Semua Bab The Famous Hockey Star Is My Patient : Bab 1 - Bab 6

Ivy's POV Let me tell you something about professional athletes. They don’t break quietly. I learned that the hard way my first official day with the New York Defenders. The physio room smelled like antiseptic and regret, the kind of sterile chill that seeped straight into your bones. I’d spent the morning setting up my station—resistance bands color-coded, foam rollers stacked like tiny soldiers, my playlist already queued on low because silence made these guys twitchy. Also due to my past failure with an athlete, My career was literally on the line.“Unbreakable” by cbg was humming through the speakers when the door slammed open hard enough to rattle the glass. Ronan Hale didn’t walk in. He limped. Crutches under both arms, jaw locked so tight I could see the muscle jump. Six-foot-four of pure goalie menace wrapped in a Defenders hoodie that had seen better days. His dark hair was messy like he’d dragged his hands through it a hundred times, and those famous ice-blue eyes

Ivy's POV Let me tell you something about stubborn athletes.They test every limit you set, then glare at you like you’re the villain for enforcing them.And let me tell you something about new lead physios.We don’t get the luxury of failing quietly.I walked into the physio room the next afternoon with my bag slung over one shoulder and a fresh playlist already running in my head. Something upbeat, slightly aggressive, the kind of energy that says we are working today, whether your ego agrees or not.The room still smelled like antiseptic and cold determination. Same treatment table. Same equipment. Same battlefield disguised as recovery.I had added a few things overnight—mini bands, a balance pad, an extra foam roller. Small upgrades that made a big difference if the patient actually showed up ready to work.A message notification buzzed on my phone as I set my bag down.Coach Reynolds: Update on Hale’s mobility progress ASAP.I stared at it for half a second, then locked my scre

Ivy's POV The penthouse hit me like a slap shot to the ribs the second I stepped inside.Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Manhattan skyline, all sharp glass and steel that screamed money and isolation. Security had waved me through after a quick scan, handing over a sleek keycard and muttering something about “team discretion.” My emergency kit felt suddenly ridiculous slung over my shoulder—like bringing a band-aid to a war zone. Two Defenders staffers waited in the massive open living area, both wearing matching grim expressions. One was the assistant GM, the other a media handler whose name I’d already forgotten.“Ivy Summers?” the GM guy said, checking his watch. “Good. Ronan’s en route from the hospital. Wheelchair for now—doctor’s orders after that fall. We need you to stay put here until they bring him up. No press, no leaks, nothing. Just handle the next seventy-two hours like your career depends on it. Because it does.”I nodded, throat tight. “Understood. Elevation eve