Page 32 of Offside

"No," I said. "But I'm still responsible for your care. My notes are in your contract process. Wanting this to be different doesn't make the power imbalance disappear."

"What do you want to be different? Tell me what you want." His voice was rough.

The timer still had four minutes on it.

"I don't want ordinary," I said. "Not with you."

Bishop's left hand opened on the table.

"This isn't ordinary. Not for me either."

"You're right." I stood before I'd decided to.

He stayed in his chair, looking up at me. The size of him usually changed the scale of a room. Seated with his right arm held close, it was my choice to close the space between us. I crossed it.

My fingers touched his face. The contact was personal from the first electric touch. I didn't need a professional excuse. His beard was rough beneath my palm, his jaw warm. He turned his head into my hand. His left hand came to my waist and stopped there.

"Pryce," he said, his hand still at my waist.

"Declan," I breathed.

His eyes changed. He stood. Even careful of the shoulder, he rose into my space until my hand slid from his cheek to the side of his neck. His mouth was close enough that I felt his breath against mine. He waited. So did I. The distance narrowed without either of us moving enough to claim it.

I wanted his mouth. I could feel how hard he was for me.

But that didn't erase the file, the table, or the fact that he'd trusted me with a failing joint less than an hour earlier.

"Wait," I said, fighting for control of myself.

Bishop stopped. We were so close I could feel his breath mingling with mine.

"Okay." His hand remained at my waist without tightening, and he leaned his forehead against mine, breathing hard.

I stepped back. Losing the heat of him felt sudden enough to hurt.

"I can't be your physical therapist and pursue this," I said firmly.

"Then I want a transfer. I want Zoe to take my shoulder."

I looked at him.

"First," he said. "I want a transfer to her care."

"That has consequences for you. Your care may feel different under her hands."

"I know it will. I still want the transfer."

"And there may be consequences for my job and reputation too," I added.

"I know that too. Mine, too. We'll disclose it together." He ran the back of his fingers along my jaw. "We'll tell them before they find out." His eyes held mine. "I want the transfer. And I want you. I'll settle for that order."

13

Bishop

Zoe was setting out resistance bands when I reached the training room Friday morning. Declan stood at the far table with Eriksson's ankle in his hands. He looked up when I came through the door. Neither of us had slept much. I could see it in the skin beneath his eyes and the way he held still while he waited to see what I would do. I went to Zoe.

"I need you to take responsibility for my care."