His Game, Her Rules

by Charlene Groome

  “He doesn’t realize his strength,” Ty says, holding her, waiting for his teammate to return.

  “He knows his strength. He wants me off the team.”

  “Maybe we should call an ambulance.”

  “No, I’ll be okay,” Eileen says, not wanting to cause more of a disturbance than she already has.

  Brandon comes back and walks on the other side of her for support.

  “I’m going to grab my wallet and shoes,” Ty says. “I’ll be right back. Will you be okay? I’ll be quick.”

  She nods slightly, bracing herself on the bench with her left hand. She closes her eyes and takes some deep breaths.

  “Ty will look after you,” Brandon says. “He’s a good guy.”

  Eileen responds with a small smile.

  Ty returns fully dressed and grabs her bag. She slowly makes her way to the parking garage elevator with a guy on each side.

  When they reach the secured parking lot, Ty says, “I’ll go get my truck. Wait here.” She watches him run off.

  Eileen leans against the building, supporting herself against Brandon.

  “Is Ty always this accommodating?” she asks, barely lifting her chin to look at him.

  “Oh, yeah. Ty’s a good guy. You and him together?”

  “Are you wondering if I’m sleeping with him? No.” She feels like laughing, but her upper body is sore and every time she speaks it hurts. “We’re not together.”

  “I think he cares about you. I haven’t seen him like this. He doesn’t normally help out this much unless you’re his best friend.”

  Ty pulls up in his Toyota FJ and jumps out, rushing over to help her into the passenger seat.

  Ty picks her up and places her on the seat.

  “Thanks,” he tells Brandon, as if she’s Ty’s responsibility.

  She rests her head back, feeling numb from all that is going on as they head out of the parking lot and drive to the closest clinic.

  “Thanks for this,” Eileen mutters. “For taking me.”

  He has both hands on the steering wheel, his hat worn backwards and wisps of hair curling out at the sides. “No problem,” he says with a quick glance and then his eyes are back on the road.

  They drive in silence most of the way. Eileen is too sore to talk, and she tries to close her eyes, feeling the pulsation of her head.

  Ty pulls up to the clinic, parks, and hops out. “I’ll go put your name down,” he says and shuts his door.

  All Eileen can think about is she needs to get better. She needs to get back out there before the media gets a hold of the story and she’s thrown from the team because of all the attention.

  A few minutes later, Ty opens the driver’s-side door and hops in. “It’s an hour wait. Are you going to be okay, or should I drive you to your own doctor?”

  “I’ll be okay. This is probably easier. I don’t want to move.”

  “They said it could be longer, hard to say.”

  “I’m okay,” she whispers. “Tell me, does Thompson push his way around all the time?”

  Ty smoothed the steering wheel with his hand, taking a second to answer. “I’ve never seen him do what he did. But he does have a big attitude.”

  Eileen smirks.

  “What?” he asks playfully, glancing her way.

  “Attitude? All you guys have attitudes.” Eileen tries to look at him, but her neck is tender and she’d much rather look straight ahead at all the traffic going by than feel more discomfort. “It’s not a bad thing . . .” she says, thinking that sometimes she also has an attitude. “Depends how you use it.... Thompson doesn’t like me. He’s trying to get rid of me.”

  “He’s bitter.” Ty shrugs his right shoulder. “He’s not all that bright either.”

  They enter the clinic building very slowly; Ty helps her to the counter, where she gives them her personal information. The medical office assistant talks to Eileen but keeps eyeing Ty, knowing he looks familiar but not quite able to place him. She saw the same look from the waiter at the restaurant.

  “Have a seat,” she tells them and they wander over to a corner of the room, where they won’t be exposed.

  “How are you feeling?” Ty whispers. “Better? Worse?”

  “The same,” she answers. Not long after, Eileen hears her name called.

  Ty jumps up to help her.

  The woman leads the way to a room, shuts the door behind her, and says, staring at Ty’s cut and then at Eileen’s hunch, “So were you two in a fight?”

