Page 72 of Saddle Storm

I didn’t go in there to have a taste of her—hell, I’m not sure what I wanted—but when her curiosity and willingness was clear, there was no stopping me.

It’s been hell keeping my distance the past few days. Kept cursing myself for making the stupid promise.

But the effort was there. And I’ve done it long enough.

Besides. I just need a glimpse of her. That should be enough.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I slow my steps to answer. Harvey said he’d call Saturday morning when he had an update . . . and I’ve got one for him too.

“I’ll give you my news after you give me yours,” he starts. “How’s rehab going?”

“I prefer to call it physical therapy. Rehab makes it sound like I broke a leg or something.”

“Thorne, you want my news or not?”

“It’s good. Real good. Range is back. Strength is . . . getting there. I ditched the sling this week.”

“And the shoulder?”

“Stable. Arm feels . . . normal again.” For the most part.

“That your call or this Jenny you found out in the country?”

“Both,” I tell him. “Says if my progress keeps up, she’ll be ready to clear me for the ice in two weeks.”

He grumbles. “Here’s the thing, League’s not gonna just take your girl’s word for it. They’ll want you checked in-house. Doctors, strength tests . . . images.”

“You’re saying it like I’d bullshit you.”

“You’re not my first injured player, Silas.”

“I’ll be ready for any evaluation,” I say absently, watching a horse jump a low fence, and I immediately look for her nearby.

I spot Storm on the other side of the training ring, waving the horse back.

I missed his response but follow with the only thing I need to know. “When can I get on the ice?”

“Just get your ass back to the arena the second she clears you. Logistics move fast after that. Physicals and tests first, then monitored skate. Light. No contact.”

Then what the fuck’s the point?

“Figured as much.”

“The real test is going to be the stress test. Tire you out and test your reaction time.”

“Right . . .” Her hair is in a loose ponytail over one shoulder today. And she’s back in those tight jeans again. Though I much prefer her in that suede skirt. She’s fucking badass no matter what she wears.

“You still with me, Thorne?”

Hmm?

I clear my throat. “Yeah.”

“Bottom line. Don’t come back until you’re ready for all that. I’d rather you take an extra week or two instead of them keeping you out for the season.”

My stomach drops at the thought. Extra week it is.

Though I could think of other ways to test my arm’s strength. Storm beneath me . . . Holding her up against a wall.