“That bad?” I asked, the worry gnawing at me now relentless.
“It’s been bad for a while,” he replied, voice rough. “Doc and I made a deal. She’d clear me to play as long as I came to her when it got worse. There’s a surgery. Long recovery, but it’s a recovery. I could finally walk without pain again.”
The way he said it, so defeated, it gutted me. “When was the last time that happened?”
“Years, Frank. It’s been years.”
Hockey had a way of destroying the body, turning it into a broken collection of bruises, torn ligaments, and lingering pains that never truly went away. The kind of pain you couldn’t escape, no matter how much rest or treatment you got. To make it this far, you had to truly love it—love it more than the pain, more than the sacrifice. Ice baths, heating pads, endless physical therapy…. but it was never enough to numb the ache.
Doctor Pravesh pulled her phone out of her pocket, her movements sharp, professional. “Griff wants to see me. You’re free to go, Teddy.”
She paused in the doorway, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary. “We’re going to miss you around here.” Then, she was gone, and before I could even process it, Teddy’s hands were on me, pulling me into the space between his legs.
His fingers dug into my hips, a touch that sent a jolt of heat through me. I let my hands rest on his thighs.
“You and her…” I started, though the words felt foreign, like something I shouldn’t be asking.
He leaned in, his breath warm on my face. “Jealous, Coach?” His lips brushed against mine, barely a touch, just enough to send a thrill through me.
“Are you hoping I am?”
“A little.” He smirked, his lips grazing mine again, lingering just a breath longer. “Are you my reward?”
“Reward?” I pulled back slightly, my eyebrow quirked in disbelief.
“For realizing it was time. I just gave up hockey. For?—”
“If you say it was for me, I swear I’ll walk right out of here and tell the media you have herpes.”
“You wouldn’t,” he said, his eyes dancing with mischief, and then he laughed. “Fuck, you’re vicious. And I love it.”
“Do you know what else I am?”
His lips grazed my cheek. “Tell me.”
“Not your coach.”
He groaned, dramatically collapsing back against the table. “Well, there goes all the boners. I only wanted you because you were off-limits.”
“Asshole,” I muttered, pinching his nipple playfully.
“Honey, I’d want you no matter what we were to each other,” he said with a grin that was half-teasing, half-sincere. “But don’t think I’m ever going to stop calling you Coach.”
“Except in the bedroom,” I shot back, and the laugh that followed was pure, unrestrained.
“No, that’s where I’m in charge.”
“My eyes are bleeding,” came a voice from the doorway. “Make it stop.”
I jumped back as though we’d been caught doing something wrong, my heart racing. Teddy shot a glare over my shoulder at Rowan, who was standing in the doorway with that trademark smirk on his face.
“Fuck off, Gonzo,” Teddy muttered, a mix of annoyance and amusement in his tone.
Rowan laughed, completely unbothered. He was young, hungry, still clinging to the dream of an NHL career, but evenhe looked up to Teddy as if the man could do no wrong. I wasn’t sure Teddy even saw it—the way his friends idolized him.
“Just dropping by to let you know some reporters are asking for you,” Rowan said, stepping farther into the room.
Teddy buried his face in my neck with a groan. “Tell them I died.”
