Page 72 of Hell or High Water
“Good. Balance good. Not feeling tired or drained. No headache.”
Marsha nodded. “You’ve been making real progress.”
“Chance I could get back on the ice next week,” Ramsey said casually, the opposite of how he actually felt about it.
Marsha looked over at him, her normally no-nonsense face breaking into a bright smile. She knew just how hard he’d worked for this. How much he’d wanted it. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Then he was grinning too, just as big, if not bigger. “The Wolves have been talking to the Leafs about possibly letting me skate at their practice facility. They’re still working out the arrangements but Dr. Thompson feels like I’ve been doing well enough it won’t possibly trigger a relapse.” He looked over at Marsha. “I’m assuming you’re going to agree with Dr. Thompson on this. I know you send him reports.”
She shot him a knowing look. “You think I’m kicking your butt but not being honest about it to Dr. Thompson? I’m telling him everything, buddy. Probably even stuff you don’t want him to know.”
It was impossible not to laugh about that. Ramsey didn’t know that he could have, a few months back, when it seemed like he was never going to get better, and he’d be stuck on the sidelines forever, but now that the whole nightmare was nearly in his rearview, he actually could.
“Even that time I almost fell over during—”
Marsha shot him another quelling look. “Oh, I sure did.”
Ramsey made a face. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Why do you think I told you to start having sex horizontally?” Marsha raised an eyebrow. “And I’m gonna expect that you followed instructions.”
“Yeah.” What he didn’t tell Marsha was that he hadn’t hooked up much—or really, at all—since then. That had been the hookup before he’d met Nate, and he’d felt so good that night, he’d been careful.
And then after? Well, he didn’t want to blame his dry spell on Nate, but it was absolutely Nate’s fault. Nate’s fault for being the final nail in the coffin of the guy he’d used to be.
“Come on,” Marsha said, gesturing towards one of the big mats laid out across the floor. “Let’s do your stretches and work on your balance exercises. Maybe you’re nearly cleared for ice time, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna be phoning it in.”
“I’d never assume that,” Ramsey said, giving her his best serious face.
But she just laughed. “Remember when you thought you could run my shit?”
“I never thought that,” Ramsey claimed as he walked over to the mat, and carefully—he could never be too careful, or take for granted his basic balance, again—went down on one knee and into one of his stretches.
“Who are you kidding?” Marsha crossed her arms over his chest, pinning him with her best no-nonsense look. “You run everyone’s business, all the time.”
Ramsey just shrugged, a little sheepish in a way he wasn’t about his skills, most of the time.
He owned how good he was at working people, at getting what he wanted and needed, and making sure it didn’t just go one way, but that he always returned the favor.
Not many people he’d met saw through him. Wes. Brody, sometimes. Marsha, for sure. And Nate.
Most of all, Nate.
“Come on, pretty boy,” Marsha chided, nudging him with her knee. “Let’s get those stretches in.”
Ramsey re-focused, on what was the most important thing. Not Nate, but hockey.
Specifically,getting hockey back.
Chapter 10
Natewasgettingreadyfor Tuesday’s practice, tugging on his jersey over his pads, when a loud voice cut through the low-level chatter of the locker room. “Yo, you guys should’ve seen the guy the Big Dog brought to the Wild Leopard last night.”
Nate froze.
He’d known this would happen sooner rather than later, especially with Jordan involved—the guy didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut, nevermind when he had a juicy piece of gossip to share—but wasn’t prepared for it to come outthisquickly.
“What?” Levi piped up. Because of course it was Levi. “Nate brought a hot guy to the strip club?”
