Did Jude Donnelly just come to my rescue?
Gianniharrumphs, but Jude’s explanation seems to satisfy him. “If you’ll come with me, Mr. Donnelly, we’ll get started. By the way, I hear the Blaze has a game coming up in Seattle. Are you planning on attending? If you need anyone to accompany you, you know, to help with travel and stuff, I’m available.”
My jaw falls open. I cannot believe he seriously just propositioned Jude for tickets within thirty seconds of meeting him. Judging from the weary expression on Jude’s face, this isn’t the first time someone has tried it.
“I’m not going.”
Gianni’s mouth flaps open and shut like a fish, as if he can’t believe Jude shot him down like that.
“Can we get started?” Jude starts to crutch past, but he pauses when he’s next to me. “Good to see you, Lily.”
“Y-you, too,” I stutter out, turning to watch him head into the back gym area. My eyes naturally fall to his butt. It should be illegal, the way he fills out those sweatpants.
What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on a body like his.
For therapy, of course… Oh, who am I kidding? I’d like my hands on him for other reasons, too.
Jude’s at the clinic for just over an hour, working with Gianni. It’s kind of embarrassing watching him fawn all over Jude and watching our receptionist try her hardest to flirt with him. Sukhi goes so far as to walk into the gym area no less than three times to offer Jude water. He turns her down each time and seems to ignore Gianni’s ridiculous attempts at ingratiating himself.
There’s something different about this man from the one I knew when we were younger — or even from the last time I saw him. He’s always been a quiet guy, but the permanent frown is new. There’s a cloud around him, a dark one. I guess it makes sense; his injury was pretty serious and probably career ending.
Not that I’ve googled him at length or anything...
It’s hard to focus on my own work while Jude is around. As if something in me is magnetized to him, and all my senses are in tune with him. My eyes keep being drawn in his direction, and his deep grumble of a voice hits my ears constantly. Thank goodness I don’t have a patient right now.
As he’s leaving, Jude brushes off Sukhi’s attempts to draw him into conversation, instead crutching over to me. “I’ll see you around?”
My head lifts at his question. “Hmm? Oh. Yes, I’m here Tuesday through Saturday, normally.” I give him a smile that hopefully hides the fact that I’ve been watching him out of the corner of my eye the entire time he’s been here.
“Okay.”
The door to the clinic opens just then, and Sawyer walks in. “Hey, Lil! Don’t tell me you’re stuck working with Beatle,” he says in mock horror. I give him an easy smile.
“No, I’m not his therapist. But he is all done for the day.”
“Cool. Let’s go, bro.” With a wave to me, Sawyer opens the door, holding it for his brother. Jude gives barely a nod in my direction, but it’s more than Gianni or Sukhi get.
I stare after him, probably for way too long, before my patient comes in and forces me to get on with my day.
But Jude Donnelly doesn’t move far from the front of my thoughts, ever.
Nothing beats Wednesday wing night at Hastings after a full day of clinic. Especially a day like today.
It’s such a cliché having a crush on your best friend’s older brother. But ever since I was a teenager and first started seeing boys as more than just annoyances, I started to see Jude as something more than one of the annoying Donnelly brothers that teased Kat and me mercilessly. At least Jude wasn’t the one who ripped the heads off our Barbie dolls — that was Sawyer, and I still haven’t forgiven him completely.
But Jude was different. He was quiet, serious, and broody. He wasn’t around much, seeing as hockey consumed his life from an early age. I remember going to watch his games with the Donnellys and marveling at his athleticism as he flew across the ice. I’ve never told anyone, but it was watching him play that made me decide to go into sports medicine as a focus for my physical therapy career. Working with athletes gives a different set of challenges to my work. Their bodies are well-honed machines, but they break down just the same as anyone else. Helping them recover back to peak strength is so incredibly rewarding.
Of course, working at Dogwood Cove’s physical therapy clinic, I don’t exactly get the chance to work with many top-tier athletes. Actually, I haven’t had any athletes as patients unless you count the rec-league baseball players. Before that, it was in my university days when I landed a clinic spot with the Vancouver professional football team’s trainers.
“Hey Dean, can I put the game on?” I call over to the bar owner, who’s pulling a pint of something cold and frothy. “And can I get a saison when you get a minute?”
He gives me a quick salute, which in Dean-speak meansyesandyes. I get out of the booth and wander over to the bar, finding the remote for the big screen TVs and switching on the hockey game.
It’s not Jude’s team playing, but I really don’t care. Hockey is hockey, whether it’s the NHL or the minors. I love them all.
The speed, power, and gracefulness it takes to play the game is a beautiful thing to watch. Strength, balance, and coordination coming together in perfect harmony. Nothing beats the excitement of watching a hockey game live, and I’ve been lucky enough to attend more than a few games, courtesy of Jude’s family. But I’ll take a game at Hastings bar with a plate of wings just as happily.
“Did you already order?”
