Page 231 of Risking the Pucking Defense

“Sure. You leave her your number, and we’ll see who’s right when she tosses it in the trash and never calls.”

“You know, you’re being really fucking negative. My entire season has just been fucked up; you should be sending me positive vibes,” Killer sulks, giving Rett and Linc his best pout.

“You’re probably right,” I add. “She was just being professional. She’ll probably ask for your address so she can be your personal nurse later and give you a special bed bath.”

“See, that’s the kind of thing I need to hear,” Killer says, grinning at me.

The conversation turns to last night’s game, and ultimately to Cooper Nash.

“Kodie is still savage this morning, apparently,” Linc says. “Casey sent a voice note ranting that he won’t let it go.”

“Does anyone know what went down with them?” I ask, still curious as fuck.

“Nope. Kodie’s never said anything. Just that he can’t stand the guy. I guess we all have a reason not to like him now.”

A ripple of anger and frustration goes through the room.

“This is fucking bullshit,” Killer snaps. “I’m out, and the hot nurse doesn’t even want me.”

“Oh, so you’re admitting it now?” Rett teases, earning a death glare.

“What if no women want me now that I’m broken?” Killer continues.

“That’ll never happen. They’ll all be flocking to you for the chance to be that nurse Monroe described.”

“I fucking hope so. I refuse to be injured and sexless. It’s just not happening.”

We stay with Killer until we’re needed at the arena. While his season might be over, the rest of us still have a game against San Diego to prepare for. And without him, things just got a hell of a lot harder.

“What do you think Coach is going to do?” Rett asks as we make our way out of the hospital.

“No idea,” Linc mutters. “We’ve got options, but will he want some fresh meat?”

“You think he might get a trade?” Rett asks, clearly concerned about who he’s going to be partnered with for the rest of the season.

It’s not just Killer’s absence that’ll give us issues going forward; if Rett ends up paired with someone he doesn’t gel with, it’s going to fuck up our entire defense.

“Coach will make the right decision,” I say confidently.

“Killer isn’t listening; we can drop the positive comments now,” Rett says, sounding a little too much like his old grumpy self.

“Monroe’s right,” Linc says. “We gotta trust Coach to know what he’s doing.”

Coach works us ruthlessly for the next three days. We don’t get any kind of clue as to what he’s planning, but between him and our defensive coach, they put each of us through our paces. I always give one hundred percent, but knowing that we’re one of our best men down means I give even more. And every night, I’m on my knees. Not literally, because they hurt too much to be on them.

Every night, I’ve gone back to Hailee’s, and she’s run me a bath before wrapping me in ice packs and delivering me food. Depending on how her day has gone, sometimes they’re homemade, and if she’s been busy, she orders us takeout.

Even though we’re both exhausted and mostly just slump on her couch or in bed together, she’ll still be working while I watch the TV or read my book, but I love being with her. There’s something so soothing about her presence.

Despite not feeling ready to head out again, when my alarm goes off before the sun rises, I don’t waste any time in throwing the covers off and crawling out of bed. I can’t stay in there; there’s too big a risk I’ll get distracted by the hot body sleeping next to mine.

“No,” she groans, reaching for me.

“Go back to sleep, baby,” I whisper.

She was up late working last night, and like most nights, I fell asleep long before she’d finished.

“But you won’t be back until late,” she pouts, although her eyes stay closed.