His eyelids lifted halfway.Whatever he read in my face cracked something; his shoulders slumped.“I’m screwing everything up.”
“Which part?Hockey, school, or human interaction?”
“All of it.”He tried a sigh; it got stuck halfway, became a wince.“I thought if I pulled back, I could think straight.Instead, I can’t think at all.”
“And you tanked your shoulder.”
“Bonus miscalculation.”A faint attempt at humor, gone as quickly as it came.
I reached for the fresh pea bag, swapped it onto the bruise, rotated the melty one onto the towel.“Dalton should look at this again.”
“Tomorrow.”His voice frayed.“I need tonight to not be a disaster.”
“Define disaster.”
“Losing the crease.Losing…” He cut himself off, teeth caught his lower lip as his eyes looked up and caught mine.
Me, I almost filled in.The word landed between us, anyway.
I focused on practicalities.“Rule change.No work tonight.Quiet hours start now; you need sleep.”
“I have film to review.”
“Film will exist tomorrow.”I stood.“But, we need to get you showered first; blood flow helps muscles.Can you manage?”
He shot me a look—seriously?—but the effect was ruined by the way he cradled his arm.“May take a bit.”
“What do you need, Luke?”
Red crept up his neck.“Assist, please.”
I pretended not to notice embarrassment.
“You smell like a locker room,” I noted.“And you have an abrasion on your elbow that needs disinfectant.”
Luke looked down at his boxers, then at his useless left arm.“I can’t lift it past my hip, Austen.I can’t wash my hair.”
“Understood.”I stood up, rolling up the sleeves of my button-down.“Let’s do this.Grab your caddy.We’re going down the hall.”
He hesitated, red creeping up his neck.“You’re going to…?”
“I am going to facilitate the process.Unless you want to ask Ryan?”
“God, no.”
“Then move.”
I checked the hallway—clear—and ushered him toward the communal bathroom at the end of the wing.It was empty, thankfully.The fluorescent lights hummed over the damp tile.I locked the main door.
“Stall three,” I commanded.“It has a handheld nozzle.”
Luke shuffled into the stall.He looked small in the tiled space, shivering slightly despite the heat of the room.I reached in and turned the water on, testing the temperature with my wrist until it was hot enough to soothe the muscle but not scald.
“Boxers,” I said.
He hooked his thumb into the waistband and shimmied them down with one hand, kicking them into the corner.He turned away from me instantly, facing the tile wall.
“I’ve seen it all before.Step in.”
