HANDS OFF CAPTAIN

chapter two

Chapter Two

Tessa's POV

I woke up the next morning with one clear thought.

Blake Callahan was not going to distract me today.

I repeated that to myself while brushing my teeth, while getting dressed, and while making breakfast. By the time I picked up my bag and headed out, I had convinced myself that the messages from last night meant absolutely nothing.

He was a flirt.

I was his physical therapist.

That was the beginning and end of it.

At least, that was what I intended to make it.

When I arrived at the Boston Falcons' training facility, the morning practice was already underway. I could hear the sharp scrape of skates against the ice and the players shouting to one another as I walked down the corridor toward the medical room.

I set my bag down, tied my hair back, and opened my schedule.

Blake was booked for a follow-up assessment before practice.

Of course he was.

I had barely finished checking his file when the door opened.

“Good morning, Monroe.”

I didn't look up.

“You're three minutes early.”

“I'm trying to impress you.”

“Try following your treatment plan instead.”

He closed the door behind him.

“Good morning to you too.”

I finally raised my eyes.

He wore a black training shirt and gray athletic pants, with his hair still slightly damp. His expression was relaxed, and he looked annoyingly pleased with himself.

I pointed toward the treatment table.

“Sit.”

He obeyed.

No argument. No dramatic sigh. Not even a joke.

I narrowed my eyes.

“Why are you behaving today?”

He placed a hand over his chest.

“Can't a man turn over a new leaf?”

“Not overnight.”

“That's hurtful.”

“Your shoulder is injured. Let's focus on that.”

I began the assessment, asking him about his pain and checking his range of motion. He answered honestly this time, although I caught him watching me more than once.

“Does it hurt when you lift your arm above your head?” I asked.

“A little.”

“Show me.”

He raised his arm carefully. I watched his movement, noting where he began to hesitate.

“Stop there.”

He lowered it.

“Worse than yesterday?” I asked.

“No.”

“Better?”

“About the same.”

I wrote down his response.

“We'll continue with the recommended treatment and review your progress with the medical team. No full-contact drills until you're cleared.”

He nodded.

“Understood.”

I looked up again.

“You're making this very difficult for me.”

His eyebrows rose.

“By following instructions?”

“By making me wonder whether you've been replaced by someone who looks exactly like you.”

He laughed.

“There she is.”

Ignore him.

I returned to my notes.

“Don't ruin your progress.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

I finished the assessment and explained the next steps. This time, he listened without trying to bargain his way back onto the ice.

When I put my clipboard down, he remained seated.

“Anything else?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I waited.

“About last night.”

My fingers stopped moving.

For a moment, I wondered whether he was talking about his injury. Then I remembered the messages.

“0You never answered my question.”

I kept my expression neutral.

“What about it?”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

“You never told me if you're seeing anyone.”

I stared at him.

“You came here for a shoulder assessment.”

“And I got one. Very professional, by the way.”

“Blake.”

“Tessa.”

The way he said my name made me look directly at him.

His teasing smile was still there, but he wasn't laughing.

I wasn't sure what to make of that.

“Why does it matter to you?” I asked.

He held my gaze for another second.

“Maybe I want to know.”

“Maybe you should stop asking questions that have nothing to do with your treatment.”

He sat back, and the smile returned.

“Fine. I'll behave.”

“That's the plan.”

He stood and reached for his water bottle.

At the door, he turned around.

“For the record, I don't usually have to work this hard to get a conversation.”

“Maybe you're finally meeting someone with standards.”

He laughed.

“See you later, Monroe.”

“Only if your shoulder cooperates.”

He left, and I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

I hated that he could make a simple conversation feel like a challenge.

I hated even more that part of me wanted to know whether he was genuinely interested or simply enjoying the fact that I wasn't falling for his charm.

I shook off the thought and returned to my work.

Whatever Blake wanted, I wasn't going to let it interfere with my job.

By midday, the facility was busier than usual.

The team had a game coming up, and everyone seemed determined to squeeze as much work as possible into the day. I moved between the treatment room and the training area, checking on players and updating their records.

