Protecting My Heart From The Jock

“You never f*****g learn, do you?” His hand was already around my wrist, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. The kitchen light was too bright. The plate I had just dropped was still in pieces on the floor between us. “I asked you a simple question,” he said, voice low and controlled in the way that always scared me more than shouting. “Who texted you?” “It was Maya.” My voice came out steady. I had practiced that. “She’s my best friend. You know that.” He laughed once, sharp and ugly. “Maya. Right.” Then he shoved me backward. My hip caught the edge of the counter. Pain shot up my side. Before I could catch my breath his hand was in my hair, yanking my head back so I had to look at him. “You think I’m stupid?” he asked. “You think I don’t see how you look at other men when we go out? You dress like that and then act surprised when I get angry.” I didn’t answer. I had learned that answers only made it worse. The first hit was open-handed across my face. The second was a closed fist that caught my mouth and split my lip. I tasted blood. My ears rang. Somewhere in the middle of it I heard myself say sorry, the same way I always did, like the word might still save me. It never did. I stayed on the floor after he walked away. I stayed while he slammed the bedroom door. I stayed while the apartment went quiet. And later, when he came back with ice and that soft, broken voice telling me he loved me and he didn’t mean it, I let him hold me. I let him press the ice to my face. I let myself believe that if I just tried harder he would stop and change. That was the part I hated most. Not the bruises. The fact that I had stayed. I'd learned something during those two miserable years of marriage. Men who wanted control didn't always announce themselves as monsters. Sometimes they brought you flowers. Sometimes they kissed your forehead. Sometimes they told you they loved you so much they couldn't imagine breathing without you. And sometimes, they smiled while they were breaking you. Now Eight months later, I am sitting in the staff parking lot of the Vancouver Vipers practice facility with my hands locked around the steering wheel and the taste of blood still ghosting across my tongue like it had never left. First day at work as a nutritionist in this hockey team. I forced myself out of the car before I could talk myself into driving away. The building was bigger than I expected. Cold air and the smell of ice hit me the second the automatic doors opened. A woman at the front desk gave me a visitor badge that already had my name on it—Sienna Vale-team nutritionist and pointed me toward the nutrition wing. I kept my eyes forward and my shoulders straight. Players moved past me in groups, loud and loose and too comfortable. I didn’t look at any of them long enough to register faces. Handsome men had stopped being background noise a long time ago. Now they were just warnings for me. My office was small and already stocked. I set my bag down, opened the laptop, and forced myself to start checking inventory lists like this was any other job. I had been inside for eleven minutes when the door opened without a knock. I turned as I recognized the person instantly. Kai Rivera. Maya's brother. A boy I'd once driven to his first NHL game because Maya had gotten sick and couldn't take him. The kid who used to steal food off my plate and then grin about it. Except he wasn’t a kid anymore. He was taller now, broader, with the kind of face that made people stare and the kind of posture that said he was used to it. He looked me over slowly, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Damn,” he said. “Maya wasn’t lying.” I kept my voice flat. “Can I help you?” He stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind him. “Kai Rivera. Just got called up. My sister said her best friend is the new nutritionist. Had to come see if it was actually true.” “It is. Congrats. You can leave now.” His eyebrows rose but the smile didn’t fade. “You’re even colder than she warned me about.” “I’m at work.” “And I’m on the roster.” He leaned a shoulder against the wall, completely at ease. “Figured we should get the weird part over with. You used to make me extra protein shakes when I was still in juniors. Remember that?” “I remember a lot of things.” I turned back to the laptop. “None of them matter here. You’re a player. I’m staff. We keep it professional. That’s the whole conversation.” He was quiet for a beat. I could feel him watching me but then he smiled. I hated that smile. Not because it was ugly. Unfortunately, Kai Rivera had never been burdened with that particular problem. Six-foot-four. Broad shoulders. The kind of body professional hockey players spent years destroying themselves in the gym to build, except Kai had apparently been handed his by whatever unfair deity was responsible for creating beautiful men with oversized egos. He was twenty-two now. A rookie phenom. The golden boy of the Vipers. And, unfortunately, my best friend's little brother. Which meant that no matter how tall he got, how much muscle he packed onto his frame, or how many women probably screamed his name from the stands, there was one word permanently stamped across his forehead in my mind. **Off-limits.** “You seem different,” he said. “People change.” “Not usually this hard.” His voice dropped. “Maya told me the divorce was ugly. Didn’t think it turned you into this.” I looked up slowly. “You don’t know anything about my divorce,” I said, each word precise. “And you don’t get to talk about it. You need something for training, you fill out the request form like everyone else. Outside of that, we don’t have anything to discuss. Clear?” Something shifted in his expression. The easy arrogance tightening into something sharper. He pushed off the wall and stood up straight. “Clear,” he said. “For now.” He walked to the door, then stopped with his hand on the handle. “Just so you know,” he added without looking back, “I don’t scare easily. And I don’t disappear just because someone uses their ice-queen voice on me.” Just as he opened the door. Cole Bennett the athletic trainer was standing right outside, tablet in hand, expression unreadable. His eyes moved from Kai to me and back again. “Everything okay in here?” Cole asked. “Fine,” I said at the same time Kai said, “Just introducing myself.” Kai gave Cole a short nod and walked past him without another word. Cole watched him go, then stepped into the office and closed the door quietly. “First day and the new kid is already testing boundaries,” he said. “You want me to say something to him?” “No.” I kept my eyes on the screen. “I’ve got it.” Cole studied me for a second longer than felt comfortable, then nodded once and left. I waited until the hallway was quiet before I let myself sit back in the chair. The rest of me felt like it was still back on that kitchen floor, tasting blood and listening to promises from my ex that never meant anything. I pulled out my phone and opened the thread with Maya. **Me:** Your brother just came by. He’s exactly as subtle as I remember. Her reply was almost instant. **Maya:** Oh god. Ignore him. He’s been impossible since the call-up. Proud of you bestie. First day. New start. You deserve this. I locked the phone and set it face-down. New start? I almost believed her.