“But what if...”
“Yes.”
He sighs dramatically with a wry smile. “Worth a shot.”
“The lead researcher is Dr. Ivy Chandler.” Coach checks the notes on his phone. “She comes highly recommended by Dr. Maya O’Connell at the Metropolitan University. O’Connell says she has expertise in traumatic brain injury and cognitive assessment. She'll start conducting baseline testing on you next week.”
My heart kicks into overdrive.
Ivy.
Dr. Ivy Chandler.
She’s the researcher that will be working with the team. With me. Better still, she’ll be here almost every day for months.
“So, treat her with respect and keep it professional,” Coach continues. “You won’t give me headaches. Understood?”
“Define professional,” Misha, the goalie, says.
“Is she hot?” Connor asks.
“Not you too, Connor,” Marcus says. He's been standing beside me all through the announcement with a scowl on his face.
“I haven't even done anything yet!” Connor protests.
“Preemptive strike,” Marcus mutters.
Coach fixes Connor with a glare. He doesn’t blink until the rookie shifts nervously and glances away.
“Is asking if she’s hot relevant, Hayes?”
“I mean… not technically, but…”
“Professional means no hitting on the doctor. Clear?”
“Crystal, Coach.” Connor replies in a low tone, but he’s got that hopeful look in his eyes. The kid falls in love approximately four times a week.
Marcus keeps glaring at him.
“What's up, dude?” I ask Marcus.
“Nothing.” His expression becomes carefully neutral.
Coach dismisses us, and I head toward the locker room. My towel snaps against my legs as I peel off my jersey. Sweat stingsthe cut on my forearm from last night’s scrimmage. I shower and am toweling off when my phone buzzes in the locker.
It’s another text from her.
Ivy:
Just finished setting up my office at the facility. It’s smaller than a broom closet. But it has a window. So, I’m calling it a win.
My mouth curves into a smile. I type back quickly.
King:
At least, it has a window. What’s the view?
Ivy:
