CHAPTER 3: First Day First Mistake
1195 Words
Zarela arrived at The Den forty minutes early on purpose. She wanted every advantage she could get on her first official day.
The professional blazer felt crisp and sharp against her skin. Dark pants. Polished shoes. Simple but confident. She carried a large coffee in one hand and a carefully organized folder in the other. Inside that folder were detailed intake plans for the three players assigned to her rehab roster. She had spent hours the night before refining every note, every goal, every measurable target.
This morning mattered.
Marcus, the head athletic trainer, met her right at the staff entrance with a genuine smile that helped ease some of the nerves twisting in her stomach.
Zarela Cyril, he said warmly. Welcome to the Wolves. We are really glad to have you on board. Come on. Let me give you the full tour before things get busy.
They started walking through the facility. The hallways smelled like fresh ice and cleaning solution. Everything looked state of the art. Treatment rooms with brand new equipment. Recovery areas with advanced therapy tools. Weight rooms that stretched on forever.
Marcus explained protocols as they moved. He introduced her to several support staff members along the way. Everyone offered friendly nods and quick welcomes.
Zarela took careful notes on her tablet while they walked. She asked intelligent questions about workflow and communication between departments. She smiled at the right times. Stayed professional. Kept her voice steady. Everything felt like it was going smoothly.
She was handling this.
The tour continued through the main corridors. They passed the locker room area and the media wing. Marcus kept up an easy conversation about the upcoming training camp and how the medical staff supported the players through the long season. Zarela listened closely. She wanted to absorb every detail. This was her domain now. Her chance to prove she belonged here without any outside help.
Then they rounded the corner near the ice rink access corridor.
Everything changed in a single heartbeat.
Zarela nearly collided with a tall, broad figure coming from the opposite direction. Her coffee tilted dangerously in her grip. She caught it at the last second, hot liquid sloshing but not spilling. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
It was Dave.
Dave Rhyse stood right there. Inches away. Close enough that she could see the faint shadow of stubble on his jaw and smell the clean combination of soap and fresh ice that clung to him. His eyes locked onto hers immediately. For one endless second the entire world narrowed to just the two of them standing in that hallway.
Zarela.
He said her name quietly. Low. Rough around the edges. Like it slipped out before he could stop it.
The sound of it hit her harder than she expected.
Rhyse, she answered. Her voice came out cool and professional. A wall going up instantly between them.
The air felt thick. Awkward. Charged with years of unsaid history and careful distance. Marcus glanced between them with mild curiosity but clearly did not pick up on the tension.
You two have already met? Marcus asked.
Not really, Dave said at the same moment Zarela answered, Briefly. Years ago.
They managed four sentences total. Nothing more.
Welcome to the team, Dave told her. His expression stayed controlled but his eyes held something deeper. Something she refused to examine.
Thank you, she replied. I look forward to contributing and supporting the players.
That was it.
They stepped aside. He continued down the hallway one direction. She went the opposite way with Marcus. Her legs felt unsteady but she kept walking. Kept her posture straight. Kept breathing.
When they finally reached the rehabilitation office assigned to her, Zarela excused herself politely from the rest of the tour. She stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and locked it with a quiet click.
She set her coffee down on the desk with hands that were now visibly shaking. Then she dropped into the chair and sat there for a full sixty seconds. Just breathing. Just trying to get her pulse back under control. Just trying to convince herself that the brief hallway encounter had not rattled her as much as it had.
He looked the same.
Somehow he looked even more like the man she remembered. Taller in the confined space of the corridor. Broader shoulders carrying the weight of captaincy. Those intense eyes that had always seen too much. The years had only sharpened him. Made him quieter. More commanding.
Zarela pressed her palms flat against the desk and closed her eyes.
This was her first day. Her fresh start. She had worked too hard and moved too far to let one accidental meeting derail her.
She opened her eyes, pulled her tablet closer, and opened the main rehab intake folder. The players on her roster needed her full attention. She had actual work to do. Important work.
Her fingers moved across the screen almost on autopilot. She started a blank page for additional personal notes. Then without thinking she typed his name at the very top.
Dave Rhyse.
The letters stared back at her. Bold. Unwanted.
She crossed them out with several harsh strokes. Then she deleted the entire line completely.
He was not on her roster. He would never be on her roster if she had any say in it. She had double checked the assignments. Triple checked. He belonged to another therapist on the team. That was final. That was safe.
She needed to remember that.
Zarela leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. The office felt quiet around her. Professional. Hers. But her mind kept drifting back to that corridor. To the way he had said her name. To the way the space between them had crackled with everything they were not allowed to acknowledge. To the way her body had reacted even after all these years.
First day. First mistake.
She had let herself feel something in that hallway. A flicker of the old crush. A rush of old hurt. A dangerous warmth she had no business feeling.
She would not let it happen again.
Zarela finished the rest of her coffee in one long swallow. She stood up, straightened her blazer, and checked her reflection quickly in the small mirror near the door. Professional. Calm. Completely in control. That was the version of herself she needed to show the world.
Especially here.
Especially now.
She opened the office door and stepped back into the hallway. The facility buzzed with morning activity around her. Players moving toward the ice. Staff hurrying between rooms. The distant sound of skates and voices.
This was her job. Her career. Her carefully built life.
Dave Rhyse was simply the captain of the team. Nothing more. Nothing she could afford to let matter.
She had to make this work.
No matter how hard her heart still pounded from that single brief collision.
No matter how loudly the past tried to whisper his name.
Zarela lifted her chin and walked forward into the rest of her first day.
She had survived worse.
She would survive this too.
- Writer
