003

Nathaniel’s Pov

I have been hit by two-hundred-pound defenders on the ice and walked away without a single scratch, but a five-foot-five girl in blue medical scrubs managed to knock the breath right out of me without even touching me.

I stood in the center of the fancy hotel ballroom, holding a drink I didn't care about, while Victoria chatted happily about some upcoming marketing event. I wasn't really listening to her. My eyes kept tracing the crowd, looking for the girl with the neat ponytail and the dark brown eyes that looked at me like I was a broken toaster instead of the captain of a professional hockey team.

"She's completely unimpressed by you, you know," Victoria whispered with a soft laugh, resting her manicured hand on my suit sleeve. "I don't think she even knows who you are, Nate."

"She knows," I muttered, taking a sip of my water. "She just doesn't care. And her name is Chloe."

"Right, Chloe," Victoria said, rolling her eyes in amusement. "Well, she certainly doesn't care about your money or your fame. You look like a lost puppy following her around."

I pulled my arm away gently, fixing my jacket. "I don't follow anyone around, Victoria. She's just doing her job, and I'm just making sure my team gets the best medical care."

I told myself that was the absolute truth. I was the captain. It was my responsibility to make sure our physical therapy was top notch. It had nothing to do with the way Chloe stood her ground when I tried to intimidate her. It had nothing to do with the brief, fragile shadow of sadness I had seen in her eyes right before she closed herself off again.

The next morning at six o'clock practice, my brain was a complete disaster.

The ice was fresh and cold, the sharp smell of the arena filling my lungs, but every time I skated down the rink, I couldn't focus. I missed two simple passes during our morning drills, my left hamstring pulling tight with a sharp, burning pinch that made me grit my teeth.

"Hey, Cap!" Marcus Cole shouted, sliding to a stop beside me and spraying white ice shavings over my skates. "Where's your head at today? The puck went left, and you skated right. You look like you're dreaming about fairy tales."

"Shut up, Marcus," I growled, resting my hands on my knees while gasping for air. "My leg is just a little tight. I'm fine."

Marcus smirked, leaning heavily on his hockey stick. "Right. Your leg is tight. That's why you've mentioned the new physical therapy student three times since we got on the ice. What was her name again? Chloe?"

"I mentioned her because she knows her stuff," I snapped, straightening my back and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my thigh. "She's difficult, she's bossy, and she has zero respect for authority."

"And you're totally obsessed," Marcus laughed, clapping his thick padded glove onto my shoulder. "Nate, you haven't talked about a girl this much since high school. Usually, if a girl doesn't laugh at your jokes, you walk away. But this one yells at you, and suddenly you want to buy her a house."

"I am not obsessed!" I shouted, pushing his glove off my shoulder.

To prove him wrong, I dug my skates into the ice and took off down the rink at full speed. I wanted to show my team—and myself—that I was still the fastest, strongest guy in the league. But as I rounded the sharp curve near the net, a sudden, blinding spike of pain shot straight up my left leg. My knee buckled, and I went crashing hard into the padded wall boards, hitting the ice with a heavy, painful thud.

The entire team froze.

"Nate!" Marcus yelled, skating over quickly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" I yelled through clenched teeth, pushing myself up before anyone could offer a hand. I forced myself to walk off the ice without limping, but deep down, I was terrified. The championship season was starting in less than a month. If my body gave out on me now, I was done.

An hour later, I was sitting back on the high treatment table at the rehabilitation centre, staring at the floor with my hands clutched tightly in my lap.

The door clicked open, and Chloe walked in carrying a cold gel pack and a clipboard. She didn't look happy. In fact, she looked like she wanted to beat me over the head with her clipboard.

"You're limping," she said immediately, stopping right in front of me and crossing her arms. "You went to practice and you pushed it too hard, didn't you?"

"It was just a light skate," I lied, trying to smile my usual charming smile. "Nothing a little ice can't fix, doc."

Chloe didn't smile back. Her dark eyes glared into mine with fierce frustration. "Stop lying to me, Nathaniel! You pushed yourself because your massive ego couldn't handle taking a few days off. If you pull this muscle completely, you are going to ruin your entire career. Is that what you want?"

I felt a sudden rush of heat hit my face. "I am the captain of this team, Chloe! Do you have any idea how many people are relying on me? If I sit on the bench, the sponsors leave, the fans get angry, and the team loses its mind. I can't just take a break!"

"Then stop acting like you're made of steel!" she shouted right back, her voice ringing clearly against the tiled walls. "Being afraid of failing doesn't make you weak, Nathaniel! But pretending you're invincible is going to cost you everything you care about!"

The room went dead silent.

I stared at her, my mouth slightly open. Nobody talked to me like that. My family expected perfection. My coach expected victories. My friends expected me to be the rich, cool captain who had everything under control. But Chloe... Chloe just wanted me to be real. She wasn't asking for my money, or my fame, or a free ticket to a game. She just wanted me to stop hurting myself.

"I can't lose my spot," I whispered quietly, looking down at my calloused hands. The anger completely drained out of my body, leaving me feeling small and tired. "If I'm not playing hockey... I don't really know who I am."

Chloe let out a soft sigh. She stepped closer, setting the cold pack gently against my swollen leg. Her touch was warm, soft, and surprisingly tender.

"You're still a person without the jersey, Nathaniel," she said softly, her voice lose to a quiet comfort. "And a person needs time to heal."

I looked up at her face, noticing the long eyelashes framing her dark eyes and the tiny stray hairs falling out of her ponytail. A sudden, powerful urge washed over me. I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to know what made her so strong, so brave, and so stubborn.

"Hey, Chloe..." I began, my heart pounding heavily. "Are you free after your shift? I was thinking maybe we could grab a coffee down the—"

Before I could finish my sentence, her phone on the desk suddenly buzzed loudly, ringing with a cheerful song.

Chloe stepped back, breaking our connection, and answered it immediately. "Hey, Maya! What's up?"

I sat quietly on the bench, watching her face light up as she listened to her friend on the line.

"Tonight?" Chloe laughed, leaning against the counter and completely forgetting I was in the room. "Yeah, I definitely need a break after the crazy week I've had. Send me the address for the party. I'll meet you guys there at eight!"