“Yeah well,” I replied, clearing my throat as some lingering fear remained. “Luckily, I’m okay.”
“Yeah. I’m glad.” He tapped his knuckles on the table and nodded. “See you later, Doc.”
He called me Doc. That was a first.
I exhaled, my hands trembling from the adrenaline and extreme emotions I’d experienced the last twelve hours.
The air in the facility buzzed with quiet tension. Saturday mornings before home games were always a blur of final walk-throughs, player treatments, and silent mental prep. I walked the halls with my tablet in hand, checking off appointments and player notes while actively avoiding the training room. Or more specifically, the man likely in it.
I hadn’t seen Oliver since I left him in my apartment, yet he’d been on my mind the entire time. I needed to talk to him, to try to explain why I had to stop this between us… the pain in his voice and on his face gutted me. He was the last person I ever wanted to hurt, but damn, this job…
I was twenty feet from the conference suite when I heard his voice.
“Sloane.”
I turned before I could stop myself.
He stood in the hallway past the rehab room, sweat-darkened shirt clinging to his chest, his face tight with exhaustion and something sharper. His jaw twitched. His mouth opened, then closed. “Are you okay?” he asked, the deep timbre so familiar to me now.
I nodded, hating once again he was checking on me. “Yeah, think so. Are… you?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, his jaw flexing as he held my gaze. A million emotions crossed his face, anger being one of them. My chest ached to erase that twisted expression, knowing I caused it, but I couldn’t do that here. “Oliver,” I pleaded, stepping closer to him.
It was only us in the hallway. No footsteps or cleared throats or hums near us, yet I put up a hand, almost for myself instead of him. “We shouldn’t talk here.”
“Oh? We shouldn’t talk at the stadium, where we both work? That’s the move now?” He ran his tongue over his teeth, his gaze sharpening. “Got it, Doc.”
“Oliver, no, I meant?—”
“Well aware of what you meant. Message received. How about you let me know when I’m allowed to matter again? Send me a calendar invite.”
His words hit like a punch, and I sucked in a breath. This wasn’t the kind, easy-going, charming man I knew. This version was upset and pissed off. “That’s not fair.”
“Oh, wanna talk about what’s fair and not fair?” His brows arched, his voice louder than I’d ever heard. His pulse raced at the base of his neck, and worry gripped my lungs.
He needed to be calm today, not worked up.
Without overthinking, I grabbed his wrist and dragged him into a conference room off to the side.
“What are you doing?” he barked out.
I shut the door, leaned against it, and pointed to a chair. “Sit your ass down.”
“Is this some kinky foreplay?” He grinned, but his smile wasn’t joyful or kind. It was feral. “By all means, strip for me, Sloane.”
“Would you stop it?” I hissed, grinding my teeth together. “Your pulse is racing, and you have sweat on your forehead. You probably worked out too hard, taking your frustration out from me. I can’t have your heart overworked today.”
“Is that Doctor Mercer speaking, clinically, or Sloane, who gives a shit about me?”
“Both, now shut your mouth, my god.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, wincing at the pain in my forehead. I rubbed that too, but Oliver cussed.
“Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry, Sloane.” The chair creaked up, his presence immediately in front of me. He cupped my face, hislarge hand covering my entire left side. “You’re hurting too. God, I don’t want to be the reason you’re upset, ever.”
I pushed his chest, forcing his hand to drop from me. “I’m fine,” I emphasized the word, both of us knowing it wasn’t true. “But we need to stop this.”
“Stop, what?” This time, his voice was cold, robotic. “Be clear with me, Sloane. Very clear.”
I closed my eyes, prickles of pain sharpening behind them. I hated being weak, and this man somehow got all my vulnerable sides. My lip trembled, but I forced myself to work through being upset, breathe through it. Feelings only lasted ninety seconds unless you fed them energy. “I can’t do this at work with you.”
