We both turn.
Brody stands there, tape roll in hand, grinning like he just won the lottery.
“Oh. Hey. Sorry, am I interrupting something?”
“Yes,” I say.
“No,” Marnie says at the same time.
His grin widens. “Cool. So Doc, I need my ankle taped. It’s feeling a little unstable.”
“Your ankle is fine,” Marnie says flatly.
“How do you know? You haven’t even looked at it.”
“Because you were running suicide drills yesterday without any issues whatsoever.”
“Maybe it got worse overnight. Sports injuries are unpredictable.” He limps dramatically into the room and hops up on the treatmenttable. “Very unpredictable. Could look at it any time though. No rush. Take your time finishing your conversation.”
I glare at him. He ignores it completely.
Marnie’s trying not to smile. “Which ankle?”
“Right here.” He points. “Very injured. Might need extensive treatment. Could take a while.”
“Get out,” I say.
“Can’t. Medical emergency. Right, Doc?”
“Your ankle is fine,” Marnie repeats, but she’s already moving toward him, checking out of habit. “Full range of motion, no swelling, no bruising?—”
“But it feels weird.”
“Everything about you is weird,” I mutter.
Brody beams. “Thanks, Cap. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Marnie presses her fingers against his ankle in a way that makes him yelp. “Feels fine to me. You’re cleared. Goodbye.”
“But—”
“I can add ankle strengthening exercises to your PT routine if you’d like.”
He slides off the table. “You’re mean when you’re sexually frustrated. Cap, you should do something about that.”
“Brody,” I warn.
“Just saying. Team morale and all that.” He turns back at the door. “Oh, and Cap? Coach wants you in his office. Something about the power play setup. You should probably go now. Immediately.”
He leaves. The door clicks shut.
Marnie and I stare at each other.
“We should—” she starts.
“Yeah.” I don’t move toward the door. “But we’re not done with this conversation.”
“I know.”
