“Then prove it.” Ken stands up. “Natalie Cross is one of the best in her field. She can help you get back on the ice, but only if you let her. It's up to you how this goes. You can cooperate and give yourself a real shot at returning to form. Or you can keep pushing people away and see where that gets you.”
He walks to the door and pauses with his hand on the handle.
“Your first session with her is in two hours. I suggest you show up ready to work.”
He leaves, and I'm alone with the barely veiled threats he issued.
My contract, my career, and my entire future are all hanging by a thread. And on top of that, I have to play nice with a physical therapist who smiles and talks too much.
3
Natalie
I pause outside the entrance of the training facility and do a discreet armpit check. The walk from Starlight Suites wasn't long, but the heat is unforgiving, and the last thing I need is to show up to my first day smelling like a locker room.
I seem okay. Thank God for deodorant.
I check the time on my phone. A few minutes to eleven. I’m right on schedule.
The security guard at the front desk examines my ID and checks his computer. “Natalie Cross. Physical therapy department.” He hands me a lanyard with a temporary badge. “You'll get your permanent credentials from HR later today. Take the elevators to the third floor. Someone will meet you there.”
“Thank you.”
The elevator doors slide open on the third floor, and as the security guard said, Ken Wagner is waiting for me. He's in his fifties with grey hair and a professional demeanor. “Welcome to the team, Natalie. Ready for the grand tour?”
“Absolutely.”
He leads me through the facility, and I try to absorb everything at once. There's a state-of-the-art gym with every piece of equipment imaginable, a hydrotherapy pool that could fit a small yacht, and treatment rooms with every piece of technology imaginable.
The place makes my old clinic in Charlotte look like a garage operation.
“We have everything you could possibly need here,” Ken says as we walk. “If there's something we don't have, we'll get it. The organization spares no expense when it comes to player health.”
I nod, though I can’t imagine what else I could possibly need that is not already here.
We end up in the medical wing, where Ken introduces me to the rest of the team. Dr. Reid Burke is the head physician, Lane Stevens is the head athletic trainer, and Hillary Holmes is the massage therapist.
Then there are the assistant trainers, Adan and Apollo, who look like they could be brothers with their matching dark hair and easy grins. George is the chiropractor, soft-spoken with gentle hands when he shakes mine. And Lilly, a petite redhead, is the nutritionist.
Everyone is friendly and welcoming. They ask about my background and seem impressed when I briefly tell them my background.
Then Hillary leans in and lowers her voice. “So you're taking on Ethan Ward.”
“That's right.”
She exchanges a look with Lane. One that doesn’t exactly bode well for how our sessions will go. I kind of got the impression yesterday that he’s not the warmest person in the world. “Good luck with that,” she says with a scoff.
“He's going through a tough time,” Lane adds quickly. “The injury hit him hard. He's not exactly pleasant right now.”
“I've worked with difficult patients before.”
Ken reappears and checks his watch. “Your first session with Ethan is in ten minutes. Treatment room three. I'll walk you over.”
Ken gives me a few last-minute tips. Be patient. Don't take anything personally. He stops walking and faces me. “I need you to understand the stakes here, Natalie.
“Ethan's contract is up for renewal next season. If he can't get back on the ice, there's a real chance the organization won't re-sign him. We've already been through two other physical therapists. This is his last chance.”
I think of the angry man I met yesterday. The tight jaw, the cold eyes, and the hostility radiating off him in waves. Sympathy tugs at my chest. No wonder he's so moody. His entire career is hanging in the balance. Anyone would be difficult under those circumstances.
