ndle t

tment room. He shut the door behind him with one hand, his hockey stick gripped in

against the wall. "Am I early,

from my desk. "

aped him. "Good to

re wasn't a hint of fatigue in how he moved. He looked entirely, infuriatingly at ease. I pic

with overhead movement, reduced range of motion. And accord

been

e file drop slightly. "Busy pre

," he said, offering

I said flatly. His lips tw

is head without complaint and tossed it onto the plastic

too,"

cking mine. "You always thi

the shirt o

ht I was getting

te lines across his shoulder and upper arm caught my attention before I could stop myself

ng. Some players paid with broken bones.

ght down, hard. "

ed his s

lacing one hand lightly against the front of his shou

s arm was even parallel to the floor. His jaw tightened, a sharp

ix

at him. "

, defeated sigh. "

st, guiding the arm through a passive rotati

ing," he

har

y intense. I rotated the joint a fraction more, and a sharp, quiet hitc

ng back to grab the manual lotion. "Probably a part

" he muttered, looking defensive.

ible decisions with t

an audience," he said w

through an injury m

mpletely dropping from his v

joint finall

ll deal

rief shadow crossed his face, but

stepped up beside him, and placed one hand beneath his scapula to

pressing into the upper trape

iews," he said with a sm

dical prof

d, a hint of the

as my thumb caught a trigger point near the anterior deltoid. His

o m

d hard. "No

st the side of his neck to steady myself, and beneath my fingertips, his pulse was absolutely rac

ower, working carefully just beneath the clavicle

sing. "Does it

N

y the re

said quickly.

tape on the counter. "Sit up." He pu

I said, measuring a strip against his skin. "But it's onl

it under

t." Not that I cared if h

ead, watching m

physical t

w," he

tape hovering in the air. "Wh

s expression unreadable, before he

thick, as I secured the final anchor strips.

y head up.

ee again." His face wa

my diet any of

e, refusing to look away.

he cap back onto the lotion bot

y, testing the tension of the ta

oo

l-skate pract

nizing the counter, keeping my back to him w

en

. "You're really good at this," he said. Th

ard, sending a strange jolt through my ch

w you

e a single, slow nod, picked up hi

outside in the hallway, clipboard in hand. "Th

out into the hall. "Assuming h

luck getting him to do that." Arthur jus

is going to need manual therapy and rehab three times a week until he's cleare

. "I'm

the taping," Marcus said briskly. "Continuity of

ne else on staff woul

e finality of a director. "We need our best han

ouldn't push it further without ri

entirely unreadable expression cr

sday, Doc," h