Chapter Four: Gravity Calling
"Friend, it's getting late, we should be going
Oh, can you feel the gravity falling, calling us home?
Oh, did you see the stars colliding? Shining just to show,
We belong.
Your telescope eyes see everything clearly
My vision is blurred but I know what I heard
Echoing all around.
Well, I am tuning you in and you are deciphering me.
Not such a mystery, not such a faint and far away sound."
- Deciphering Me by Brooke Fraser
Almost a month later, Monday
It kept on like that for what felt like forever. Nearly half of my dinners were spent with the guys and we all seemed to get a lot closer because of it. Inside jokes were formed, stories were shared and our friendships seemed to solidify. Region, college team, family origins, gender. Every boundary seemed to fade into the background as, slowly, most of us began to trust one another. There was still plenty of room for growth however.
My mouth dropped open at the loud crack that filled the air when the two heavily padded bodies crashed into one another. Busy doing paperwork, I hadn't even seen the play that had just failed, only the heap of body parts it had left as carnage. A dark red uniform covered by a gray one lay on the ice and almost instantly my brain registered the two bodies. Rammer and Mac.
Slowly, Rammer lifted himself off of Rob, obviously aware that he'd caused some damage and trying to keep from causing any more.
"Ahh!" His lack of success probably would have gone unnoticed had it not caused a crippling moan of pain to sputter from Rob's mouth, echoing around the silent stadium. Everyone in the arena had stopped what they were doing as they watched the pair, wondering if the hit had been as bad it sounded. The fact that Rob remained on the ground, his face screwed up in pain as Rammer stood beside him, solidified our worries.
Sighing, Taylor skated over, obviously more out of obligation than anything. She was never happy when something halted her practice time and today she seemed to be even more on edge than usual. The guys were having a tough time getting organized defensively and she was going out of her mind, nitpicking and screaming almost nonstop. It was a wonder she hadn't lost her voice already.
Skating to a stop beside him, I saw the pain on his own face erase the anger from hers. For a moment, she was completely unsure of what to say. The moment didn't last long however as Doc scurried out over the ice to get a look at Mac.
"What happened?" He asked, kneeling beside the injured forward. For a moment no one said a word and a number of looks were exchanged. Finally, Rammer spoke up, recounting the events to explain.
"I was forced out of the left lane and came into Mac's unexpectedly. He was too close for me to stop. I'm pretty sure I got him in the left shoulder."
"Thank you Michael." Quickly nodding at the defensive player, he turned back to Mac, who was still grimacing on his back. I couldn't be sure but it looked as though his eyes were wet. From the sound I'd heard, I couldn't blame him. "Is that where you feel pain, in your shoulder?"
"Yah." Robbie nodded as Doc tried to help him sit up. "Ahh!" Every muscle on his face contorted in pain as he brought himself forward, screaming half way through the attempt.
I'm not sure how I held myself back. I remember standing there, in the player's box, pressed up against the wall with my cold fingers gripping the edge. The pounding of my heart in my chest was the slightest bit painful, tainted with adrenaline and fear. I remember I was barely breathing, scared that the noise would drown out any sounds being made on the ice. And all of my being wanted to leap out of the box and run out into the rink just to kneel beside him as well. But I knew I couldn't.
'Doc needs space to be able to help him. It's your job to assist him, not get in his way. If he needs you, he'll let you know.'
Swallowing, I glanced around the rink at the rest of the players as they stood just as frozen as the ice below them, before I sat back down and waited. Lifting him to his feet, which caused another grimace of pain from Mac (though he stayed admirably silent), Doc led him back towards the player's boxes and the rink exit. Without even having to be asked, I was up out of my seat and waiting rinkside within seconds. As they came towards me, I lifted out my hands to take his things (gloves, stick, etc.) before following them into the back.
Just being in the tiny medical wing of the locker rooms made me more at ease. I loved being rinkside but in there, I was truly in my element. Laying Mac's things on a chair in a corner, I hurried over to the examination table to help Doc take off the rest of his equipment. Too scared of hurting his shoulder even worse, I got down on my knees and began undoing his skates.
Normally, my dirty mind and I got along as it got me through many a boring situation. But at times like this it only served to make my cheeks look as though they'd just been freshly slapped. Rosy red invaded the skin on either side of my nose as blood burned up my neck and over my face. I was on my knees in front of Robbie McClanahan and undressing him. Could this get any weirder? Considering the kind of fantasies I'd been entertaining about him as of late, I really didn't think it could.