  “We were playing hockey and I fell into the boards,” Ty says, relaxed, as he helps Eileen stand against the examining bed. “Do you want to sit?”

  She lets out a sharp no.

  “Dangerous sport.” The nurse shakes her head as though disappointed. “That’s why I don’t let my son play. Scary what can happen.”

  “Same with skateboarding, or any sport,” Ty says. “It’s one of those things.”

  She writes something down on the board and says, “Dr. Martin will be with you in a few minutes.”

  The door shuts behind her and Ty asks Eileen if she’s okay. He suddenly places his hands around her waist, lifting her off the ground and toward the examining bed. “I’ll help you up.”

  “What are you doing?” she asks as though aggravated, but she’s shocked that he feels the need to help her all the time. “I can do it.” She softens her voice, not wanting to sound ungrateful. She lets him hold her. Her eyes find his and instantly her throat is dry. She is brought back to the kiss they shared outside the restaurant. Her heart is beating wildly again. Why does he make her body react?

  “Are you kidding? It will take you ten minutes if I let you,” he says.

  “Very funny,” she says, placing an arm around his neck. Her insides go to mush as she realizes holding on to him comforts her. Ty leans closer, and their noses touch. She freezes, seeing his lips part to hers as he lifts her onto the table. It would be so easy to move an inch closer and taste his kiss again.

  The door opens. Ty flinches, plunking her down on the table. He stands beside her, watching a bearded man wearing a buttoned-up shirt and a stethoscope around his neck come in and close the door behind him. “How are you two today?” the doctor asks. Then something hits him and he stops, looks at Ty. “Wait a minute! Are you Ty Caldwell?” He flips through his information sheet.

  Ty nods his head and the doctor extends his hand.

  “Good to meet you. I’m Dr. Martin.”

  “Good to meet you, too,” Ty says politely.

  “Looks like you need a Band-Aid for that cut.” Dr. Martin digs in a cupboard and grabs a Band-Aid. “What happened?” he asks as he tends to Ty’s face, first cleaning it with a tissue and applying ointment, then placing the bandage.

  “We were at practice and one of my teammates accidentally fell into Eileen and she went into the boards, hard.”

  Eileen scowls.

  The doctor puts his hand on Eileen’s leg. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Everywhere,” she says. “Mostly my hand.”

  “Can you open your fingers?”

  Slowly, she extends her hand.

  “Yeah, it’s swollen and looks bruised. Okay. We’ll need to do an X-ray to be certain nothing’s broken. What else hurts?”

  Eileen feels as if she’s at the deli counter, telling the clerk what else she needs to make a hoagie. Can’t he tell she is hurting? Shouldn’t he prescribe medicine, T3s? Something to take away the throbbing.

  “My right side and thigh.”

  “I’ll take a look,” the doctor says, pulling her shirt up halfway. Eileen looks at Ty and he slowly turns away. “There is some bruising. What kind of pain is in your leg?”

  “I can barely walk on it.”

  “My guess is you pulled a muscle. It will be swollen for a few days and you will see some deep bruising in the next day. Depending how bad the strain is, it could be two weeks before it heals. Take Advil, ice your leg and elevate it. Keep off your feet for a day
or two to help with the swelling. In the meantime, you’ll need an X-ray on your wrist.” He hands her a referral.

  “Thanks,” Eileen says as Ty helps her off the table.

  “Good luck this season,” the doctor says. “I’ll be rooting for you.”

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  They walk out of the clinic. “I’ll drive you to get X-rays,” Ty says. “It’s not far from here.”

  “Thanks, but I can go myself. You’ve done enough for me.”

  “Might as well get looked after now. The quicker we tend to you, the sooner you’ll be back on your feet.”

  “Why did you lie to the doctor?” Eileen asks, miffed about this being an accident.

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “Yeah, you did. You said Thompson accidentally pushed me into the boards. It wasn’t an accident.”

