Chapter Eight

Reeve

Sitting here next to Keely on my couch, eating ice cream with her in my clothes, and watching the large Alaska fishing vessel show is the last thing I would have thought I'd be doing right now, but here we are.

The best part about tonight is the information dumps she gives me during the commercial breaks.

My knee is killing me right now, but I won't let Keely see the pain it's causing me. She set me up with a spot on the couch and scrounged around the house to find every pillow she could for elevating my leg. She keeps on top of making sure that I have a new ice pack from the freezer each hour to keep the pain down to a dull throbbing instead of the sharp stabbing pain it is if the ice pack gets too warm.

If she thinks I'm managing the pain well enough with ice packs, I'm hoping she'll stop asking about why I won't take anything for the pain.

Everyone has a piece of their past that they'd rather not drum up, and I'm no different.

I watch as she dips her spoon into the carton of Rocky Road ice cream that I'm holding up in my hand for her. And then I watch as her full pink lips wrap around the spoon to take her bite.

I've never wanted to be a piece of stainless steel before in my life... not up until now.

I shake the thought of being licked clean by Keely and keep on the conversation moving before the commercial breaks ends.

"You used to be a PT for a college football team? If I had had you as my PT in college, I think I might've tried to get injured on purpose just to see you," I say.

She tilts her head back and laughs. It's too early to be this addicted to her but it's too late.

I'm already hooked.

She points her spoon at me. "Nice try. You didn't go to college. You were drafted right out of high school."

"Oh, is that right?" I ask, an eyebrow raised at her knowledge of my career. "And how did you know that?"

She rolls her eyes playfully. "That wasn't a tough one. Most Hawkeyes fans know your draft history."

Okay... I'll give her a pass.

"I guess you're right. But if I knew you were the PT for a college hockey team, I might have skipped the NHL for another four years," I tease, dipping my own spoon into the chocolate ice cream and taking a big bite.

"Oh please, you would not have put off your career for four years just to see me in the PT room, that's ridiculous. And besides, it would put us in the same position we are in now. We can't date since I'm your physical therapist. The college had an obvious rule against student athletes and staff."

"Well I'm not a student, though I'd be happy to learn anything you want to teach me." And I mean anything. "And the Hawkeyes don't have anything against players and staff. It wouldn't be an issue if, for example, you and I dated."

Her eyes shift from the commercial about the importance of deworming your pets annually and stares at me.

"Reeve, I'm your PT."

"I know, I'm just saying that it's not exactly a professional ethics issue if your employer doesn't care, right?"

"I don't know, I guess I'd have to think about that. And I don't have a permanent job with the Hawkeyes yet. Plus, I still have a lot on my plate with this move to Seattle. I'm not in a good place to consider dating anyone."

Right now isn't a great time for me either. I didn't want any distractions this season and now, if Dr. Morgan is right and I can't rehab this knee, a distraction like Keely will be the least of my issues. I'll be looking for a new career.

"I'm not trying to pressure you. We both have a lot to do over the next six weeks," I say.

"Exactly. Let's focus on getting you back on the ice."

"You're right," I say. "Do you want the last bite or ice cream? I saved a marshmallow for you."

She smiles over at me. "Sure, thanks," she dips her spoon in and scoops the last bite. "You said you grew up in Alaska."

"Yeah, I did."

"Then how did you end up playing hockey for a high school in Houston, Texas?"

A wide grin pulls at my lips.

"What?" she asks.

"You've been stalking me on the internet."

It's not a question--she might as well have just admitted it.

"Damn it," I hear her mutter to herself.

I got her.

"I…" she stutters, scrambling for a cover. "It's part of my job to know your injury history, and since I don't have a medical file on you yet, I had to get what I could."

"What does my medical history have to do with where I grew up and where I went to high school?" I ask.

She diverts her attention back to the TV, and I can almost see the gears turning in her head, trying to devise a better excuse.

"There's actually a lot of studies working to answer that question. Some research suggests that water purity and air quality could possibly play a big enough role in bone density as a child. Stronger bones lead to less injury."

She's grasping for straws and we both know it.

"Hey, Doc…" I say, pulling her attention back. Her eyes meet mine--we both know I won this round. "If you had a Wikipedia page about you I would have already read every word."

"Yeah, well, physical therapists don't typically have those," she shoots back.

"I know. I already looked."

Even with only the blue light of the TV casting a glow across Keely's face, I can see the blush warm on her cheeks.

"You looked me up?" she asks, genuine surprise in her voice.

"I tried. I couldn't find anything on Keely Woods," I say. "Unless it's under something else. You're not secretly married or something, are you?"

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she looks like she's forgotten to breathe. But then I see the softness in her eyes when she realizes I'm joking.

She shakes her head. "No, I'm not secretly married. Just an ordinary PT with a passion for ice cream and a knack for proving you wrong."

"Well, the PT and ice cream are true at least," I say, unable to suppress a smile. "I guess you're just a mystery that I'll have to discover myself."

Keely lets out a yawn, her eyes fluttering, and she attempts to keep them open with limited success.

It's been a long day for both of us, and a little rest would be good.

I set the empty carton of ice cream on the coffee table nearby, and we polished it off.

Before I know it, Keely falls asleep, her head against my shoulder, and it's not long before my eyelids are too heavy to keep open.

Keely

I wake in a panic to the sound of Reeve groaning in pain.

"Reeve... Reeve," I say, rubbing my hand gently over his chest.

His eyes burst open to my voice. "Huh?" he says, almost like I woke him from a nightmare, and he doesn't know where he is.

"You're in your apartment with me. Are you in pain?" I ask.

He grimaces and then nods. He's still groggy from sleep and whatever I woke him from.

"Are you sure you don't want anything? Even Tylenol? Just a little something to help take the swelling down?" I ask.

I still have no idea what he has against pain meds but he's in so much pain right now that I just want to get him comfortable.

"No, I'll be okay. I just need another ice pack."

It's not what I was hoping to hear but this is his choice at the end of the day. However, it's easier to heal when you're not always tensing up in pain.

"Come on, let's get you in bed so you can stretch out. I'll bring your pillows in, prop you up and get you another ice pack."

It isn't long before I get Reeve into bed and settled. Once the new ice pack gets his knee numb again, he falls asleep.

I leave his bedroom door open so I can listen for him, and then I fall back to sleep on the couch.

I don't know what happened to make Reeve swear off even over-the-counter painkillers, but I have to find something else to help manage his pain if we're going to be able to jump into physical therapy.

Tomorrow, I'll start my research.