A hiss or two left his lips as Doc helped him out of his jersey and shoulder pads. As the spotless, white laces on his skates danced with my fingers I tried desperately to ignore the kinds of images the sounds he was making were bringing to life in my imagination. Trying to find something else to occupy myself with, I took his things over to the chair where I'd laid his equipment and folded it all neatly. Simultaneously, I listened as intently as I could to what was going on behind me on the examination table.
"Where does it hurt?" I heard Doc ask him.
"Up, up, over to the side, ahh, yah! Yah, right there!" Half of me wanted to dissolve into heart wrenching pity from the whimpering sound of his voice and the other part of me could think of nothing but the double sword his words provided. Suddenly, I was quite sure I knew how James Bond felt as he was tortured for information by foreign spy networks. If this wasn't torture, I didn't know what was. I did however, think I had an idea of what was wrong with him.
Before I could stop myself, I'd turned around walked back over to the table. However, I hadn't exactly been anticipating Rob to be sitting there in nothing but his dirty, white under shorts. For a moment I just stood there, frozen mid-step as my eyes adjusted to the rough contours and deep ravines his muscle had cut out his figure with. It wasn't like I'd never seen him with his shirt off, I worked as a physical therapist intern in his locker room for crying out loud. But still, this was different.
This time, all the other guys were out on the ice. This time, we had all the flirting and playful bonding of a month's worth of dinners together between us. This time, I couldn't deny in the least how much I wanted him.
Taking a deep breath, I completed my journey over to the examination table. Doc, who was standing slightly behind his patient's left shoulder, looked up at me with a solemn expression. There was a large bruise forming on the round of Mac's shoulder, beginning at the end of his collar bone and extending through to the triceps on that arm. From Doc's position, I could tell he what he thought this was: glenoid labrum damage.
Inside your shoulder is a fibrous ring of tissue which attaches to the rim of shoulder blade to the socket of your arm. By falling hard on this area, especially with your arm out like Mac's had been, you can easily damage the connective tissue that holds. It made sense…but judging from where his bruise was welting the most, I wasn't so sure that it was a correct diagnosis.
"I think the fall might have damaged his collar bone." I said softly, narrowing my eyes slightly as I inspected his bruise. At this point I was standing flush up against the table, trapped between the heat of his torso and the muscles in his right arm. Somehow, however, I was doing a very good job pushing both of these distractions out of my conscious and concentrating almost entirely on his shoulder. "I think it stretched his A-C."
Looking up once more at Doc for his opinion, I found him in deep thought as he continued to stare at Mac's shoulder. After a moment or two of seemingly searching the skin on the back of Robbie's body for an answer, he looked up at me and nodded, giving me the go ahead to start asking questions. For the first time during this whole process, I looked down into our patient's dark eyes. Despite the pain in his face, his eyes were strong and solid, showing no signs of struggle.
"You're A-C ligaments are what hold your collar bone in place." I explained, so he wouldn't feel out of the loop. "If I'm right in thinking you stretched them…this is going to hurt a lot."
Allowing a deep breath to enter his lungs, Rob gave me a nod.
"I trust you."
A small smile touched my lips.
"I'm glad." Giving him a nod of my own, I began. The first thing I had to do was find the joint the ligaments were attached too. My fingertips found his skin, bruised and slick with sweat, hesitantly at first. When he didn't show any outward signs of pain, I applied more pressure, knowing it would take more to properly diagnose his injury. Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed his jaw set as he grit his teeth against the pain. In my chest I could feel my heart splintering under the weight of what I was doing to him. Taking a deep breath, I forced my fingers further along his shoulder.
"Can you feel anything?" Doc asked. In all honesty, I'd actually quite forgotten he was even in the room. The reminder was very welcome since it came with the assurance that I had very seasoned, very knowledgeable back up in case I screwed Mac up any worse than he already was.
"Yah," I nodded, glancing up at him over Mac's shoulder. "The ligaments are tender, starting to swell. I'm almost positive he's strained his A-C."
"What about the conoid and trapezoid ligaments? Are they in tact?" His voice was soft, Latvian accent curling around the words gently like smoke. Feeling further back, I had no choice but to apply more pressure to the dip of his collar bone to find his other ligaments.
"Aggh!" A low growl escaped Mac's lips as he threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, obviously suffering dizzying amounts of discomfort from the pressure I was applying.
