Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“Anything bothering you today?” she asks, pen poised like she’s ready to make a huge list.
“My shoulder.” I roll it to illustrate, wincing a little. “It’s stiff on this side.”
Lindsay nods, making a note. “All right. Lay down, and we’ll work on loosening it up.”
I rest face down on the massage table as she smooths her hands over my tight muscles, searching for the tension and knots, assessing the sore spots before using pressure to ease the pain. Her hands are stronger than they should be for such a small woman, and it hurts, but in a good way, as if my body senses that this is what it needs to recover fully and get back to peak play.
With her hands on me and my endorphins flying, the nagging thud in my head lessons a little, especially when her fingers kneed the corded muscles in my neck.
“You’re really tight here. You stressed out?”
All the fucking time.
“Not really. Except when Coach is railing me.”
“He has a special way with words.”
We both laugh lightly, and she taps my shoulder. “Turn over.”
I follow her instructions, fixing my gaze on the ceiling while her hands work into the tight muscles around my jaw and across the front of my shoulders. Her fingers press and knead, their rhythm grounding me, and for a little while, the buzzing of the air conditioning becomes my only focus. The headache fades into the background, along with the thoughts of Hayes, the looming game, and the pressure to both shine and let Skarsgard succeed for the sake of the team.
When her warm palms leave my skin, the cool air brushes against me, snapping me out of the haze. “All done.” She pats my shoulder. “Try to relax more. Let go of some of that stress. Your shoulders shouldn’t live up by your ears.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, sitting up and leaning forward to test how much relief her work has given me. My shoulders are loose, but the dull ache in my head stirs again, creeping back like a shadow I can’t escape. I brace myself for the coming pain, plastering on a smile that’s more practiced than real.
“Thanks,” I tell her, my voice steady even as my head pounds with renewed insistence. I act like everything’s fine because that’s what I do—it’s what I’ve always done.
But my mind’s already spinning again, about Hayes and the game tonight. The voice in my head that undermines everything I’m trying to achieve, and the damn headache I can’t shake, are a heap of bullshit crowding me from every corner.
I step out of the physio room, rolling my shoulders. The fluorescent hallway lights seem brighter than usual, forcing me to squint, worsening the thump, thump, thump in my skull as I head back to the locker room. Most of the guys are long gone, their banter and laughter replaced by the echo of my footsteps. The empty space is heavier somehow, pressing in on me.
I grab my bag and sit on the bench, running my hands over my face. I know I should say something about my head—maybe to Lindsay, maybe to Coach—but the thought of being pulled from the lineup is worse than the pain. And it’s been like this for months. How would I explain keeping it from them for so long? We’ve got a big week ahead, and I can’t afford to be sidelined. Not now. Not when the real risk is being told I can never play again.
The sound of the door creaking open pulls me from my thoughts. Hayes strides back in, his face still set in a hard, unreadable way that’s so unlike him. For a second, I think he’s going to ignore me, but he stops a few feet away, crossing his arms.
“You’re still here?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I mutter, standing up and unzipping my bag. “Physio. Had some knots to work out.”
Hayes shifts his weight, glancing at the floor like he’s deciding whether to say something. Finally, he exhales sharply and looks back at me.
“Look,” he says, his tone softer than before. “About earlier... I didn’t mean to blow you off. I just—” He breaks off, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated, all right?”
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, sure.”
His eyes lock on mine. “It’s... personal.”
For a moment, I don’t know what to say. I want to push him, to demand more, but his firm tone makes me pause.
“All right,” I say finally, my voice quiet. I want to unleash my disappointment, but I don’t have the strength to warn Hayes that this is just the start. If he lets a woman come between us, there’ll be nothing left. Hasn’t he learned anything from our mother? I want to remind him I’ve got his back. I love him and will always put him first, but his eyes are shuttered, and the lines around his mouth tense.