone between halfheartedly watching the game and passing surreptitious glances in her mother’s direction, clearly worried but seemingly unsure how to make things better for her. I doubted there was anything to be done. Until Laura learned what this phone call and the impending press conference were about, she was going to behave like a Nervous Nellie.
Normally, I didn’t interrupt when we were filming unless we were doing a segment that was more like an interview or confessional. Otherwise, I did my best to stay out of the way. Tonight seemed like an excellent opportunity to help someone out, though, and we were in a holding pattern until Luke Weber decided to call his parents, so I decided to break my own rule.
I waited until Dani got up to refill her drink, and I followed her to the kitchen. Ben gave me a questioning look, so I shook my head, letting him know to stick with the parents. This wasn’t anything he needed to get on film.
“I hope you don’t mind me coming to you like this,” I said once Dani turned around and saw me. She smiled slightly, even if it looked like she was putting on a show for my benefit. I hoped what I wanted to bring up would help. “But the thing is, I couldn’t help but listen in on your conversation with your sister the other day, and I’ve got an idea I wanted to run by you—about your independent study for this summer.”
Suddenly, she got a lot more interested, perking up and raising a brow. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“See, my dad is a bariatric surgeon. He does weight loss surgery,” I added, since most people didn’t get it at first, and she was giving me a questioning look. “So a lot of his patients have lost a hundred pounds or more, but they’re still kind of lumpy in places, or they have loose skin that gets in the way. It’s really hard for them to find clothes that fit right and look good. He’s got one patient who’s a little over a year out from her surgery. She’s lost a ton of weight and is holding steady, but it’s still too soon to get any sort of plastic surgery to deal with it, and she might not be able to afford it…so she needs clothes that work with her body, not against her.”
Game Breaker (Portland Storm Book 14) Page 12