“You good?” Logan asks quietly.
“Fine.”
“Because that seemed like—”
“I said I’m fine.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Chill, Zay. Just asking.”
I finish getting dressed in silence, trying to shake off the anger coiling in my chest. It’s not even about Grayson. Not really. It’sabout the fact that he said out loud what I’ve been trying not to think, and hearing someone else talk about Tori like that made me want to put my fist through his face.
That’s not a normal reaction to have about your physical therapist.
That’s a problem.
• • •
I find her in the training room for my post-game check.
She’s got resistance bands laid out, her tablet open, all business as usual. But when I walk in, she looks up, and there’s something warmer in her expression than I’m used to seeing.
“Nice game,” she says. “That goal was impressive.”
“You saw it?”
“I told you I’d be watching.” She gestures to the table. “Let’s see how the shoulder held up.”
I settle onto the table, still in my suit pants and white undershirt. She moves closer, and I catch a whiff of her shampoo—something floral, subtle—and then her hands are on my shoulder, and I’m right back where I started this morning.
Except now she’s close enough that I can see the small freckle on her jaw. The way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks when she looks down.
“Movement looks good,” she murmurs, rotating my arm slowly. “Any pain during the game?”
“Nothing major. Tightness in the third, but it loosened up.”
“That’s normal. We’ll ice tonight and reassess in the morning before Detroit.”
She leans in to check my range of motion, and I notice her pause. Just for a second. Her eyes flick to my neck, then away.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. You just—” She steps back, cheeks going pink. “You smell good. Whatever that body wash is.”
I chuckle softly while Tori turns pink.
“Ignore me. Sorry. That was weird.” She steps back, suddenly very interested in her tablet. “I mean—compared to some of the guys who come in here post-game, you’re practically a breath of fresh air. Martinez nearly knocked me out last week.”
“High praise.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
But I’m grinning now, and she’s fighting a smile. This is what I like about being around her, the ease of it, the way she makes me feel like I can just... be.
“You’re all set,” she says, still not quite meeting my eyes. “Ice for twenty, then get some sleep. We travel early tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I hop off the table, and our hands brush as I reach for my jacket on the chair behind her. Just the barest contact—her fingers against mine—and it shouldn’t mean anything.
