Instead of giving him a sound answer, I roll my eyes. I’m feeling rebellious. Sue me. “I’m only eight years younger than you, old man.”
He doesn’t flinch at the dig. He doesn’t even acknowledge it. Damn him for being the bigger person today.
“Your reaction time is sluggish. Not just today, either.”
“I’ll put in extra practice. Up my nutritional intake.” Denial. Who, me?
Thorn studies me for a moment, and the look isn’t one I’m comfortable with. It’s a look he usually reserves for whoever is about to get sent back to the farm team. Instead, he shakes his head and changes tactics.
“Hannah wants Aubrey to come over for a long-weekend slumber party.”
My head is shaking before he finishes his sentence. As I sit on the bench to unlace my skates, I keep my focus down. Usually, pride goeth before the fall. Well, damn it, today the fall took pride for a ride.
“I don’t need help, Thorn.”
My old teammate and the best coach I’ve ever had squats in front of me until his eyes meet mine. “I’m coming at this from a place of love and a nearly decade-long friendship. You need sleep, Silas. You’re exhausted.”
“I have a resp—”
He rests a hand on my shoulder. “You’re exhausted, and we’re here to help. Aubrey will come over and have a girls’ weekend. Hannah will take care of everything, including providing you with proof of life. But you need the weekend off to recuperate.”
“No.” The word is out of my mouth before I can even process that I’ve said it. My gut clenches at how it sounds, and before I can explain, Thorn’s expression hardens.
Coach Cason has replaced Friend Thorn.
“Wanna try that again, bud?” He holds my stare, those ice-blue eyes boring through my defenses. He was my mentor and friend long before he became my coach, and he’s always had this uncanny ability to see past the bullshit. He’ll let you pretend you have it all together, but somehow, the bastard always knows.
“I don’t want time off. Or away from my little sister. She’s still fragile.” Hell, we both are. It’s only been six months since our lives did a back dive and landed with a resounding belly buster.
“The ankle is your reason,” he says, his eyes daring me to argue. “You don’t want to make it about your home-life situation with the fresh meat, you make it about the ankle. Liam isn’t going to clear you, anyway. Use it to your advantage. Don’t let me find you in the weight room or on the ice until Monday.” He stands at his full height. In sneakers, he’s almost as tall as me on skates. The dude’s a beast at six-foot-five. Skill isn’t the only reason he was a phenomenal player.
“Thorn.”
“Silas.” He clasps me on the shoulder one more time. “If you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be able to take care of her. I’ll let Aubrey know to get her things together. Hannah will be here soon.”
I can’t tell if the weight on my chest lessens or presses harder as Thorn slips out of the locker room, thankfully pretending not to notice the moisture gathering in my lashes.
I can’t say the same for Rooker, who’s standing inside the far entrance to the room. “Eavesdrop much?”
Rooks just shrugs his wide shoulders, seemingly even more massive with his pads still on. “You’re in the locker room before practice officially ends. As soon as the babies finish cleaning upour gear, they’ll be headed in here as well. What’d you expect?” he asks as I continue stripping to my base layers while babying the hell out of my ankle.
Because, damn it, Liam was right. I can already feel it pulsing without the support of my skate. Twenty-year-old me would be ashamed of the joints on thirty-four-year-old me.
Luckily, I get my gear off and packed away as everyone else slips into the room. I’m thankful I wore my slides this morning. No way am I fitting this foot into a sneaker.
Gingerly, I make my way to the trainer’s office. Liam doesn’t even glance up from his paperwork. He just points toward his exam table on the far side of the room. He already has a roll of tape waiting. “Pop a squat. I’ll be over in just a minute.”
As I sit and lift my leg, the muscles in my hams tighten, and I curse.
Between embarrassing myself on the ice and Thorn’s distraction, I never made it to my usual cooldowns, and at this age, my body doesn’t recover like it used to.
Liam rolls his stool across the room to me, still not saying a word as he gingerly prods at my ankle then expertly wraps it.
“Thanks, man,” I say as I shift to my feet. The tape job is secure enough that I don’t feel like my ankle will collapse, but it’s still uncomfortable.
“It’s my job,” he says as he stores the supplies.
“You didn’t deserve the snark, especially from a veteran player.” Normally, I don’t care if I offend someone, but this time I was wrong.
