Alle Kapitel von The Famous Hockey Star Is My Patient : Kapitel 51 – Kapitel 60

IVY'S POV The Chicago job offer sat in my inbox like a quiet ultimatum.I hadn’t replied yet. Every time I opened the email, my finger hovered over the keyboard, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I found myself drifting through the apartment, touching things that reminded me of him, even though I had left most of our shared memories behind in the penthouse. A hoodie I’d stolen from him during one cold night. The notebook where I’d written his progress notes mixed with secret hearts. The playlist he made me, which I still listened to when the silence became too loud.Today, the loneliness hit harder than usual.I curled up on the couch with my laptop, telling myself I was just going to check the news. But my fingers betrayed me. I typed his name into the search bar. Old game highlights appeared first. I clicked one before I could stop myself.There he was — Ronan Hale in his prime, standing tall in the net, ice-blue eyes focused, body moving with that powerful grace I had fallen

IVY'S POV The quiet in my apartment had become a ritual I both hated and relied on.I spent most mornings forcing myself through small routines — making tea I barely sipped, stretching in the limited space near the window, and trying to read articles about sports medicine that no longer felt like they belonged to me. The Chicago job offer still sat unanswered in my inbox, a constant reminder that life was moving forward whether I was ready or not. Some days I felt strong for keeping my distance. Most days I felt like I was slowly disappearing.Today, I was scrolling through my phone during a rare moment of courage, trying to catch up on the world outside my four walls. I avoided anything related to Ronan as much as possible, but the algorithm had other plans. A short video from a sports news account appeared in my feed, and before I could scroll past, his name caught my eye.I pressed play with trembling fingers.The clip was recent — filmed in the Defenders’ training facility. Ro

IVY'S POV The days were starting to feel a little less heavy, even if the ache in my chest remained constant.I had just finished a quiet morning walk when my phone lit up with messages from Jenna and Liam. They had flown in the night before as a surprise, refusing to let me wallow alone any longer. Their texts were full of determination and love.Jenna: Get dressed. We’re kidnapping you for the night market tonight. No excuses. Liam: Bring your smile. We’re making it our mission to see it today.I smiled despite myself — a small, tentative thing that felt foreign on my face. Part of me wanted to stay curled up in my apartment, safe in the silence. But another part, the part that was trying so hard to heal, knew I needed this. I needed my friends.By evening, they arrived at my door like a burst of color in my gray world. Jenna pulled me into a tight hug the moment I opened it, while Liam ruffled my hair like we were back in college.“You look like you haven’t seen sunlight in week

IVY'S POV The acceptance email for the Boston job still sat in my drafts, unsent.I had written it three times, rewritten it twice, and closed the laptop each time with trembling hands. Every version felt too final, like signing away the last fragile thread connecting me to Ronan. So I left it there, a digital ghost hovering in the background while I tried to keep moving forward.Jenna refused to let me drown in that limbo.She had organized a proper girls’ night at my apartment — “No excuses, no canceling, and absolutely no moping allowed,” she had texted earlier. When she arrived that evening with bags full of snacks, face masks, and two bottles of wine, I felt the first genuine smile in days tug at my lips.“You’re a force of nature,” I told her as she pushed past me into the kitchen, already unpacking everything like she owned the place.“Someone has to be,” she replied, hugging me tightly. “You’ve been carrying too much alone. Tonight we’re unpacking some of it together.”We se

IVY'S POV The first morning in Boston felt like stepping onto a new stage with unfamiliar lights.I stood in front of the mirror in my small apartment, adjusting the collar of my professional blouse for the third time. The navy fabric was crisp and new, chosen specifically for this day. My hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and I had applied a touch of makeup to hide the shadows under my eyes. I looked like the competent, professional therapist I had always prided myself on being. But inside, my stomach was a knot of nerves and quiet hope.This was my fresh start.I grabbed my bag, locked the door, and walked the short distance to the Boston Storm’s training facility. The building was modern and bright, with glass walls and the faint scent of ice and effort in the air. The head of the medical department, Dr. Ramirez, greeted me warmly at the front desk and gave me a quick tour. The rehab area was well-equipped, with state-of-the-art machines and private treatment rooms. It fe