Page 96

I closed the email and sat with my hands on my lap, staring at nothing.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’d spent weeks pouring everything I had into fixing him. Arriving early, staying late, researching treatment options at all hours because I’d wanted him to heal. Not because it was my job. I’d seen something in him worth keeping.

And he’d thrown it back at me.

Now that same work was opening doors I hadn’t known existed.

I reopened the email and read it again. Then a third time.

The prestige. The salary. Working with internationally ranked athletes.

I’d worked hard for something like this.

I closed my laptop and stared at the wall before making myself get to work.

The water fountain was located on the second floor, around the corner from the gym. I was on my way to check on Veskar’s ankle when I heard voices near the fountain.

His voice.

I froze.

“Have you seen Dr. Lundrig?” Brashe asked.

“Not since yesterday,” Veskar said. “Why? Is your hip acting up?”

“No. I just… Never mind.”

I flattened against the wall, my heartbeat so loud in my ears I couldn’t hear if their footsteps were getting closer or farther away. I waited before moving.

This was ridiculous. I was a grown woman with a doctorate, hiding from a hockey player like I was fourteen, a newly minted freshman, and afraid someone might notice me in the school hallway. Except it didn’t feel ridiculous. It felt necessary. Seeing him would mean remembering the careful blankness in his expression when I told him to leave.

I straightened and headed back to my office, taking the long route.

Before noon, I sat in the treatment room, updating Fedor’s chart. Footsteps stopped in the doorway.

I knew who it was without looking.

“Ellie…”

“I have a patient in five minutes.” I didn’t look up from my tablet. “And it’s Dr. Lundrig when we’re working.”

Brashe’s face shifted. I caught it in my peripheral vision before I made myself look away, directing my eyes to the screen.

“Right,” he said. “Sorry.”

He left.

I stared at my tablet until the words stopped making sense, then dropped my head onto my folded arms.

I fixed people.

That’s all I did.

I ordered a sandwich from the place down the street and took it out to my car. The parking lot was quiet, most of the team inside eating or lifting or doing whatever hockey players did between practices. With game five tomorrow night, they could even be packing for the trip.

Sitting in my car, I unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite, staring at the facility entrance.

Brashe’s truck pulled into the lot.