Page 23 of Hat Trick
“You did all of that? For me?” Riley stares at me with wide, dark eyes. “Why would you put in so much effort for something you’re not sure is going to work?”
“It’s going to work. I won’t let itnotwork.”
“Have you always been so sure of yourself?”
“I’m a woman in a male-dominated space. I’m the only female head athletic trainer in the league, and I’m the first to hold the title. Even if I don’t believe I can do it, I say I can. So, no. I haven’t always been this confident, but I’m getting there.”
“You should be.” He drums his fingers on his thigh. “You’re good at what you do.”
“I wish everyone thought that way.” I merge on the highway and turn on the radio. “What kind of music do you like?”
“No preference. I listen to pop music when I get—” Riley stops mid-sentence. “When I used to get to the arena.”
“Pop music, huh? Never would’ve guessed.” I smile and fiddle with the volume dial, turning up some hit that’s been playing on the radio for weeks. “I had you figured as a metal fan.”
“What?” He laughs loudly, and it makes me warmer than the late summer heat outside the windows. “The fuck gave you that idea?”
“I’m messing with you. I really expected classical music or something stoic. Harps, maybe?”
“It’s the glasses, isn’t it?”
“You’re a big nerd, Mitchy. Don’t hide it.”
“I like—liked—to play something upbeat before puck drop. Can’t really do that with Beethoven.” He rubs his jaw, a smirk forming. “I do know how to play piano though.”
“Shut up.”
“Dead serious. I took lessons when I was younger. Almost pursued it after middle school, but then I learned how good I am—was,fuck—at hockey, and there was no going back.” He clasps his hands together. His happiness fades away in his dejected tone. “Maybe I’ll pick it back up. I’m going to have a lot of free time.”
“No, you won’t.” I put on cruise control and keep to the right lane. I have no idea if he has any PTSD or anxiety following the accident, and the last thing I’m going to do is blaze down the highway and startle him. “We’re starting physical therapy in a week, and I need you to give it your all. Every day, sometimes twice a day. Think you can handle that?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Of course you have a choice.”
Heavy silence falls between us. I tap my fingers to the beat of the song and smile at the sunshine. It takes until I exit off the highway for Riley to talk again, and when he does, his words are strained. “I hate living like this, so I want to be able to handle it. But I’m not sure I’m going to be able to.”
“Of course you are, Mitchy. You have me in your corner,” I say, and his gaze is cautious. Reluctantly optimistic, almost. “If there’s one thing I love to do, it’s prove everyone who’s ever doubted me wrong. That’s what you’re going to do too.”
ELEVEN
RILEY
I’ve walkedthrough United Airlines Arena hundreds of times, but it’s different today.
I’m not here for a game.
I’m not here for a team meeting.
I’m not here for a morning skate.
I’m here because I’m regaining control of what’s left of my lower body, and I’m fucking terrified.
“Morning Mr. Mitchell.” Darnell, one of the longtime arena custodians, waves in my direction. “Good to see you.”
“Morning, sir,” I answer, getting my head out of my ass.
I might be pissed off at the world, but the last thing I’m going to do is give the man who’s worked for the team for three decades the cold shoulder.
