Page 19 of Hat Trick
“Do you really think you could do that?” Riley asks.
I nod. “I do. But only if you’re willing to meet us halfway.”
“What—” He exhales slowly. “Can you give me an idea of what this plan would look like? If it’s even obtainable.”
“Of course.” I open my folder and nudge a stack of papers his way. I skipped a dinner date with the girls two nights ago to put this together, and I’m glad I did. I love my friends to death, but seeing the hope in his eyes makes a version of happiness I’ve never experienced before race through me. “That’s a list of exercises you’d start with, and we’d build from there. I consulted with an occupational therapist as well as your prosthetist, and I think with a dedicated leader who believes in you and has knowledge of your situation, youwillskate again.”
“Max,” Stuart clips, and our Manager of Player Rehabilitation sits up. “Take a look at this and see if it makes sense. If it does, I want you to be at the helm of Mitchell’s recovery. We’ll be the league leaders in rehab. Other teams will try to model their program off of ours. We could probably sell and market this?—”
“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Riley asks, and Stuart gapes at him. I do too, because I’ve never heard a player be so direct with someone in a position of power. Every person in charge of Riley’s future is in this room, and he doesn’t seem to care who he’s talking to. “Is there a reason why you’re planning to delegate this to Max when he had no part in designing the plan?”
“That’s what we pay him to do. It’s literally in his job description. It’s more labor-intensive than stretching quadriceps when a player has a cramp during a game,” Stuart answers. “He’s who I trust.”
I hate the shame that runs through me with his condescending tone.
I’m so used to defending my job to people.
They hearathletic trainerand diminish what I do to only handing out Band-Aids. They ask if I’ve slept with anyone on the team, if I’ve found a good use for the stretching tables we have in the training room, and they never believe me when I say I wouldn’t come within a hundred feet of a relationship with a player.
To hear someone who’s supposed to be mybossdiminish my work so blatantly makes me mad as hell.
So much for that Women in the Workplace celebration we had back in August.
“He’s whoyoutrust?” Riley grabs his crutches and stands. He’s unsteady on one leg—he’s not wearing his prosthetic today—but he makes a show of leaning over the table and glancing at Stuart’s lower body. “Funny. I don’t see you walking around with a missing fucking leg. Until you do,I’mthe one making decisions about who works with me. The only way I’ll agree to this is if Lexi is the one in charge. It’s her plan. It’s her job, and she outranks everyone on your team. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” Kirk interjects. “Very clear, Riley. Going forward, Ms. Armstrong will lead your rehabilitation. She’ll give us weekly progress reports to ensure you’re sticking to your end of the agreement, and we’ll uphold our end.”
“Lovely.” Riley looks my way again. It’s less intense than before, a gentleness in his gaze. A reminder he’s still in there. “You’re the best of the best, Lexi. You kept our team injury-free for eighty-two games and then some. When Hudson hurt his shoulder, you had him back on the ice in four days, and he hasn’t had any pain since. When Grant took a puck to the neck last year, he played again that night because of your treatment. You’re qualified, and you know your stuff. I’m not interested in working with someone who isn’t familiar with my body.”
Familiar with his bodysounds entirely too intimate for what I do, but Iamfamiliar with his body.
I know he’s ticklish on the back of his left leg, just above the bend of his knee. I know he prefers heating pads over ice when he’s feeling stiff. I know about the scar he had on his right foot from where he injured himself when he was a kid.
I know so much about him, but looking at him now makes me think I don’t know him at all.
Who could ever pretend to know what he’s gone through?
“I…” I rub my hands on my jeans. I feel like I’m on fire. “I would be honored to take on this role.”
“Great.” Riley makes his way to the door. “Thanks for the meeting.”
He leaves without saying anything else, and the tension in the room dissipates. Small conversations break out, and I’m surprised when Coach throws a crumpled piece of paper at my shoulder from across the table.
“Do you have a minute to stop by my office?” he asks.
Dread sinks like a brick in my stomach. My hands are clammy, but I give him a feeble nod. “Of course.”
It’s never good when Coach wants to talk to you, and I think I might be in a shitload of trouble.
TEN
LEXI
Brody Saunders wasa phenomenal hockey player.
I’ve watched tapes of him skating, and I was in awe. I’ve never seen someone move across the ice like he did. It was like poetry in motion. Athleticism disguised as raw, unfiltered beauty, and a talent I haven’t seen from anyone since.
A center and former number one draft pick who left Boston College after his freshman year, he led his team to two Stanley Cup championships in three years. He was the league’s point leader for five consecutive seasons and on his way to being one of the greatest of all time before a freak injury sidelined him.
