Jake just shakes his head and moves on to help Marnie, who’s now examining Anderson’s shoulder. Then Brody’s ankle, the one he tweaked last week. Then the new rookie whose name I can never remember. She works through every player methodically, taking her time, being thorough.
Not once looking in my direction.
“She’s making you wait,” Dex observes, still lingering near my table for the entertainment value. “On purpose.”
“She’s working through her patients in order.”
“She’s making a point.” He stands, testing his weight. “That you don’t get special treatment just because you’ve been staring at her like a lovesick teenager for three weeks.”
“I haven’t?—”
“Cap. You notice when she changes her coffee order. When she’s wearing different shoes. When she’s had a rough morning before she even says a word.” He pauses. “It’s not subtle.”
Before I can formulate a defense, Marnie’s finally making her way over, Jake trailing behind herwith supplies.
“Captain,” she says, all business. “How’s the shoulder?”
“Fine.”
“Mm.” She removes my ice pack, and I’m hyperaware of her proximity as she begins testing the joint. Her hands are cool and practiced, movements controlled and professional.
Except there. Her fingers linger slightly on my shoulder blade. Just a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
Then it’s gone, and I’m wondering if I imagined it.
“Full range of motion,” she murmurs, more to herself than me. “No catching. Strength is improving.”
“So I’m cleared?”
“For modified work.” She steps back, making notes. “Higher resistance next week. We’ll reassess overhead movements Friday.”
“How long until actual hockey?”
“When your shoulder can handle actual hockey.” She looks up, meets my eyes directly. “Rushing it means sitting out longer later. We’ve discussed this.”
“Multiple times,” I mutter.
“Then stop asking.” She’s smiling slightly as she says it. “Any pain with today’s modified workout?”
“Some tightness. Nothing serious.”
“Good.” She makes a final note. “Ice tonight. Same protocol. See you Friday.”
Jake’s organizing supplies behind her, and I catch him mouth “you’re fucked” at me before turning away.
“That’s it?” I ask Marnie.
Her eyebrow lifts. “Were you expecting more?”
Yes. No. Something more than the five minutes she just gave me after spending fifteen with Rodriguez’s fake wrist injury.
“Just seems quick,” I say.
“Your shoulder’s progressing well. Doesn’t need extensive intervention today.” She’s already turning to leave. “Unless there’s something else?”
There are about a hundred something elses. None I can say in front of Jake and Dex and the stragglers still hanging around.
“No. We’re good.”
