Chapter 5
1231 Words
Riley POV
I barely slept a wink.
All night long, my mind kept replaying every single second of that kiss in the training room. The way Jax had pinned me against the wall, his strong body pressing into mine, the desperate hunger in his mouth, and how his hand had slipped under my shirt like he couldn’t get close enough. The raw pain in his voice when he talked about his brother still echoed in my head. I tossed and turned for hours, my body hot and restless, until I finally gave up around 5 AM and just stared at the ceiling.
By the time morning came, I felt exhausted and completely on edge. I stood in front of the mirror in my small apartment, staring at my reflection as I pulled my hair into a tight, professional ponytail. My lips still felt a little sensitive. I touched them lightly, then yanked my hand away like it burned.
Get it together, Riley. It was one mistake. I muttered to myself.
I adjusted my navy Blizzard polo shirt and smoothed it down over my jeans. Today had to be different. I was going to avoid Jax at all costs. No more private sessions if I could help it. No more lingering touches. No more late-night moments that made me forget why this was a terrible idea. My dad’s warning from the first day rang louder than ever.
I grabbed my bag, took a deep breath, and headed to the arena, determined to keep things strictly professional.
But from the moment I stepped inside the building, Jax seemed to be everywhere.
I tried to head straight to the training room, but the distant sound of skates cutting across the ice and bodies slamming into the boards pulled me in. Morning practice was in full swing. I told myself I was only going to observe for a few minutes — purely for work, to note how the players were moving so I could adjust rehab plans. That was it. Nothing more.
I slipped quietly into an empty seat about eight rows up from the ice and watched.
Jax dominated everything.
He was a force on the ice. During a fast-paced drill, he read the play like it was written in front of him. When one of the forwards tried to drive toward the net, Jax exploded forward with powerful strides and delivered a massive, clean hit that sent the guy spinning into the boards. The loud crash echoed through the nearly empty arena. Jax recovered the puck instantly and fired a perfect, hard pass up the ice to a teammate. Even with his shoulder issue, his power and intensity were undeniable. Every movement was aggressive but controlled. Strong. Commanding.
“The Wall,” I whispered under my breath, unable to look away.
Sweat glistened on his skin under the bright arena lights. His practice jersey clung to his broad shoulders and back as he skated hard, barking instructions at the younger guys. The way his muscles flexed with every powerful stride made my stomach tighten with heat I desperately didn’t want to feel. Memories from last night flooded back without warning — his mouth claiming mine, his thigh pressing between my legs, the low groan he made when I tugged his hair.
I pressed my thighs together and looked down at my notebook, cheeks burning. Stop it.
“Riley.”
My dad’s voice startled me. He was standing in the aisle a few seats away, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with that sharp, all-knowing coach expression.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, trying to sound casual as I closed my notebook. “I was just taking some notes on player movement. For rehab planning.”
He didn’t buy it for a second. He walked over and sat down beside me, his eyes fixed on the ice where Jax was now leading a defensive drill, shouting directions at the defense line.
“You were staring,” he said quietly, his tone serious but not angry. “At Callahan.”
“I wasn’t—” I started, but he gave me that look. The one that always made me feel like I was fifteen again.
“Riley,” he continued, lowering his voice even more. “I saw how you were looking at him just now. I warned you on your first day. Players are completely off-limits. Especially him. Jax has too much baggage, too many distractions, and way too much pressure on him right now with the playoffs coming up. You’re here to do your job, which is to help these guys recover and stay healthy. That’s it. I don’t want to see you get hurt… or have to make difficult decisions about your position on this staff.”
His words landed heavy in my chest. I swallowed hard and nodded. “I know, Dad. It’s nothing. Really. I was just… observing.”
He studied my face for a long moment, searching for the truth. Finally, he squeezed my shoulder. “Good. Keep it that way. I mean it, kiddo.”
Dad stood up and walked back toward the bench area. I let out a shaky breath, my heart twisting. He was right. Last night was a stupid, impulsive mistake. I couldn’t let it happen again. Not ever.
I stood up, determined to go hide in the training room and drown myself in paperwork, when movement near the players' tunnel caught my attention.
A woman had just walked confidently onto the edge of the ice area, like she belonged there. Tall and striking, with long red hair and a stylish outfit that looked more suited for a press conference than an early morning practice. She held up a press pass. Briar Lennox.
My stomach dropped like a stone.
She spotted Jax right away and waved him over with a bright smile. He skated to the boards, helmet off, hair messy with sweat. Briar leaned in close, laughing at something he said, and placed her hand on his arm in a way that looked far too familiar. Jax didn’t pull away. He actually smiled back — that same half-smirk I’d seen up close — and said something that made her laugh even louder and lean in closer, almost touching his chest.
They looked comfortable. Natural. Like this wasn’t the first time she’d shown up like this during practice.
A sharp, painful stab of jealousy hit me straight in the chest. I hated how it felt. I had no right to feel jealous, especially after deciding last night was a mistake. But seeing her touch him so easily, seeing him smile at her like that… it hurt more than I wanted to admit.
Of course he has someone like her.
She was beautiful, confident, and clearly part of his world. I was just the new physical therapist. The coach’s daughter who had crossed a line once in a weak moment.
I turned away quickly, blinking back the stupid sting in my eyes. This was exactly why I needed to end whatever this was before it started. Jax was a player. Women like Briar threw themselves at him constantly. I refused to be another name on that list.
I walked fast toward the training room, my chest tight.
Whatever almost-started between Jax and me?
It was over.
I was shutting it down. Completely. Starting right now.
- Writer
