one
. . .
Clark
It had beenone week since we won the Stanley Cup, and my days had been filled with interviews, celebrations, and doctor appointments. More celebrations than anything else, and I’d consumed more champagne than any one human should. But there was a time and a place for everything.
Work hard. Play hard.
To say that I was happy to be back in Rosewood River was an understatement. I’d be able to train at home for the next few months while I recovered from my MCL injury and get myself in game shape before the new season.
Home had always grounded me. It was the place where I focused best.
Surrounded by family, running trails, and the river. Less distractions, good support, and I had a killer home gym that made it very convenient.
Bottom line, this is where I did my best training.
I made my way to the kitchen and finished putting away a few groceries that I’d brought back with me from the city. I was still limping a little bit, though I tried hard to will it away. And now that all the excitement of winning the cup was settling down, thereality was hitting me that this injury was real and wouldn’t be going away on its own. I bent down and adjusted my knee brace, stretching my leg a bit from side to side.
The pain was definitely still there, and I grabbed an icepack and took a seat at the kitchen island, resting the ice on my knee as I propped my leg up. I glanced down when my phone vibrated, and Ryan Weston’s name flashed across the screen. He was my teammate and one of my best friends. We just clicked from the first day we met at the start of last season. He was more like a brother; we just got one another. Weston played right wing, and I played center, so he and I liked to give one another shit about who could score more goals in a game. We worked well together, and it showed when we were on the ice.
“What’s up, brother?” I said, reaching for my water bottle and taking a sip.
“Just seeing if you made it back home all right.”
“Yep. Got in a little while ago, just getting unpacked and settled,” I said, setting my water down on the island. “How are you feeling?”
He barked out a laugh. We’ve been going hard for the last few days as the Lions fans in San Francisco had come out to celebrate us and our win in full force. Last night, there was been a big celebration downtown, and we enjoyed every minute.
“I’ve been chugging water all day. No more booze for me. I start training next week. How’s the knee feeling?”
“It’ll be fine,” I said, blowing out a breath.
I was frustrated. I was coming off the best season of my life, playing for the team I’ve dreamed about playing for since I was a kid. And now I was fucking injured, at a time when I needed to push even harder. All eyes would be on me when the new season started. Hockey was my priority, and everything I’ve ever wanted was right here in my grasp. I just needed my knee to healand then push harder than ever over the next few months. “It’s not something I haven’t dealt with before.”
“Yeah, you’ve got this, dude. No doubt about it. And Coach has a full-time physical therapist coming to work with you,” he said as he barked out a laugh. “And from what I just overheard, she’s not all that happy about it.”
Coach’s daughter, Eloise Gable, had just been hired by the Lions as our full-time physical therapist, and Coach wanted me to work with her to get my knee healthy before the season started again in a few months.
I groaned. “Well, she’s clearly not a fan of mine. She’s snapped at me the two times I’ve actually spoken to her, and she glared at me last night when I poured that bottle of champagne over Coach Gable’s head, along with everyone else on the team, but she seems specifically annoyed with me. What did you hear?”
“I went over to the training center this morning because I left my gym bag there, and she came storming out of Coach’s office, then snapped something about seeing him in three months seeing as he banished her to Rosewood River.” He howled in laughter. “I’m sorry to tell you, but I think we found the first woman who wants nothing to do with you, even if everyone else thinks you’re the NHL’s golden boy.”
I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. “She’s acting like he sent her to the North fucking Pole. It’s Rosewood River. Everyone loves it here. It’s offensive that she’s that worked up about it, and I sure as shit didn’t request for her to come here.”
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” He chuckled. “You know I love Rosewood River. But good luck winning Eloise Gable over. I think you’re already enemy number one.”
I ran a hand down my face. “You seem to be enjoying this.”
“Nah, you know I’ve got your back. I’m just not used to seeing a woman start out hating you like this. It might be kind of fun to watch.” The sound of him clapping his hands together loudly had me pulling the phone away from my ear. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, brother.”
“Listen, I’m just focused on getting this knee back on track and then pushing hard over the next three months. We’re going to be on everyone’s radar this coming season. Eloise Gable is the least of my worries. I’m not going to let her annoyance about being here be a distraction. I didn’t demand she come here; Coach did. I’m happy to rehab my knee myself. I’ve done it before. If she doesn’t want to be here, then so be it. I’m doing my thing.”
“Dude, this might be more challenging than you think. I know she’s Coach’s daughter, but damn, she’s smoking hot.” He whistled. “So good luck with all of that.”
“Please. I’m a professional athlete. I’ve handled worse. I’m not worried at all.”
“All right, brother. You do have a one-track mind when it comes to hockey. And keeping your distance from Coach’s daughter is probably not a bad idea,” he said, his voice laced with humor. “And don’t you have your big hometown Chadwick celebratory parade tomorrow?”
