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And that felt more dangerous than the anger ever had.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

BRASHE

The instruction sheet sat on my nightstand, backlit by my phone at 4:17 AM.

I’d been staring at it for over an hour, my brain refusing to shut off long enough to let me sleep.

Her handwriting covered the margins now. Notes from yesterday’s session. Corrections to my form. Reminders about breathing through the stretches instead of holding my breath.

At the bottom, next to the frowny face she’d drawn weeks ago, she’d drawn a smiley face. Tiny, it was nearly hidden in the corner. Maybe she’d drawn it without thinking and then hoped I wouldn’t notice.

I’d noticed.

The grade two diagnosis made my hip throb worse, my body reminding me I’d fucked up in a way I couldn’t ignore. I’d turned a manageable injury into something that could cost us the first round of playoffs. If we were knocked out, it would be my fault.

I worried she’d tell me she was done. That I was too much work. I’d been convinced Patty would take over my case because I’d proven I couldn’t be trusted to follow basic instructions. But Ellie had kept working with me.

I sat up, my hip protesting the movement with a dull ache that radiated down my inner thigh.

I got out of bed and did every single exercise perfectly.

The hip flexor stretch burned. The adductor mobility work made my teeth clench. But I held each position for the full thirty seconds, breathing through the discomfort the way she’d taught me.

When I’d finished, I set the timer on my phone and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer.

Twenty minutes on. Twenty off.

I sat on the couch in the dark, cold seeping into my hip, and stared at the instruction sheet some more.

The smiley face stared back.

By the time I pulled into the facility parking lot at 7:15, the sun was burning through the early morning haze. The lot was nearly empty, only a handful of cars scattered across the spaces reserved for staff.

Her silver sedan sat in the back row.

She was always early. I’d figured that out within the first week. She arrived early every morning, carrying her favorite coffee cup. She’d go inside and get things ready before heading to the treatment room. Tug new strips of paper over the tables. Lay out rubber gloves. Go through plans for each of the injured members of my team. I could picture her doing all that now.

That’s when I realized I’d been sitting in my truck for twenty minutes, staring at her car, hoping it would give me answers.

This was pathetic.

I’d done this yesterday too. And the day before. Sat here working up the nerve to walk inside like I was an orcling who hadn’t figured out how doors worked yet.

But today felt different. I’d bet today she was going to tell me she was done.

I needed to go inside and prove I could show up on time without being a disaster. But my hands remained locked on the steering wheel, and my brain kept spiraling through every version of the conversation we were about to have.

You’re too much work, Brashe.

I can’t fix you if you won’t listen.

Patty’s taking over your case.

A knock on my window made me jump.

Veskar stood outside my truck, grinning like he’d won the cup single-handedly.