ice & fire: A Ice Hockey Romance

Chapter 8: Push and Pull

The weeks rolled on, and Jake's physical therapy sessions became grueling stretches and strength training routines. Maeve was relentless, pushing him harder each day, and while he appreciated her determination, it often left him frustrated. It was a push-and-pull that mirrored their growing dynamic, filled with tension simmering just beneath the surface.

"Let's go, Mercer! You can do better than that!" Maeve's voice rang out as she watched him struggle through a set of leg lifts, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't want to be a human pretzel," he shot back, gritting his teeth as he pushed through the pain.

"Then why don't you just lie down and give up?" she challenged, crossing her arms with a smirk. "I thought hockey players were tough."

He rolled his eyes, frustration bubbling up. "I'm tough! But this is ridiculous!"

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You're not just a hockey player anymore, Jake. You're a man learning to overcome something big. Stop fighting me, and start fighting for yourself."

Her words struck a chord, piercing through his bravado. "Fine," he huffed, refocusing on his lifts. "But I still think you're a sadist."

Maeve laughed, the sound lightening the mood even as he pushed through the discomfort. "A sadist who cares if you get back on that ice."

As the session progressed, they fell into their familiar rhythm, a blend of playful banter and serious work. Jake found himself opening up more, sharing snippets of his life beyond hockey-memories of his childhood, his family, and even his love for cooking. He was surprised to find that she was a good listener, and her genuine interest in getting to know him made him feel at ease.

"I had no idea you were such a foodie," Maeve remarked as Jake gushed about his favorite dishes.

He laughed, sitting back on the therapy table as he stretched out his legs. "Yeah, cooking has always been a passion of mine. My mom is an amazing cook, so I learned a lot from her growing up."

Maeve's eyes softened at the mention of his mother. "She must be proud of you."

Jake shrugged, a hint of sadness crossing his features. "I hope so. We don't really talk as much anymore with my hockey career keeping me busy. My parents live about two hours out of the city, so its hard."

Maeve's expression turned sympathetic as she reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's fine," Jake said with a shrug, trying to brush off the topic. "What about you? Do you have any hobbies outside of torturing your patients?"

She grinned crookedly at him before answering seriously. "I like hiking and exploring nature whenever I can. It helps me clear my head and recharge."

"That sounds nice," Jake said wistfully.

Maeve tilted her head curiously. "Have you ever been hiking?"

He shook his head with a small smile. "Nope, never had the time or opportunity with hockey and all."

"Well then, it looks like we have another goal for your recovery - get you hiking when you're better!" Maeve declared with excitement.

Jake chuckled at her enthusiasm but couldn't help feeling grateful for her support and encouragement.

“So I haven’t heard a*********s about your gymnastics career. Or am I the only one sharing her,” Jake joked but also slightly hoped that Maeve would use the opportunity to open up.

Maeve pondered his words for a moment before diving into a story that she will never forget from her career. "I remember this one competition when I was 16," Maeve began, as she helped Jake stretch out his injured leg. "I had been training so hard for it, and I was sure I was going to win. But during my floor routine, I stumbled on my second tumbling pass and ended up falling flat on my face."

Jake winced in sympathy. "That must have been tough."

"It was humiliating," Maeve admitted with a rueful smile. "But I refused to let it defeat me. I got back up and finished the routine with everything else I had. And you know what? Despite that fall, I still ended up winning the bronze medal."

Jake couldn't hide his admiration as he looked at Maeve in awe. "That's incredible."

"I learned early on that life is full of setbacks, but it's how you handle them that determines your success," Maeve said firmly, as she gently massaged Jake's calf muscle.

He nodded in understanding, thinking about all the hurdles he had faced in his own career- injuries, trades, and even backlash from fans and media.

"But sometimes it's hard not to get discouraged," Jake confessed quietly.

Maeve gave him a sympathetic look. "Trust me; I know that feeling all too well." She paused before continuing with a wistful smile. "But whenever things got tough or seemed impossible, I would think about the joy that gymnastics brought me - the feeling of flying through the air or nailing a difficult move perfectly - and suddenly everything felt worth it."

Maeve continued stretching Jakes leg. "Remember the first time you thought you could never get back on the ice?" she asked, her voice steady as she adjusted his brace.

"Yeah," he admitted, a distant look in his eyes. "I remember feeling like I'd lost everything."

"That's how I felt when I was injured in the car accident. But I realized that what I loved about sports wasn't just the competition—it was the sense of community and shared passion. That's why I became a therapist."

Her words hung in the air, and Jake felt a wave of empathy wash over him. "You really care about what you do, don't you?"

"It's everything to me," she said, her gaze unwavering. "And you should feel the same about your recovery."

He nodded, feeling the weight of her sincerity. As he pushed through the final exercises of the session, he noticed the way her brow furrowed in concentration and the slight way she bit her lip when she was focused. It was an intoxicating sight, one that sent a rush of heat through him.

"Alright, let's wrap this up," Maeve said, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. "You've done well today."

"Thanks," he replied, catching her gaze. The air between them thickened, charged with an electricity that had been building over the weeks. He could see the spark in her eyes, and suddenly, he found himself leaning closer, drawn in by an undeniable force.

"Maeve—" he began, but the words caught in his throat as their faces hovered inches apart.

"Jake—" she whispered, and just like that, time slowed. The world around them faded, leaving only the intensity of the moment.

But before they could close the distance, the sharp sound of the reception door swinging open jolted them apart. Martha, the clinic's receptionist, walked in, oblivious to the charged atmosphere. "Maeve! When you're done with your session, we still need the session notes from your previous patient this morning!"

Jake felt the heat rush to his cheeks, embarrassment flooding him as he shifted away. "Just perfect timing," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Maeve cleared her throat, "I'll be right there," she called out, her voice steadier than she felt. She turned back to Jake, her eyes searching his. "We'll pick up where we left off at the next session?"

"Yeah, definitely," he replied, still feeling the residual electricity between them.

As she hurried to the back office, Jake leaned back on the therapy table, a mix of frustration and longing swirling within him. They were walking a tightrope, the push and pull of their connection both exhilarating and maddening.

With every session, they edged closer to something real, something powerful. But the moment they had almost shared lingered in his mind, a tantalizing promise of what could be—if only they could navigate the complexities of their lives and the barriers they had built.