Page 2 of The Other Side of Wild
I’m almost to his office when the locker room door swings open, and I’m knocked to the ground by the end of a hockey stick and the massive player it belongs to. “Watch where you’re going.” His voice is cold and rough, his eyes stay trained on the open door to the ice, and he doesn’t stop.
Not today, my dude, not today. “Pot meets kettle,” I growl right back. His head snaps to me down on the floor, stopping dead in his tracks, face softening like he’s just realizing he knocked someone over.
“Crap on a cracker. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” What in the mood swing is happening here?
I look at the undisturbed coffee cup in my hand, then stare up at the mountain of a man in front of me and say, “My coffee is safe, soI guess you are too.” A breathtaking smile breaks out across his face, and my heart skips a beat. “My butt might be numb for the foreseeable future, but yes, I am okay. Thank you for asking.”
He takes one of his gloves off and offers me his hand. “Greyson Wilder.” Wrapping my free hand in his, he pulls me off the floor with way more ease than I expected him to.
“Well, Greyson Wilder. I should find you a bell, so I’ll know to be more cautious next time.” He grimaces before nodding and walking away. The second his skate hit the ice, he’s flying. I’ve never seen someone skate that fast. I watch him for a minute before I start to feel like a creep. I bend down to pick up my iPad, send a silent thank you to the good Lord above for my coffee not spilling all over me, and continue toward the coach’s office, smiling to myself as I go. A bell, good one, Hannah.
I knock on the door frame of Coach Stevens' office. He raises his head and smiles. “Hey, Hannah, I heard through the grapevine that you’re on hockey duty for the rest of the season.”
“I sure am!” I say as I sit in the big leather chair in front of his desk. Crossing my legs, I smile at the older gentleman before me. Nodding, he smiles, making the creases around his light brown eyes more pronounced.
“If they give you too much trouble, you let me know. I know they’ll do anything to avoid the threat of burpees.” Yuck, I’m positive I, too, would do anything to avoid the threat of burpees.
“I’m sure it will be fine. It’ll be like a fun game of twenty-one questions.” This earns me a full belly laugh, one that warms my insides like hot chocolate on a snowy day or when you’re in an ice rink.
“Listen, Coach, you’re not exempt from my game either.”
His eyes widen before they narrow, his finger pointing in my direction. “Now, wait a minute...” I smirk at the fact that he’s now trying to get out of my interview. Men, they’re all the same. Tell you what you want to hear except when it comes to them.
“Coach, you told me to tell you if anyone was giving me trouble. I have a 6-foot-something grizzly trying to weasel his way out of this.” His only response was a shake of his head to try and hide the smile growing on his face
“Fine, fine. But I’m not answering twenty-one questions. I’ll give you four at most.” Ah, yes, this is going to be fun.
“Abby, you’re up! Question one: When did you know you wanted to be a physical therapist?”
“You already know the answer to that, Hannah. Couldn’t you have asked me these at home?” She asks with a sigh as she busies herself with reorganizing the resistance bands that I moved around her office the second I realized she was stretching a player out. They’re organized in order by resistance level. The long looped ones are on hooks, while the wide, long, open-ended ones are folded nicely on her counter. Her OCD and need for control are noticeable at home, but here? Forget it; she’s the world's worst helicopter mom and needs everything to stay in its place.
One hand runs along the edge of a framed skeleton poster she’s had since college. It hangs right next to one of the anatomy of a knee, and next to that is a photo of her classmates after they finished clinicals. My favorite part of her office, though, is the picture that sits on her desk. It was the first day we met in our dorm during our first year of college. I was terrified of having a nightmare random roommate situation. It turns out it was one of the best things that has happened to me. My eyes are closed, a tight smile on my face, dressed in an oversized sweatshirt. Abby is the sun reincarnated. Her light brown eyes were sparkling, her smile wide; she was wearing a yellow shirt with her favorite white shorts. It reminds me of the beginning of our friendship every time I see it.
“Yes, I could have, but this is for the official record.” Batting my eyelashes, I wiggle my pencil at her.
“I first knew I wanted to be a physical therapist when my older brother got hurt playing soccer. I wanted to take care of him, help him get back on the field.” She shrugs, and at the same time, she gives me a pointed look that gives me the impression I’m wasting her time.
“Question two: What is the funniest injury you’ve dealt with?” She thinks for a few seconds before she answers, hands flying like they do whenever she talks about something funny.
“Hands down, Quinten. He was a lacrosse player in college and decided he was going to ask one of the girls on the dance team to their banquet at the end of the season. He asked her teammates to teach him a dance to ask her. They taught him the Christmas dance from Mean Girls.” She smiles as she recalls the memory, picking up the updated charts from the counter as she continues.. “He ended up straining his hamstring in one of the moves he had to bend over for. It was hilarious. Although he complained about it for the two weeks we spent rehabbing it, she ended up saying yes, and they are now married. In the end, it all worked out.”
How cute. I’m a sucker for romantic gestures. “Question three: What’s your favorite part of working with the Hawks?”
“Oh, I like this one. The guys are all intensely focused when it comes to game time, but when they aren’t on the ice, it’s comedy gold here. They’re hilarious, always cracking jokes at each other’s expense, but at the end of the day, they’re one happy family. And they ensure all of us on staff feel like part of the team too.” I love that answer. Oh, to belong somewhere. Something I’ve never truly felt. At home, my mom and my brother had each other, and I was alone. Well, I had Dennis, but Dennis lived up to the menace part of the TV show.
Once I’m done interviewing the rest of the available staff, Abby and I sit in the stands and watch the guys run through their drills. It’s cool to get a different perspective than the fast pace of game day. Watching them pass the puck back and forth with insane precision, you can see just how talented they are. The way they communicate with just their body language and stick taps is a testament to the leadership of this team. There is no disconnect between the guys that were here last season and the four that joined this season. I watch as Greyson picks up a puck, brings it down the right side of the ice, and sinks it into the top left corner of the goal. It’s seamless.
“The guy that just scored, he’s new, right?” I ask as Abby watches for any sign that a player might be hiding an injury or downplaying the severity of an existing one. Her head on a constant swivel, she’s got the eye equivalent of a police K9’s nose.
“Who, Wilder?” I nod. “Yeah, he’s newer. He came mid-season last year. He hasn’t been in my office for anything but routineknee and hip checks. He has a good sense of humor; at least, I think he does from our few interactions. Why?” Her long blonde hair swishes against her Hawks team jacket as she narrows her eyes, probably noticing some kind of wince or hesitation.
“He knocked me over with his stick this morning, then had the audacity to tellmeto watch where I was going.” Abby cocks an eyebrow in my direction; the side of her mouth pulls into a smirk as she tries and epically fails to hide her amusement.
“Wow, what a way to start the day. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, no harm done.” I wave my hand dismissively through the cold air of the rink. I mean, my butt is still numb, but that could also be because it’s freezing down here. I can’t feel my toes at this point, either. Dang it, fuzzy socks, don’t fail me now!
“Hmm. Maybe he was having an off day. He’s a cutie, though.” I hum in response.