Page 31 of Offside

I gathered the wet fabric and slid it down the arm instead of lifting the arm through the sleeve. His elbow stayed against his side. The cuff passed over his wrist and came free.

Bishop stood shirtless in front of me, breathing hard for a reason that was no longer just pain. The broad right shoulder sat lower than the left. His muscle tightened around the joint in a pattern my hands knew. I wouldn't touch him here. I carried the wet shirt to the table and laid it over the back of a chair.

He read Zoe's sheet. Then he took the cold sleeve out of his bag, positioned it over the shoulder with his left hand, and used the edge of the counter to hold one end while he fastened the strap himself. He set the timer on his phone. I watched him. When he finished, he glanced at the door.

"Stay until the timer goes?"

There was no medical need for me to stay. Zoe's instructions were clear. Bishop had his phone if he needed to call Reyes.

"All right." I nodded. "I'll stay until it finishes."

He sat at the kitchen table. I took the chair across from him. For the first minute, the timer was the loudest thing in the room.

"I don't usually ask," Bishop said. "Not for something like this."

"For help with a shirt? That's not much to ask."

"For anybody to help. To stay." He cocked his head, looking at me. "The shirt was the easy part."

I waited.

He put his left forearm on the table. "Mackenzie used to leave before morning because she knew I would. Before her, it had been the same in hotels and apartments, regardless of whose they were. Ten years in the league, and I don't think I've woken up next to somebody once without already knowing which one of us was leaving."

"Did you want them to stay? Even if you never asked?"

"I never asked. I decided for them first," he admitted. "It was always easier if I decided before anyone could choose to leave."

I knew that instinct. It made him take the wall instead of waiting for support, and kept him on the ice after the arm failed in September.

"You asked tonight," I said. "You made a different choice."

"Yeah."

"Why tonight? What changed enough for you to ask?"

"You know why." His eyes met mine.

I did, but knowing didn't make the situation any cleaner.

"I lost a job in Rochester," I blurted out. "I was twenty-six and I had a relationship with someone above me in the practice. She signed my evaluations."

He frowned.

"When people found out, I told less than the truth. I thought I was protecting her." I watched his face as I said it.

"What happened? Did the practice force you out?"

"I left," I said. "Severance, confidentiality agreement, a recommendation that made the move sound voluntary."

"And what happened to her after you left?"

"She stayed."

"She had power over you. That matters even if you chose her." His mouth hardened.

"Yes, but I also made choices. I kept quiet. I told myself silence protected her, and let other people decide what that silence meant." I looked at the cold sleeve strapped over his shoulder. "I'm not doing that again."

"This isn't Rochester."