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Her hands went completely still. Then she pressed down hard enough that I flinched.

“You’re a pain in my ass, Kedish,” she said quietly. “But you’re my pain in the ass. At least for the next week or so.” She pulled her hands away. “Sit up.”

I did, and suddenly we were close enough that I could see the exact shade of green in her eyes. When she exhaled, I felt it on my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have⁠—”

“You’re right.” She held my gaze. “You shouldn’t have. It’s bullshit. We can’t do this right now. You’re still injured. You’re still my patient. I have a job to do.”

“And after?”

“After what in particular?”

“After I’m healed and cleared and I’m not your patient anymore.”

The door opened, and we jumped apart like we’d been caught doing something we shouldn’t.

Coach Beecham walked in, his gaze moving between us.

“How’s my goalie doing?” he asked.

Ellie’s professional mask snapped back into place fast.

“Progressing,” she said. “He’ll be ready for game three if he follows the treatment plan.”

“Good.” The coach looked at me. “Are you listening to her?”

I was still looking at Ellie. “I am.”

“Keep it up.” He left, and the silence that followed felt heavier than before.

“So,” she said. “Game three. Can you handle that?”

“Can you?”

A frown creased her brow. “We’ll find out.”

By the time I left the building thirty minutes later, my hip felt like it had been worked over with a sledgehammer.

In a good way, more or less.

Outside the arena, I walked down the road to the coffee place where Ellie bought something to drink each morning. After making my purchase, I walked back.

I set the coffee I’d picked up and a pastry bag with a donut on the treatment room desk with a sticky note pressed to the coffee cup lid. Thanks for not giving up on me. —B

Turning, I left.

I made it to the parking lot before I pivoted, fully planning to go back inside and take the coffee and donut away before she saw it. What if she thought I was trying to manipulate her? What if Crim found out and thought I was crossing a line? What if she just thought it was pathetic?

I forced myself to get into my truck and drive. The coffee was already there. Taking it back would be worse than leaving it.

Probably.

My phone buzzed before I got halfway home. I pulled over to the side of the road and put my vehicle in park.

My heart stopped when I saw Crim’s name on the screen. Damn. He knew about the coffee. Maybe Ellie had texted him. Or maybe he had that sibling sixth sense that told him when someone was trying to court his sister.

I was dead. Actually dead. Crim was going to rip my arms off and beat me with them, and Coach would just shrug and say I should’ve known better.