Page 40 of Set Play

Reya:

Gracie!? Hell yes! I knew u 2 would hit it off!

Niamh:

Love this already! Hi Gracie, I'm Niamh (Neev). Can't wait for girls' night!

You changed the name of the chat to: Red Card Squad

Gracie:

Oh, come on! We can def do better than that.

Reya changed the name of the chat to: Gossip Goal

Gracie:

Lmao! perf! love it.

Me:

Okay, you win. That one is definitely better.

Chapter 20

Élise

I’m so glad this job keeps me busy because it means I have a valid excuse to avoid Mateo after the locker room last week.

“Okay Johansen, be sure to ice that shoulder tonight. Remember, twenty minutes on. Twenty minutes off. If it’s still bothering you before practice tomorrow, I’ll have Gracie alter your workouts to incorporate some physical therapy exercises. We shouldn’t need to do an injection unless it bothers you before or during a game. No heavy lifting if you can avoid it, okay?”

“You got it, Cadet,” Soren replies, giving me a cheeky salute before hopping off the exam table. “I’ll check in with you as soon as I arrive tomorrow.”

I shake my head at the ridiculous nickname some of the players have decided to adopt. Okay, so it’s a tiny bit clever.

Since Sarge is the head doctor and distinctly military sounding, they dubbed me, Cadet. “Goodnight, Johansen,” I shout to the giant’s back as he strides out of the room.

A quick glance at the clock tells me I have about fifteen minutes before I can head out, so I wipe down the table and finish organizing my notes from today’s visits. The sound of shuffling feet brings my eyes to the doorway just in time for a familiar tattoo sleeve to appear. Shit!

Wait, that’s the wrong arm…

“Lukas?” I ask, surprised to see him limping toward me.

“Hey avispa. I kinda rolled my ankle or something right at the end of practice. It’s taken me this long to get through showering and everything. I know you’re supposed to leave soon, but do you mind seeing one more player?”

“Of course not! Sit, please. Take off the shoe on that foot so I have better access to your ankle.” I leave him to that while I grab the things I think might come in handy for this particular case: gloves, because I am not touching his foot without them, an ACE wrap, ibuprofen, and exercise bands.

By the time I turn around, Lukas is up on the exam table. Except the little shit isn’t sitting like I asked him to, he’s laid out in the Burt Reynolds pose. I set my hands on my hips, unimpressed.

“That’s weird, I don’t remember ordering the wish dot com version of the nineteen seventy-two Cosmo magazine.”

“How dare you?” Lukas gasps, “I happen to be the upgraded version, thank you very much. Or are you just hating because I don’t have blue eyes?” Thankfully he sits up, sticking out the injured limb for inspection.

I sit on the rolling stool and move in front of him. “I would’ve thought my speech about respecting the medical staff would have stuck in your thick skull, but evidently not,” I grumble as I start palpating around his ankle, checking for tenderness per the Ottawa Ankle Rules.

“I’m going to squeeze your ankle in a few different places. Let me know if it hurts, okay?”

He nods but doesn’t signal any pain or discomfort through the test, making me comfortable enough to rule out the need for x-rays.