Reaching over, she squeezed his arm with a grin pulling at her lips. “Thanks, Liam.” She then looked over at Kacey and her brow rose. A slow, Cheshire cat grin covered her lips and she asked, “Hey, Liam, have you met my sister-in-law Kacey yet? You know, she is the new athletic trainer for the Assassins and also a gold medalist.”
God bless her. Free babysitting was in Lacey’s future, anytime she needed it.
Liam’s eyes then moved over to Kacey, and an appreciative grin came over his face. Oh, yes, nice smile.
“Kace, this is Liam, he plays for the Assassins.”
“Wow, hey, Liam Kelly,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. They shook slowly, their eyes locked.
“Kacey King.”
He grinned sheepishly, almost in a boy next door way, and it hit Kacey square in the gut. “Wow, you are like King’s twin. Way prettier, of course.”
She got that all the time and wasn’t offended. The way he said it too made her belly warm with desire. He had a sexy voice, low, but still not raunchy the way she had come to love. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who would flip her upside down and eat her out, but he did look like the kind of guy who wanted a wife and family. And since that’s what she wanted, she smiled sweetly at him, batting her eyes as Lacey grinned. He seemed like a clean-cut, stand-up guy, maybe not the type she usually went for—but the type she had been going for had been screwing her over lately. Plus, he played hockey and that was a win in her book. No ring and he wasn’t glued to his phone yet—while most guys would have put the cases down and pulled it right out—and he had great eye contact.
Hmm. He could be the one.
“Jordie, how are you feeling?”
Looking up from where he was staring at the crack in the floor, Jordie’s brow rose. His stance probably told the poor little mousy therapist, whose name he still didn’t know, that he was bored. That he hated this place with all the passion in his soul. That he would rather be face first in a beehive but, yet, she was still grinning at him. He leaned back in his chair, one leg up on the rung of the chair beside him while the other hung to the side. His arms were across his chest in a very aggressive pose and he was working his lip, praying for the time to pass. It was easy to say that rehab blew big donkey dick and Jordie was ready for it to be over.
But in case she didn’t know that, he figured he better remind her.
“Feel great. I hate this place and I’m ready to go.”
A few people nodded in agreement. It was mostly men, fellow athletes who were too far gone and needing to clean up. Jordie was nothing like these guys and didn’t understand why he was in here with pill poppers and true alcoholics.
“We still have about an hour left.”
“Yeah, I know, but I mean out of this place.”
Her brows came in. She was a cute little thing, nice legs and okay tits. She had sweet little green eyes though and a small little mouth that resulted in a small little meditative voice. “You have forty-five days left, Jordie.”
“Don’t remind me,” he groaned, leaning back and letting his head drop.
“In the forty-five days we’ve been together, you have shared absolutely nothing with me and nothing with the other therapist before me at your group meetings.”
“Because there isn’t anything to share.”
“Sure, there is. You’re an alcoholic.”
“No, I like to drink,” he said, still with his head hanging. “That doesn’t constitute an alcoholic.”
“It does when you drink to not feel something.”
He glared. “I mean, what’s the point of drinking if it’s not to forget? Everyone does it.”
“In moderation. Before you entered here, you’d gone to PT drunk five out of the six sessions, according to your physical therapist. And you also went drunk to your group meetings that were planned while we waited for a spot to open up here.”
He shrugged. “Hey, those are good odds in my opinion. And plus, they all drove me to drinking because I hate them so much.”
She tsked while a few of the guys laughed. “You shouldn’t be going drunk at all.”
“Sure, and I won’t ever again,” he said, sitting up then. “Now, can I leave?”
Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. “The answer is still no.”
“There isn’t anything for me here. This place isn’t going to magically fix me. I’m not going to be ready for a sober life once I leave. I’m good. I don’t want to talk, I don’t even want to drink anymore, so maybe it has worked. I don’t fucking know. I just want to play hockey and be out of here.”
“There is a lot wrong with you,” she countered without missing a beat.
Jordie scoffed, rolling his eyes before setting her with a dark, challenging look. The whole time he had been here, she had hounded him for information, trying to get him to open up about shit he didn’t even want to speak about. He was good having all his past secrets deep inside him. And plus, they had nothing to do with the fact that he liked to drink. He drank because it numbed the pain.
The pain of his career hanging in the balance.
The pain of not knowing the future.
Most of all, the pain of letting Kacey go.
