Chapter 3: Pucks on Fire
970 Words
Jake limped into the therapy room the next week, the memory of his last session and impromptu run in at the bar with Maeve still fresh in his mind. He had left feeling sore, frustrated, and strangely exhilarated. Today, however, he was not in the mood for her relentless attitude. He plopped down on the therapy table, shooting her a sideways glance as she entered, clipboard in hand.
"Good morning, superstar," Maeve said, her tone light but laced with an edge. "Ready to face the music?"
"More like ready to face you," he retorted, crossing his arms defiantly.
She chuckled, unfazed. "We're going to work on your range of motion today. I hope you've been practicing those stretches I showed you."
"I've been practicing my eye-rolling," he shot back. "Does that count?"
"Only if you want to stay on the bench longer," she countered, walking over to him. "Now, let's see that knee."
He hesitated before reluctantly extending his right leg. Maeve knelt beside him, her fingers deftly probing the area around his injury. The eucalyptus oil sticking to her red scrubs today wafted toward him. The proximity sent an unexpected jolt through him, mixing irritation with something else he couldn't quite place.
"Hmm," she said, feigning deep concentration. "This doesn't look good. The left side of your knee is inflamed. You need at least a thousand more hours of my expert care."
"Great, just what I need. More of your 'expert' opinion," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Don't flatter yourself, Jake. I have other patients," she shot back, a smirk playing on her lips as she applied pressure to his knee. He winced, a sharp sting shooting through him.
"Easy on the pressure, Doc!" he protested, trying to pull away.
"Then don't be a baby," she replied, her eyes glinting with mischief. "You wanted a challenge, remember?"
"You know, if I wanted to be tortured, I would've just gone back to practice," he grumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Welcome to therapy, where we specialize in tough love," she teased, pushing his leg gently. She points to the sign hanging on the wall close by.
"Did I never go over the physical therapy rules of this clinic?" Jake scrunches up his face in confusion. He looks at the sign he has walked by before but never paid it any mind.
He reads out loud,"1. Never Say you Can't because we will make you do it anyway. 2. Never say, 'It's easy,' because we'll make it harder. 3. Never say, 'I want to go home,' because we will make you stay longer. 4. Never lose count because you'll start all over again." Jake snorts.
"Sounds like some sadist crap to me."
Maeve chuckles, "We are all sadists at heart here. Now, flex for me."
Jake complied but couldn't help shooting her a look. "You're lucky you're cute, otherwise I'd fire you."
"Oh, please. If you fired me, who would help you? You'd be a lost cause," she replied, a laugh escaping her lips. "And let's be honest, you like the attention."
"Attention? From you?" he feigned shock. "I think I'd rather be in the penalty box."
"Too bad; you're stuck with me," she said, her voice teasing yet firm as she continued her assessment. "Now, breathe and try not to grimace. You can do this."
He breathed deeply, focusing on the moment as Maeve's hands moved purposefully. He couldn't deny how her assertiveness ignited something in him—something he hadn't felt in a long time. Frustration mingled with an undeniable pull, and he found himself drawn to her fierce determination.
"You really are relentless," he said, breaking the silence as he shifted under her scrutiny.
"And you're good at avoiding the hard work," she shot back, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me, when was the last time you did something that didn't come easily?"
Jake paused, the question cutting deeper than he expected. "I don't back down from challenges."
"Really? Because it seems like you're backing down right now," she challenged, her tone lighter but her gaze serious. "You're scared, Jake. Scared of what you might find when you push yourself."
"Scared? Of what, exactly?" he shot back defensively, the tension crackling between them.
"Of needing help. Of admitting you're not invincible," she replied, her voice steady. "Everyone has weaknesses, even you."
Jake felt a flicker of vulnerability and quickly masked it with a sardonic grin. "Wow, you know how to make a guy feel special."
"I'm just stating facts, Mr. Hockey Star. It's not my fault if they sting a little," she quipped, pushing him to try a deeper stretch.
As they continued, the banter flowed like the ice beneath his skates, each sarcastic remark building a rhythm that highlighted their growing connection. Jake felt something shift in him, a mixture of admiration for her fierce dedication, frustration at being pushed so hard, and turned on by her beauty and quick wit.
"Alright, I'll admit it—you're kind of good at this," he conceded, finally relaxing into the stretch.
"Don't let it go to your head," Maeve replied with a grin, her eyes sparkling with challenge. "Just focus on getting better. The ice will still be there waiting for you."
The session ended with that, but the air was thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Jake left, the heat of their exchanges lingering in his mind, aware that Maeve was doing more than just helping him heal—she was cracking open a part of him he had long kept locked away.
As he walked out, he couldn't help but wonder if something more profound was beginning to bloom between them amidst all the conflict and sarcasm. He never did relationships, so deciphering all these new emotions was confusing.
- Writer