"I'm sorry." The whisper was involuntary as it flew from my mouth. Slowly, I withdrew my fingertips from his skin, my features twisted with apology. He didn't move, his breathing heavy and ragged as he recovered from the sudden onslaught of pain. "I-I'll get some ice…"
With that I left Doc to find his other ligaments and diagnose their state. It was ridiculous of me to run from the situation and I hated that I was doing it…but I just couldn't stand to hurt him. And I knew that made me weak and insufficient and bad at my job. But the guilt over being a crappy intern didn't really help alleviate the weight that dragged my heart down into the depths of my stomach every time he flinched or winced at my touch.
"You're right. It's definitely the Acromioclavicular ligament. " Doc nodded as I came back over with a bag full of ice and a sling I'd pulled down from one of the cupboards. As I set the ice in place on his shoulder, he began fixing the sling onto Mac's arm, turning to him to explain what he needed to do. "You should probably take tomorrow off." Mac opened his mouth to protest but he was stopped before he could even get a word in. "I'll talk to Herb, it should be fine. Right now you need to rest. Wednesday you come into practice, we'll take a look and see how it's doing. I doubt you'll be able to do very much, but God knows I won't be able to keep you out of here for more than twenty-four hours, ah?" As Doc chuckled, the first smile I'd seen out of Mac all day lit up my eyes and I couldn't help but don a little smile of my own.
"Why don't I go get your street clothes and start helping you into those? Doc, I can clean up here if you need to go talk to Herb."
He turned to me with a curious look on his face.
"Are you sure? I know this is not easy for you, seeing them hurt this badly."
Smiling softly, I nodded.
"Really, I can handle it. It's my job, right?" A breathy laugh left my throat and he nodded in agreement.
"Okay, if you're sure I'm not going to fight you. Rest your arm Robert, keep it elevated, ah?"
"Absolutely." He smiled at our resident physician, waving him off. "Thanks."
Smiling to myself, I made my way into the locker rooms to search for Mac's stuff. If I remembered right, I had to walk left, across to the far wall and it'd be beside Verchota's gear. But I guess I'd remembered wrong because as I looked around, his name tag seemed to be missing in action. I glanced at the wall on either side of where I thought his things would be but found nothing.
'Hmm, weird. Okay, I guess I'll just have to'-
"Woah." Halfway through turning around to continue my search I ran smack into something hard and obviously very out of place. I really didn't remember there being a random support beam in the middle of the locker room. Taking a few steps back and blinking open my eyes I realized that was because there wasn't one. There was just Mac, obviously restless and roaming around.
"You're in the wrong corner." He smirked.
"Oh." Came my slick response. "Weren't you by Phil before? I could have sworn…"
"Coach let his first guy go on Friday and I moved over beside Coxy. Thought you were going crazy for a second, huh?" His smile let go of a soft, amused chuckle and I started to wonder if letting Doc leave me alone with this guy, half dressed and charming as ever, had been such a smart idea.
"Yah." Doing my best to smile, I nodded and crossed the room to Ralph Cox's gear, to the left of which sat Mac's. Naturally, he followed and I smirked as I unzipped his duffle, searching for street clothes. "You warmin' up to the Northeasterners huh?" I teased as I pulled out a maroon polo. The fact that he always wore collared shirts was something I'd noticed before we'd even started hanging out and I loved it. I came from preppy stock myself and the fact that we shared the same style seemed like just another sign that we would be good together.
"Just a few." He responded, donning a cheeky smirk as I helped him take off his sling. "Most of 'em kinda freak me out."
"Really?" I raised an eyebrow, holding up his forearm in place of the sling, as we worked the shirt over his head. Two could play this game. "You know, that's how I felt about people from Minnesota at first. But, I gave 'em a shot and they turned out to be kinda cool…for Midwesterners."
"Oh yah?" He asked, clearly amused as I pulled down his shirt. I wanted to respond but suddenly I couldn't. As my fingertips grazed the soft skin of his torso on their way down with his shirt, it felt like all the air had been swiped from my lungs. Swallowing, I tried to breathe, staring idiotically at his chest.
"Are you alright?"
Looking up I saw the same look of concern he always wore when I started to act like I was retarded. It seemed odd to me, not to mention grossly unfair, that he could remain so good looking even when frowning. My dumb look melted away as I shook my head back to earth.
"Yah, sorry. Um, I just realized you still haven't showered. And you're gunna have a hell of a time doing that all by yourself at home."
He cocked an eyebrow and the smirk that crossed his face this time couldn't be done justice by the word 'cheeky'.