Blake stayed off the ice for his full-contact drills, as instructed.

I noticed.

I wasn't going to praise him for doing what he was supposed to do, but I noticed.

When I passed the rink later that afternoon, I found him standing near the bench, watching his teammates practice. His helmet was tucked beneath one arm, and his attention was fixed on the ice.

For once, he wasn't performing for anyone.

He looked frustrated.

Not angry, exactly. Just restless, like a man who had been told to sit still while the rest of the world moved forward.

I understood that feeling more than I wanted to admit.And I new what it meant to want something badly enough that waiting felt unbearable.

But wanting to play didn't make his injury disappear.

I was about to continue down the corridor when he noticed me.

His face brightened.

“Monroe!”

I stopped.

“What?”

“Come here.”

“I'm working.”

“So am I. I'm observing.”

“Congratulations.”

He laughed and gestured toward the empty space beside him.

I should have kept walking.

Instead, I stepped closer to the boards.

“What do you want?”

He looked back at the ice.

“Tell me honestly. How long do you think I'll be out?”

“I can't give you a timeline before we have the results and assess how you respond to treatment.”

“That's the professional answer.”

“It's also the honest one.”

He nodded slowly.

Then he looked at me.

“And the answer you'd give me if I weren't your patient?”

I frowned.

“I'd tell you to stop trying to predict the future and let your shoulder heal.”

He laughed under his breath.

“You really don't know how to comfort someone.”

“Would you prefer that I lie?”

“No.”

His answer came so quickly that I paused.

He looked back at the rink.

“I'd rather know the truth.”

Something about the way he said it stayed with me.

For a few seconds, we stood side by side, watching the players move across the ice. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, and that surprised me more than anything he had said all morning.

Then Blake glanced at me.

“Are you always this serious?”

“Are you always this curious?”

“Only when someone interests me.”

My heart gave one stupid, inconvenient beat.

I turned toward him.

“Do you use that line on everyone?”

“No.”

I waited for the joke.

It didn't come immediately.

Then he smiled.

“Some people get a different one.”

I shook my head.

“You're impossible.”

“And yet, you're still standing here.”

I stepped away from the boards.

“Goodbye, Blake.”

“See you tomorrow, Tessa.”

I kept walking.

This time, I couldn't stop the smile that appeared on my face.

And that was precisely why I needed to be careful.

That Afternoon, I sat at my kitchen table with my laptop open and my dinner growing cold beside me.

I was supposed to be reviewing treatment notes.

Instead, I had read the same paragraph three times without taking in a single word.

My phone lay beside the laptop.

I told myself I wasn't waiting for a message.

Then the screen lit up.

Blake: Did you get home safely?

I stared at it.

It was such an ordinary question that I didn't know why it caught me off guard.

Me: Yes. And stop texting me.

His reply came a moment later.

Blake: Okay Good.

I waited knowing he will still reply.

No second message followed.

I frowned at my phone, annoyed with myself for expecting one.

Then I put it facedown and returned to my notes.

Five minutes later, I picked it up again.

Nothing.

I let out a quiet breath and set it down.

This was ridiculous.

I had known Blake for barely any time outside our professional interactions, and already I was allowing his attention to interfere with my concentration.

He was probably doing the same thing he always did,being charming because he liked making people respond to him.

I wasn't going to become another woman who mistook his attention for something meaningful.

I closed my laptop and carried my plate to the kitchen.

My phone buzzed again.

I glanced at the screen.

Blake: One more question.

I hesitated before replying.

Me: You ask too many questions.

Blake: You haven't answered this one either.

I leaned against the counter.

Me: What is it?

Three dots appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.

Finally, his message arrived.

Blake: If I asked you out when I'm no longer your patient, would you say yes?

I stopped moving.

I read the message once.

Then again.

For the first time since meeting Blake Callahan, I had no quick answer.

Because the truth was that I didn't know.

And the fact that I needed to think about it frightened me more than I wanted to admit.