Chapter One
First Stretch
Winnie
Three rules.
That’s all I need to survive the next six months.
One: No men.
Two: No shrinking myself for anyone.
Three: No repeating old mistakes.
I push through the glass doors of the New York Knights training facility with my yoga mat bag slung over one shoulder. The lobby is all glass and chrome, the particular gleam of organizations with more money than they know what to do with.
I’ve been here before—twice for interviews, once for paperwork—but today feels different. Today it’s real. Today I’m not a candidate. I’m the team’s new yoga instructor.
Holy dream job. Someone pinch me.
Dana Cross, the Director of Athletic Performance, meets me at the security desk with a warm smile and a lanyard. “Winnie. Welcome to day one.”
“Thanks. I’m happy to be here.” I loop the lanyard around my neck, my photo badge settling against my chest. It looks official. I look official.
“The training room is all set up for you,” Dana says as we walk. “The first session is at ten. That gives you about forty-five minutes to get settled.”
“Perfect.”
“Any questions before I leave you to it?”
About a thousand, but none I’m willing to voice.
“I think I’m good.”
“Great.” She squeezes my arm. “You’re going to do great. And if anyone gives you trouble, my door is always open.”
Something in her tone makes me pause, but she’s already heading down the hall before I can ask what she means.
The training room is bigger than I remembered—rubber flooring, good lighting, enough space for twenty-plus athletes to spread out. I take a slow turn, letting it sink in.
This is my fresh start. My new beginning. The first day of the rest of my life, or whatever inspirational poster nonsense applies here.
I think about texting Tori.
She’s been my best friend since college—we met freshman year when we both reached for the last slice of pizza at a dorm event and decided to split it rather than fight. We’ve been sharing things ever since: appetizers, secrets, and the occasional emotional breakdown.
She’s also the reason I have this job. She’s newly engaged to a Knight’s player and recentlyopened her own sports medicine clinic across town. She’s been so busy building her empire that I’ve barely seen her in weeks, but she still texts me approximately forty-seven times a day.
She’d want to know I survived my first morning.
Me:First official day. I have a lanyard and everything.
Tori:LANYARD PICS OR IT DIDN’T HAPPEN
I snap a selfie, making sure the badge is visible, and send it off.
Tori:Look at you!! Professional yoga goddess for an NHL team. The guys won’t know what hit them.
