Chapter One
Prologue - 10 years ago
Bianca
I satin the stands pretending to do my calculus homework while my father ran the team through conditioning drills. I kept my eyes low enough that my father would think I was concentrating on the page, but I was watching the new rookie, Marcus Grant, instead. We’d been sneaking around together since he came to the team at the beginning of the season. At twenty-three, he showed great promise to become an amazing defensive player, and as long as my father didn’t find out about us, he’d be able to stay here.
I dropped my eyes back to my textbook as my father turned around, yelling at someone behind me, and that was when I heard it. Not the pop, but the screams coming from a player out on the ice. I tore my eyes from my textbook and sat there in horror. Marcus lay on the ice, screaming in pain as I watched the team’s athletic trainer take his time jogging across the ice to him.
I sat there with my heart in my throat as I watched the trainer say something to one member of the medical team. Icould tell from his calm demeanor he’d seen an injury like this before. He examined the leg, waved for a stretcher, and then sent poor Marcus to the hospital with nothing more than a pat on the shoulder. My father went back to running the team’s conditioning skills immediately after the ice cleared, acting as if nothing had occurred.
As days passed, I couldn’t get Marcus out of my mind. I’d asked my father twice if he’d heard anything, but he said nothing. One afternoon, I skipped my classes and went to the hospital, but Marcus refused to see me. He also refused to answer my texts, and my father was as tight-lipped as ever.
I finally heard about his injury from one of the other players one night during practice, and that night I became consumed with knowing more. The next few weeks, I spent my time researching and reading medical journals I found online and in the library. I’d even snuck into the athletic trainer’s office at the Lair and took one of his books.
I learned everything I could about his injury, then about load management and recovery, and about the difference between being ready to play and being healthy enough to survive playing after a severe injury. I did all of this with the hope I’d be able to help him with his recovery when he was ready to see me. His surgery seemed to take forever, and once that was finished and he’d started rehabilitation, there were so many critical windows missed it would only take longer to get him back out on the ice.
A few weeks later, I was in the arena, once again pretending to do my homework, when one of the other players passed me a note from Marcus. He wanted to see me and asked that I come by later that night. After my father was in bed, I quietly snuck out of the house and went to see him. We spent the night together, first talking about his rehabilitation plan, and then he took my virginity.
The next morning, he devastated me when he told me he no longer wanted to see me. I stood there in tears as he told me to find someone else, someone who had a promising career ahead of them. Hurt filled me, followed by anger, and as I left his place that morning, I was determined to help him.
Only now, he avoided me at all costs, changing his rehabilitation times to when I was in school and not answering his phone. It took months before he returned to the ice. One look at him told me he wasn’t really ready to come back, but he pushed forward.
During his first game after his injury I watched in horror as he re-ruptured his Achilles. The sound he made during that game, I don’t think I will ever forget. Something happened to me after seeing that happen, witnessing a promising player have his career die because someone had checked a bunch of boxes to rush him back, instead of seeing the person who hadn’t been ready to return.
Later that summer, I enrolled in university, and that fall I added kinesiology to my application. I already knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to be the Colorado Dragons athletic trainer. My father assumed it was so I could stay close to him and to hockey, but I never really told him the true reasoning behind my choice. I was determined to change things in this industry because I’d learned that sometimes the greatest harm came from the people who were supposed to protect you, and I wanted to change that.
Chapter Two
Bianca – Present Day
The baggage claimin the Colorado airport smelled like burned coffee and sweat. It hadn’t changed in all the time I’d been away. I stood by the carousel with my weight evenly distributed and my shoulders back as other passengers from my flight lined up. The moment the carousel finally groaned to life, people surged forward, pushing and shoving. It was like they believed that being closer to the carousel might somehow speed up the process and that their bags would magically appear first.
My phone buzzed against my hip.
DAD: Sending a car, should be outside in fifteen.
I swore my father still thought I was seventeen. I rolled my eyes and typed back quickly.
BIANCA: Already have my rental. I will see you at the Lair at two.
Almost immediately those little dots bounced.
DAD: I was sending a car because I thought it would be nice if we grabbed lunch first. Thought we could get caught up, talk like we used to. It’s been a while.
I let out a sigh. Nothing had been the same between us after I’d ended things with Tyler five years ago. Dad had had it in his mind that I was going to marry him, and I’d probably thought the same until he betrayed me and my trust. I typed back.
BIANCA: This is a professional employment-related meeting at your office. I will see you at two as planned.
I silenced my phone before he could respond and shoved it back into the pocket of my tailored black dress pants. The ones I’d chosen specifically for today because they screamed sports medicine professional without whispering coach’s daughter.
I watched the carousel, finally spotting my sensible black hardshell suitcase with the pink ribbon come down the chute. It was large enough to contain three weeks’ worth of clothing but still small enough for me to manage on my own. Last month I’d agonized over what I would move back home with me, and while I’d fit all my clothing into this suitcase, I’d packed the rest of my life into seven boxes and shipped it to my father’s house ahead of time. The rest of my things I’d sold or donated.
The drive from the airport to the Lair took me exactly forty-three minutes. I’d made this drive more times in my life than Icared to count, plus I’d spent the last two weeks calculating the commute times and traffic patterns with the same attention I’d applied to my rehabilitation protocols. If anything, I paid great attention to detail, and I didn’t want to be late.
I’d lived almost my entire life here in Colorado, and it amazed me how different it looked now. Maybe it was because I was looking at it through adult eyes instead of teenager eyes, but the city looked exactly as I remembered, except for a few new buildings that had popped up.
The moment I made the last bend, the Lair appeared. It seemed to rise against the overcast sky. The building was impressive, with its black steel panels that overlapped one another like scales. I remembered when the team had moved into the Lair and how it had been the talk of the area. I could also still see my father’s face and how proud he was to be the head coach for a team closer to home.