  “I know that. What does it matter what the doctor knows? I didn’t lie about how you got hurt.”

  “You’re protecting him.” Is this what the team does? Even if someone is in the wrong they cover for each other?

  “No, I’m not. I just think it’s in the best interest of the team if I kept it innocent. Can you imagine if that got out? Jeez, what would Braxton say if he heard? Gotta keep the team positive. We’re heading into a new season—we don’t want that on our backs.”

  “You mean the truth?”

  “Yeah. You’d be gone because the last thing they want is conflict on the team.”

  “So you were protecting me?” she says with humor.

  “I was,” Ty says firmly. Not what Eileen was expecting to hear.

  His answer keeps her quiet until they walk into the X-ray clinic. They’re expecting to wait a long time, but it’s only a few minutes before the technician calls her over. Ty waits for her, and when she is finished, he again helps her to his truck.

  “Well, this sucks,” she says. “What can I do with a sprained wrist?”

  “You’re lucky nothing’s broken and lucky it’s Friday so you can rest until Monday.”

  “I don’t feel lucky. I’m supposed to teach a class tomorrow morning.”

  Ty hops into the driver seat and starts his truck up. “Not tomorrow. You’ll have to call in a backup.”

  “I don’t have a backup,” she says with worry. “It’s my class! I don’t have a replacement.”

  “You should.”

  “This doesn’t happen. It wasn’t supposed to happen,” she complains.

  “It happened and now you need to call whoever you call and tell them you can’t teach tomorrow.”

  “I can’t do that.” She bites her lower lip thinking of her options.

  He drives out of the parking lot.

  “You can’t teach. You heard the doctor. He said you need to rest.”

  She pouts for a moment. “Can you teach my class?” she asks in a small voice.

  He laughs out loud as though she told the most hilarious joke.

  “I guess that’s a no,” she says crossly, staring ahead.

  “You’re not serious.”

  She knew his answer before she asked, but she hoped he’d consider it.

  “They’re just six- and seven-year-olds. They probably won’t even know who you are,” she lies. “It’s an hour class. I’m sure you can spare an hour out of your busy day, can’t you?”

  “Elle, it’s not that I don’t want to. Wouldn’t it be weird? I mean, you’re the one who doesn’t want to go on a date with me, afraid of what people will say, and you’re suggesting that I teach one of your skating classes? What happens if the media finds out? You know they will. Word will get around pretty quickly.”

  “You’re right.” She sighs with disappointment. “I shouldn’t have asked. I wasn’t thinking. I just thought it wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Under different circumstances, I would . . .”

  “It’s okay, really.” She tries looking his way. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “All right, then. I’ll take you home.”

  “What about my car?”

  “You can’t drive,” he says, looking at her hand and then at her. “You have a severely pulled muscle and a sprained wrist. We’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

  “It won’t be safe there overnight.”

  “We can get someone else to drive it,” he suggests.

  “Like who?”

  “Keller. I’ll give him a quick call.”

  “We can’t ask him to do that. I barely know him! Why would he do me a favor?”

  “I didn’t ask you to make out with him. I’m asking him to drive your car home.”

  “I’ll call Brooke.” Eileen unzips her purse with her left hand and grabs her cell phone.

  “Who’s Brooke?”

  “My friend.” Eileen dials her number. After a quick chat, Brooke agrees to come and pick up the car. Eileen throws her cell back into her purse.

  “Is your friend going to meet us?”

  Eileen nods her head slightly, feeling the tightness and a strain below her ear. “She’s on her way. She’ll drive my car home.”

  Ty pulls in front of the arena and shuts off the engine. “We’ll wait for her here. You’ll be able to see her when she pulls in.”

  “She’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  Ty turns to look at her, his right hand holding on to the steering wheel. “How do you feel?”

  “Okay. Still pretty sore. I’ll heal. I seem to be a fast healer,” she tells him. “It’s not the first time I’ve pulled a muscle.”

  “Good. You can get back on the ice and show Thompson that you’re made of steel.”

