At home and away from her all-seeing evil eye, he’d been diligently doing his exercises—he had even ramped them up, despite her warning not to.Didn’t matter, though, because the extra effort wasn’t paying off.Progress was too slow, and he laid that squarely on Angie’s shoulders.He needed different exercises.He needed to start rotations.
Though he had pushed for different routines, more strenuous exercises, she’d given him one of her irritating “not so fast, sport” lectures.But she didn’t know his body like he did.Onlyheknew his limitations, and he had a long way to go before he hit the end of his runway.His body was amachine, and she was underestimating the power of his chassis.She was holding him back.
Well, he was going to do his damnedest to shrink the forecast on being done with this rehab.Four weeks was his goal.In eighteen days, he would be ready to go, and if the team made it past the first round, he’d be back in the lineup and skating with his teammates again—which meant taking over his own rehab.The problem was that he needed the equipment in the PT room.
But he had that hurdle solved, and he was going to put his solution into action that night while the boys played game eighty-one on home ice.
He watched the boys take warm-ups to the cheers of fans.Blaring music from the arena’s sound system thumped in the hall as Sam entered the training room and beelined for one of the less experienced trainers.
“Hey, Marco.I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”
Bright-eyed, Marco smiled.“Sure.”
Sam hauled him off to a quiet corner.“The thing is, I need access to the PT department, and my therapist forgot to give me the combo to get in.”When Marco’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, Sam hurried on with his pitch.“I’m halfway through my PT already.Two weeks down, two to go, and she and I agreed that I could do some of the routines here while the boys are playing.That way I don’t have to half-ass it at home without the right equipment.”
Did he really only have two weeks to go?Sure he did.Mind over matter.
“I didn’t think anyone could help themselves to the PT stuff without a therapist there to supervise.”He glanced down at Sam’s foot.“You’re still in the boot.”
“Not for long, and only when I’m away from home.They just want me to wear it for protection in case someone gets pissed and kicks me.”Sam chuckled.Marco didn’t.
Instead, the trainer frowned.“They don’t even allow trainers in there without the player’s PT.”
“Feel free to check her report.I’m sure she put it in there.That chick doesn’t miss a thing.”A few beads of sweat popped out along Sam’s forehead.He wasn’t used to lying, and he wasn’t very good at it.
Marco didn’t seem to notice, though.“Are you talking about Rossi?”The guy broke out in a goofy grin that Sam recognized.He decided to play to it.
“Yeah, Rossi.The blond hottie.You dig her, huh?”Sam caught Trevor’s head swivel toward them.Something about the guy set off Sam’s spidey-senses and told him Trevor was a tool.He backed up a little more, drawing Marco with him.
“Who wouldn’t?”Marco seemed to remember himself and dropped the grin.
Sam shoved aside the sudden—and weird—spike of green that flared inside him.“Hey, I’ll put in a good word for you, if you like.”Marco stared blankly.“Back to what she wants me to do, though.She couldn’t make it in tonight, so she told me to use the equipment since she taught me everything I need to know about using it.It’s totally cool.In fact, I’m usually on my own during our sessions anyway.She uses that time to write up her reports or work with other patients.I’m good to go.”
Marco’s expressions told Sam he was fluctuating between skepticism and an eagerness to help, so Sam pressed.“If you want, give her a call, although I think she’s volunteering at the animal shelter tonight, so you might not reach her right away.I’m here, and I might as well get started.If youdoget through to her and she tells you it’s a no-go, just come get me and I’ll leave.Don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
Shit.He hoped he wasn’t spewing lies that would get her into trouble.Truth was, Angie followed the rules to the letter, and while she’d annoyed the hell out of him at first, he had gradually come to see that she was trying to do her best by him.She just wasn’t doing enough fast enough.And that was part of her personality.Angie was cautious by nature, and because she was trying to earn a permanent spot in the PT department—she hadn’t volunteered that tidbit, but he’d been smart enough to put two and two together—she wasn’t going to stray outside of the safety zone.She would go by the book all the way, and if Sam didn’t recoup fast enough, Angie could point at her beloved logs and reports and show the powers that be that she had done everything right.The problem was his injury, not her treatment for said injury.He got it.He just didn’t want anything to do with her plodding plan anymore.
Marco seemed to get a bright idea.“Can’t you do what you need to do in the weight room?”
Sam shook his head.“Have you ever been down to the PT department?”
“Can’t say as I have.”
Sam ran through a litany of exercises Angie had told him were best done in PT.Then he listed off the gear he knew the weight room didn’t have, including some pieces of equipment PT didn’t have either.Sounded convincing, though.
Marco finally capitulated, and Sam hobbled away with the combo to the PT department’s front door lock.
Sweet!He refrained from fist pumping until he was in the elevator car and the doors had closed.When they opened onto the underbelly of the arena, he stole down the hallway like a thief.
When he reached PT, he punched in the code, eased the door open, and let himself inside.So much easier now that he didn’t have to squeeze his body and crutches through the opening.A few lights glowed at reception, and the sharp smell of disinfectant assailed his nostrils.Beyond the wall, he noticed a set of overheads that were on.Night-lights?Maybe this was routine.
As he rounded the corner, he wobbled to a stop and braced himself against the wall’s edge to keep from losing his balance.Someone in a dark jacket and backward ball cap was here, hunched over Angie’s desk.
Shit!
That someone whirled and half stood, jarred by the sound of Sam’s palm inadvertently slapping the wall.
Even in the shadows that separated them, Sam recognized the sky blue of Angie’s eyes.“Sam?”she screeched.