"Not if I have help."
A laugh died in my nose, coming out sounding half like a snort and partly like choked amusement. The problem was, my body couldn't decide which I was more of at the moment: amused or disarmed. Because as funny as Mac was…God knows I wouldn't have been able to turn down a shower staring him and yours truly. Thankfully, he was chuckling as well, so I didn't look like as much of an idiot as I had room to. But trust me, I still felt like one.
"Was that line supposed to work?" I smirked, amazed that I could act so cool with the way my nerves were spazzing out under my skin.
"Only if you said yes." He shrugged. Rolling my eyes, I picked up his duffle and headed back towards the medical wing.
"I don't think it's fair to ask you to take off your sling and get out of your shirt again, so I think I'm going to have to give you a sponge bath…with your clothes on." I tacked on at the end before he could say a word. We got him set up on the examination table once more and I went to grab a washcloth and some soap from one of the cupboards.
"So, practice didn't seem to be going too well today." I commented, making small talk to try and expel at least some of the awkwardness.
"Yah, well. It's Coach Roberts, ya know? How well can things ever go?" He shrugged. Even though the boys still resented her for coming onto their ice after practice with Coach Brooks and making their lives a living hell, they had all begun calling her Coach Roberts. I had a hunch it had a lot to with the fact that that was all Rizzo ever called her and the boys tended to follow his lead.
"Are things really still that bad?" I asked over my shoulder, soaping up the washcloth I'd found with hot water. Rob was silent at first and I could tell he was giving the question genuine thought.
"It's not really her, ya know? It's like…we have to deal with Herb, which is bad enough. And we do ya know, we put up with it. We do all his crazy little drills, we run all his weird plays, and we do it without a word. And afterwards, we just want to crash, ya know? The last thing we want is a whole other practice, least of all coached by a girl. No offense." He explained, tacking on the last bit as an after thought, complete with a small smile. Donning one of my own, I nodded as I came over.
"She knows what she's doing, though." At this point I hesitated, damp cloth in hand, as I analyzed my options as far as where to stand. Within seconds it was pretty clear that if I wanted to do this right, I had to stand between his thighs.
"Do you know what you're doing?" He asked playfully, cocking an eyebrow.
"Uh…" I hesitated, unsure of how to phrase my question. "I-yah. You don't mind if I, if I stand between your…" Motioning with my hands, I let them do the talking, for some reason completely unable to make the words come out. Normally this kind of stuff was no big deal. After all, this was what I wanted to do with my life, work with athletes in this kind of setting. I'd always been comfortable around other people's bodies. So why was I so frustratingly uncomfortable around Mac?
"Legs?" He finished my sentence for me. I could have kicked myself. "I dunno, why don't we try it and see what happens."
"Smart ass." I mumbled, catching the same smirk he threw my way as I stepped forward. Swallowing, I laid a hand on his upper thigh, trying to act nonchalant as I settled between his knees. "So far so good?"
Looking me in the eyes, he just nodded. Taking a deep breath, I nodded back and began lifting his shirt. Why hadn't I thought to do this before getting him dressed? Why? Why did my life insist on putting me in the most humiliating situations?
Both of us were silent for the first couple of moments as I gently rubbed circles into his very well defined abdominal muscles. I tried tapping into my medical side, recalling the anatomy of the stomach and quizzing myself on the names of the muscles, bones and joints that were all sitting precariously beneath his perfectly smooth, alabaster, now slick with soapy water skin. Obviously that didn't work for very long.
Clearing my throat, I opted to speak up.
"What was I saying before?"
"Apparently, Taylor knows what she's doing." He reminded me almost immediately. I had to wonder what he'd been thinking about this whole time. How weird this must have been for him, having someone else bathe him, a female someone else no less. God.
"Right, I was just saying don't you feel like you've gotten better at skating thanks to her?" My hands circled further now, quickly reaching his pectoral muscles. Underneath my own, I could feel my heartbeat heighten the slightest bit in pace and I sincerely hoped Robbie couldn't feel my pulse against his skin.
He gave a pathetic, one shouldered shrug and I tried very hard not to smile.
"Yah, I guess. Doesn't make me like practice any more, though."
Nodding in understanding, I paused.
"I'm going to have to get a little closer to you to get your back…is that okay?"
"Do whatever you need to." He shrugged, as cool with this arrangement as if he was giving himself a bath. "I'm all yours."
Three things happened simultaneously at that moment.
