Penalty Box Hearts

That's How It Starts

''You went somewhere earlier, where did you go?'' Ronan asked as he watched my face with a little more attention than necessary.

''I didn't go anywhere. Finish your stretches.'' Before he could insist on an answer, I stepped back from him. The truth was just too complicated for the training room, and no matter how deeply he looked at me, I was not about to hand it to a man I had known for merely five days.

There was a game on Thursday, and the Ironclads won 4--2. Ronan scored the third goal, using a shoulder that should naturally not allow him to lift his arm over his ear.

I was watching him from the tunnel with my arms crossed, and my stomach in knots. When he skated past the bench afterward, he found my eyes amidst the crowd and flashed a handsome grin at me.

It was as if I was the reason he was there, playing while injured.

But I knew better that it was not the case. Ronan was just a professional athlete doing his job, and I was reading things with just a look, since it had been a long time since someone looked at me like that.

However, I found myself smiling back at him before I could stop it.

A voice beside me said,''that's just a bad idea.''

When I turned around, I saw Priya Nair watching me with knowing eyes. She was the team's equipment manager.

''Whatever that was, just so you know...''

''It was nothing,'' I replied.

''Sure.'' Priya was obviously not convinced.

''I must say anyway, that he does not usually look at anyone like that. Not since...'' She was saying something, but she stopped herself and shook her head.

''That's none of my business, but be careful, okay? He is not as tough as he plays.''

''I'm not his girlfriend...'' I said. ''I'm his therapist.''

Priya smiled with a hint of sadness on her face and said, ''I know. That's usually how it starts.''

That night, while I was alone in my apartment, I had barely finished unpacking. I took out my phone and looked for, for the first time in so many months, a photo that I should have deleted a long time ago.

Different cities, different jerseys, but the same confident smile that had made me believe things I had to force myself not to believe.

Now, I deleted them finally and with decisiveness. It felt more like a form of armor than being completely healed.

I reminded myself of rule number 2. I set the phone face down on the counter and told myself, 'don't fall for a hockey player.'

I thought about Ronan's laugh, the way he always appeared surprised and how warm his hand felt when being held a bit too long.

I was already breaking my own rule without knowing the moment it happened.

I was learning that the trouble with rules was that when it was still in theory, it was perfect and worked fine, but as soon as a six-foot hockey captain who continued to linger around me was in front of me, the rules completely fell apart.

On Monday, Ronan said to me, ''My shoulder is fine.'' It was a lie, trust me, because I could see the way he was carefully favoring that shoulder while he spoke.

''Get on the table.''

''So bossy.''

I refused, ''no, effective.''

I waited until he had taken off his jersey and settled in. Then I pressed a finger into the joint before he started to argue.

Instantly, he became quiet and caught his breath.

I tried as much as I could to make sure not to notice the way his stomach tightened, or the fact that I now knew the geography of his shoulder better than I knew my apartment.

After a while, he said to me, ''can I ask you something?''

His voice was much quieter than his usual arena voice.

''It depends...'' I replied.

''Your former team, why did you leave?''

My chest instantly became still even though my hands didn't stop moving. Then I bluntly replied, ''the contract ended.''

''Yes, that's the answer for the file. I want the real answer.''

I could have deflected. After all, I was good at it. It was practically a job requirement. But immersed in the quiet of the training room, and the low hum of the ice-cream machine and the way he was looking at me carefully without pushing, it made me say the truth anyway.

''I dated a player...'' I started to explain. ''He was in a different team, that was two years ago. It didn't end up well. He was not...''

I stopped to choose my words carefully.

''He lied about a lot of things. I would find out about so many things on the same day the entire arena did. It was kind of humiliating.

I don't recommend.''

For a moment, Ronan didn't say anything. Then, after a while, he quietly said, ''Is that why you have rules against a guy like me?''

''Who told you I have rules?'' I asked.

''Callahan...'' He spoke my name with a gentle voice that I had never heard from him yet. There was no iota of performance in his voice at all as he said, ''you've got rules.''

''Maybe...'' I replied.

Ronan looked at me and said, ''for what it's worth, I am not him. Whoever he was.''

''Yea right. That's what everyone says before they turn out to be exactly like him or worse.''

''Okay then, instead of saying it, I'll just have to prove it.'' He held my hand that was resting on his shoulder. He didn't pull it, he just held it. His thumb brushed over my knuckle once, as if he was trying to memorize the shape.

''Is that also against the rules?''

My pulse started to drum, wildly unprofessional. ''Voss...''

''Ronan...'' he corrected me softly. ''I'd like that when it's just us.''

''Well, I think that's a bad idea.''

He agreed. ''Probably.'' But he did not let go of my hand.

''Most good things start like that.''