Page 108 of The Replay

"Do you need help changing clothes?" she asks.

I shake my head. "I'm okay. Go get comfortable."

It's a more involved, slower process, but I undress to my underwear while she putters around getting ready. After a short while, Mariana comes out of my ensuite bathroom in a navy satin set, simple in its shiny and matte stripes and black lace edging. It shouldn't be sexy, covering most of her body despite the strappy, V-neck top, but I never needed much encouragement to decide she looks wonderful.

She hovers near my bed, wringing her hands together. I sigh and sit on my bed. Never did I ever think we'd be here like this.

"It's a nice bedroom," she says.

If anyone had been here before, they might have called it masculine. Full of modern lines, creams and whites contrast with a dark charcoal wall and bedding. Darkened, distressed wood brings warmth to the space with deep caramel and tobacco shades, and I even keep a few pillows in a dark mustard color on the bed. It makes me feel put together.

I smile. "Come. Get cozy. I just need to do a couple of things."

We keep our voices low. The brace sits to my side, waiting. My injured leg is stretched, and I reach for the tube of ointment I left earlier on my side table.

"Can I help?" she asks.

"You don't need to help me."

"I want to. It would make me feel better."

I shake my head, open the tube, and squirt some onto my palm. "I told you I wanted your company, nothing else."

"Let me help, will you?"

I fake a sigh and let her help me get on the bed without straining my knee. She scoops the ointment from me and works it on the joint. I lean back against the pillows, and try not to think of how homey this all feels.

"So what's next with your treatment?" she asks.

"I'll know more tomorrow, but for the next few weeks I'll be off games and focused on therapy and recovery. Best case, I get to play most of the playoffs. Worst case, I end up needing arthroscopic surgery plus six weeks of therapy after, with recovery aiming for my return for the next season."

"How are you feeling about everything?"

"I hate this. Whether we win the championship again or not, if I'm not there, I'll feel awful."

"But you'll recover. You'll get another chance next year regardless, right?"

"Yeah. I'm just greedy."

She glances at me with a small smile tilting her lips. "I get the feeling that to be an athlete at your level you have to be greedy. Though I'd call it competitive."

"Potato, tomato."

She laughs. "I'm pretty sure that's not how that goes."

I shrug, enjoying her hands on me, even if it's a medical type of touch. The ointment has a chemical scent to it. I focus on the warmth radiating from the spot, and cross my hands over my stomach. Once she's done, she goes to wash her hands and I put the brace back on.

It takes some time but, after a while, we're finally cozy in bed together.

I'm breathless in a way I didn't expect.

"So your friends know there's something between us," she says. "And Cora suspects, after having heard through the grapevine that I visited you in the hospital."

"Thank you for the visit, by the way. I didn't expect it."

"I couldn't help it. I care about you."

With a full brace while waiting for more tests, I can only sleep on my back. She cuddles up to me, finding a way for us to gaze at each other. I caress her face with the back of my hand.