Therapist Lady knew none of this. She knew nothing, only what was on paper. And he didn’t think it was any of her business about anything else. She wanted to know about his past? Read his file and leave him the fuck alone, was his opinion.
God bless her. Free babysitting was in Lacey’s future, anytime she needed it.
Liam’s eyes then moved over to Kacey, and an appreciative grin came over his face. Oh, yes, nice smile.
“Kace, this is Liam, he plays for the Assassins.”
“Wow, hey, Liam Kelly,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. They shook slowly, their eyes locked.
“Kacey King.”
He grinned sheepishly, almost in a boy next door way, and it hit Kacey square in the gut. “Wow, you are like King’s twin. Way prettier, of course.”
She got that all the time and wasn’t offended. The way he said it too made her belly warm with desire. He had a sexy voice, low, but still not raunchy the way she had come to love. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who would flip her upside down and eat her out, but he did look like the kind of guy who wanted a wife and family. And since that’s what she wanted, she smiled sweetly at him, batting her eyes as Lacey grinned. He seemed like a clean-cut, stand-up guy, maybe not the type she usually went for—but the type she had been going for had been screwing her over lately. Plus, he played hockey and that was a win in her book. No ring and he wasn’t glued to his phone yet—while most guys would have put the cases down and pulled it right out—and he had great eye contact.
Hmm. He could be the one.
“Jordie, how are you feeling?”
Looking up from where he was staring at the crack in the floor, Jordie’s brow rose. His stance probably told the poor little mousy therapist, whose name he still didn’t know, that he was bored. That he hated this place with all the passion in his soul. That he would rather be face first in a beehive but, yet, she was still grinning at him. He leaned back in his chair, one leg up on the rung of the chair beside him while the other hung to the side. His arms were across his chest in a very aggressive pose and he was working his lip, praying for the time to pass. It was easy to say that rehab blew big donkey dick and Jordie was ready for it to be over.
But in case she didn’t know that, he figured he better remind her.
“Feel great. I hate this place and I’m ready to go.”
A few people nodded in agreement. It was mostly men, fellow athletes who were too far gone and needing to clean up. Jordie was nothing like these guys and didn’t understand why he was in here with pill poppers and true alcoholics.
“We still have about an hour left.”
“Yeah, I know, but I mean out of this place.”
Her brows came in. She was a cute little thing, nice legs and okay tits. She had sweet little green eyes though and a small little mouth that resulted in a small little meditative voice. “You have forty-five days left, Jordie.”
“Don’t remind me,” he groaned, leaning back and letting his head drop.
“In the forty-five days we’ve been together, you have shared absolutely nothing with me and nothing with the other therapist before me at your group meetings.”
“Because there isn’t anything to share.”
“Sure, there is. You’re an alcoholic.”
“No, I like to drink,” he said, still with his head hanging. “That doesn’t constitute an alcoholic.”
“It does when you drink to not feel something.”
He glared. “I mean, what’s the point of drinking if it’s not to forget? Everyone does it.”
“In moderation. Before you entered here, you’d gone to PT drunk five out of the six sessions, according to your physical therapist. And you also went drunk to your group meetings that were planned while we waited for a spot to open up here.”
He shrugged. “Hey, those are good odds in my opinion. And plus, they all drove me to drinking because I hate them so much.”
She tsked while a few of the guys laughed. “You shouldn’t be going drunk at all.”
“Sure, and I won’t ever again,” he said, sitting up then. “Now, can I leave?”
Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. “The answer is still no.”
“There isn’t anything for me here. This place isn’t going to magically fix me. I’m not going to be ready for a sober life once I leave. I’m good. I don’t want to talk, I don’t even want to drink anymore, so maybe it has worked. I don’t fucking know. I just want to play hockey and be out of here.”
“There is a lot wrong with you,” she countered without missing a beat.
Jordie scoffed, rolling his eyes before setting her with a dark, challenging look. The whole time he had been here, she had hounded him for information, trying to get him to open up about shit he didn’t even want to speak about. He was good having all his past secrets deep inside him. And plus, they had nothing to do with the fact that he liked to drink. He drank because it numbed the pain.
The pain of his career hanging in the balance.
The pain of not knowing the future.
Most of all, the pain of letting Kacey go.
Therapist Lady knew none of this. She knew nothing, only what was on paper. And he didn’t think it was any of her business about anything else. She wanted to know about his past? Read his file and leave him the fuck alone, was his opinion.