  She smirks. “Yeah, right.” Eileen makes eye contact with Ty. “I hope he doesn’t come to any more practices.”

  “He will, so just ignore him.”

  “Kinda hard to when he doesn’t have a problem physically removing me. I can’t say anything to the coaching staff. They warned me about some players.”

  “Like who?”

  “They told me that not all the guys will feel equally privileged to have me on the team. So this was like a test, I guess.”

  “I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

  “I hope not. I don’t understand why the guys make such a big deal that a woman is sharing the ice with you. Why is that?”

  “You want me to answer that?” Ty says, resting his head back staring out the windshield.

  “Amuse me.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I say. You’ll find a way to argue it.”

  “No, I won’t!” Eileen says, offended.

  “See? There you go, disagreeing with me—again!”

  “It’s easy to.” There’s a moment of silence. “So you’re not going to explain?”

  “Nah, you know the answer,” Ty says, his eyes find hers.

  She studies him for a second, realizing that he’s serious. It doesn’t matter what is said in the locker room, and who’s on her side; it doesn’t change the fact that men have egos and having a woman instruct them only adds salt to the wound.

  “Okay,” she says, giving in.

  Brooke pulls in. “That’s her, over there,” Eileen says, pointing, and she very carefully slides out of the truck, feeling the tender muscles spasm with every movement.

  Her friend jumps out of her car. “You look like you’re in pain.”

  “I am. I’m sore all over.”

  “I’m sure Ty can help you out in that department.” She snickers.

  Ignoring her friend’s comment, she pulls her keys out of her bag and takes her car key off her ring. “Here,” she tells Brooke, who is busy looking over her shoulder trying to spot the hockey player. “I’ll keep the set so I can get into my apartment.”

  “He is really cute.” Her eyes widen as she studies his looks.

  “I’ll meet you back at my place,” Eileen says, ignoring her friend’s comment.

  “I don’t see why you don’t date him. He’s really into you. What guy does this for a woman he knows he isn’t going to get far with?” she w
hispers. “He wants you!”

  Eileen tilts her head to the side. “It’s not what it looks like.”

  Ty gets out of the truck.

  “Sure, Elle. You’re just blind.” Brooke gets into Eileen’s car while Ty helps Eileen back in the truck.

  “I shouldn’t have gotten out,” she says.

  “You’ll rest when you get home.”

  When they arrive, they park next to Brooke in the underground parking garage, and Ty walks over to help Eileen out of the passenger seat.

  “I can do this,” Eileen says, frustrated that she needs his help and mad that she’s in pain.

  “I know. I’m helping,” Ty says.

  “Ty? This is my friend Brooke. Brooke, Ty.”

  They both exchange a “Nice to meet you.”

  “Did you always have key marks?” he asks, looking at her car.

  “No, that happened at the rink,” she tells him.

  “Really? When?” he asks.

  “Last week.”

  “After practice? Did you report it?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? You should!” he says, examining the paint and running his hand along the marks. “They did a good job.”

  “That’s what insurance is for,” she says. “Look, you don’t have to help me. I can do this.”

  Ty lets her lean on him walking inside to the elevator. “I can carry you. Here,” he says, bending down and picking her up.

  “What are you doing?” she demands, embarrassed.

  “This is easier than watching you in pain with every step,” Ty says.

  She shrieks, and when he doesn’t let her down, she surrenders to his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder until they’re inside the elevator. He smells like spring air, not what she expected him to smell like after the confrontation with Thompson and carrying her from the truck.

  “You can put me down,” she tells him. When he doesn’t answer, she encourages him. “I’m okay, really. I can stand.”

  “Don’t argue with him,” Brooke says.

  “I’m not, but I can hold myself up.”

  For a moment, she thinks he’s going to lock his lips on hers. He is close enough for her to smell his minty mouth. Her hand is resting on his broad shoulder. She wants so badly to touch the strands of hair that are coming out of his hat and covering his neck.