Page 18 of Offside

I had drinks with my best friend Paige that evening, which was the most important item on my calendar.

Paige arrived with wine and a look that said three weeks of secondhand updates had officially run out.

“Okay,” she said, dropping onto the couch and tucking her feet under her. “I need everything. Go.”

“Hello to you too.”

“Mare. I have been living vicariously through your text updates for almost a month. I need the full picture. Start with the facility. Then tell me about the sexy ass hockey players.”

I started with the facility. Then I kept going, because it turned out I had a lot to say. The treatment rooms, the staff, Dr. Reyes, Dom, the Tuesday meetings, the joy of building something from the ground up and watching it work. Paige listened with her chin in her hand, fully invested, not missing a word.

“Okay but,” Paige said, when I paused for wine, “let’s talk about the actual working environment. Day-to-day. Because Griffin sent me a photo from training camp and I have eyes. That is a good-looking bunch of men. Like I’m gonna have to go to games.”

I laughed. “It’s a lot.”

“It’s a lot.”

“Like—okay, I knew going in. I work in sports medicine, I’ve been around professional athletes my entire career, short as it may be, so I was not walking into this blind. Athletes are good-looking,” I gestured broadly. “But Paige. It is a lot of very large, very fit men in a very small building and I say that as a medical professional who is completely unbothered by it.”

“Completely unbothered?”

“Okay. Mostly unbothered. It’s fine. You get used to it.” I took a sip. “Cole Westbrook alone is a legal hazard, I don’t know how that man is allowed to exist. He has this golden retriever energy and a toothpaste commercial smile, and he is just fun to be around. And Eli Kovac barely talks but he’s six-foot-three and has this whole brooding thing that’s kinda sexy and gruff. The rookies are adorable, and so young, some of them are basically children, the veterans are—” I stopped. “It’s fine. It’s a great work environment.” I was rambling.

Paige was grinning. “And the captain?”

I pointed at her. “Is my colleague.”

“Who is also built like a⁠—”

“Paige.”

“I’m just asking what the roster looks like up close. For my own information.”

“He’s Griffin’s best friend.” I refilled my glass. “He’s been coming to Sunday dinners. He’s at the facility every day. He is my colleague and my brother’s best friend and I am handling that extremely well.”

Paige tilted her head. “He came in today, didn’t he.”

“His shoulder’s been tight for two weeks and he finally came in.”

“So he was in your treatment room.”

“Yes.”

“On your table.”

“That is where I treat people, yes, on the treatment table⁠—”

“And you had your hands on him for…” She trailed off, awaiting my answer.

“Twenty minutes, it was a standard shoulder assessment, I have done this hundreds of times—” I addressed the ceiling. “Okay it was a little bit… I don’t know. I’m human. I’m not made of stone. He took his shirt off and sat on the table and—” I stopped and set down my glass. “I am a professional. I behaved like a professional. I gave him an exercise sheet and told him to come back Thursday.”

Paige was trying very hard not to smile and failing completely. “He’s hot though, right? On TV, he looks like a tall Viking.”

“He’s Swedish American.”

“Same energy.”

“It’s not the same—” I laughed despite myself, dropping my head back and groaning. “God. Yes. He’s hot. Like ridiculously hot. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted?”