1) I pressed myself up against his chest and reached around his back with my wash cloth.
2) Practice ended and the boys began walking in.
3) And my jaw dropped at Mac's words, although thankfully, no one saw this because my face was all but buried in his left shoulder.
The catcalls began immediately as our precarious position was on prominent display for absolutely everyone to see. Everyone consisting of twenty five hormonally charged 20-something year old guys, it was obvious that we were going to get more than teased. In fact, I had to wonder for a split second where the harassment filing paperwork could be found because I was sure I was going to need it.
Taking a deep breath, I began to back off of Mac and turn to face the boys.
"Now there's a definition of physical therapy I've never heard." Of course O.C. just had to be the first one to get in a jab. Of course.
"Comfortable over there Mac?" Jimmy chuckled as he undid his goalie masked.
"Guys, it's not like that okay. I was just helping him get a sponge bath." As soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to strangle myself. A chorus of 'Ooo's and laughter berated me in response to the word bath.
"Hey, how bad to I have to get hurt to get that kind of treatment?"
"Yah, we runnin' a spa here?"
"Where do I sign up?"
"Boys!" An icy female voice snapped. Immediately the laughter faded. "Unless you would all like slings to match Mac's, I suggest you keep your comments to yourself. Understood?"
Mac and I exchanged glances, snickering helplessly at Taylor's latest ground breaking entrance. Biting my lip until I was sure it was going to bleed, I had to turn my back to her as she walked in, pretending that I needed to wash off the cloth I was using under the tap, so I could have a chance at getting a hold of myself. Behind me, I heard her yank the curtain between the locker room and medical wing closed before she turned on her heel to face us.
"Guys, really. What is going on?" She murmured in a low voice the second she'd turned around. I gave her an incredulous look, Mac just chuckled.
"Nothing is going on, I swear! You wanna help me give Mac a bath?"
"What is he your pet Labrador? Why are you giving him a bath?"
"Maybe you missed the part where I fell during practice and am now wearing a sling?" Robbie spoke up, regarding his coach with mild amusement. Cocking an eyebrow at his tone of voice, Taylor snapped her wrist out so her hand was thrust towards me, palm up.
"Sure, I'll help you scrub his skin raw. Not a problem."
Chuckling to myself, I threw her my washcloth before grabbing another one for myself.
"If you could just get his arms for me, I need to go back over the soap and rinse it off."
"Can I ask why you decided to do this after you got his clothes on?" She asked, scrubbing circles into his left arm. Taking a deep breath, I did everything humanly possibly not to lose my cool.
"I've been asking myself the same question for a good fifteen minutes now."
"You've been scrubbing him down for fifteen minutes and all you got through was his torso? Damn Macky, I didn't know you were that well endowed." She smirked, obviously happy with herself about that little jab. Over his shoulder I gave her wide, unbelieving eyes. Did she seriously just say that? Oh, kill me now.
"I just got distracted, okay?" I grumbled, going back over his abs with the wet washcloth in order to wipe off the residue the soap had left behind. Round two on the washboard wasn't so bad since I had company (not that she was any help…), but on the backburner of my thoughts I was still going out of my mind with lust.
"Chya, I bet you did." She smirked. Rolling my eyes, I just shook my head and laughed.
"Hey Coach Robahts…" One of the boys tentatively called from the locker room side of the curtain. After a month of training these boys she knew their voices by heart and responded immediately.
"Yes Silky, what can I do for you?" Her voice drawled in a bored, sarcastic tone.
"We can't really get to the showahs with the med wing blocked like this." he pointed out. I looked over at Taylor for a reaction but her face didn't change. Moving over to Mac's right arm, she shrugged.
"Guess you shouldn't have made fun of Mac while he took a bath. Karma's a bitch, ain't it boys?" As I busted out laughing, I couldn't help but think that I didn't care what Mac said. Crazy as she was, I loved this girl.
Aaand end. I really like the way this chapter turned out, I thought I did it pretty well, what about you? ;P Thannks again to rejazzz for reviewinggg! Oh, and just a random bit of information. So, I was thinking and I realized that Alaska doesn't have a team in the NHL and I was like...what is that all about? I mean if anything, they should have like one of the best teams around, right? So, I looked it up and apparently Alaska has its OWN hockey association hahaha, isn't that great? I got the biggest kick out of that. Plus, they have a decent women's hockey circuit, which I also thought was boss. Road trip to Anchorage!! haha
-Rachel