Brooke

 

After helping him get into bed, I went to the kitchen and grabbed two beers from the refrigerator. Handing him the bottle, he gave me a slight smile.

“Seriously?

“You earned it. Would you mind if I sat next to you?”

“No. Please do.” He patted the side next to him.

Twisting the cap from the bottle, I set it down on the nightstand and then I tipped my bottle against his.

“Here’s to moving forward and starting the healing process. No more going back into the past.”

The corners of his mouth curved up. “I will admit that you’re the best-looking nurse I’ve ever seen.”

I laughed. “Thank you, but I’m not a nurse.”

“What? You’re not?”

“I’m a physical therapist. I’m going to work on getting your leg back to normal function so you can play hockey again.”

“The doctors said I’ll never play again. How am I supposed to skate when I’ll be walking with a limp the rest of my life?”

“First rule: never listen to what the doctors say. They stick by what they’re taught. The fight and the will to change what they said comes from inside you. If you believe you will never play hockey again, then you won’t. Only you have the power to defy the odds and prove everyone who didn’t believe you could wrong.”

“I’m scared.” He looked down. “I can’t believe I just told you that.”

“It’s normal to be scared, and you need to let your feelings out. If you don’t, they will hold you back during your rehabilitation.”

“Tell me about what happened to you.”

“I will, but first things first. You need to get cleaned up.”

He brought his hand up to his beard. “Yeah. I know. It’s been a long time.”

“I’ll tell you what, get in that wheelchair, and let’s go into the bathroom so I can shave off that messy beard of yours.”

His eyebrow raised as his eyes stared into mine. “You’re going to shave it off? Thanks, but no thanks. I can do it myself.”

“Rule number two: you have to trust me. If you don’t trust me, I can’t help you.”

“What if you cut me?” He smirked.

“I won’t. I promise.”

“How’s your hand? I’m sorry I threw the glass and you cut yourself.”

I held it up and showed him the Band-Aid. “All better.” I smiled. “Now come on; let’s get rid of that beard.”

****

Logan

Climbing out of bed, Brooke held the wheelchair steady while I climbed in. She was a beautiful woman and I felt horrible for the way I had treated her. She told me that I needed to trust her. Did I? I didn’t know her at all, so how could I trust her? I thought she was just another nurse my brother hired to take care of me. Boy, was I wrong. I never dreamed in a million years that she was a physical therapist. She was tough and she pulled things out of me that I’d kept locked up inside since the accident. I needed to know more about her and what happened to her. When she said that she was told she’d never walk again, but yet, here she was standing in front of me, I had a small, very small vision of hope. In a way, I was relieved and happy she was here because if anyone understood what I was going through, she did. My family, team, and friends didn’t get it. They always looked at me with pity, but Brooke never did. Never once since she’d been here did I see that in her eyes.

She wheeled me into the bathroom and faced the wheelchair in front of the mirror.

“Where’s all your shaving gear?” she asked as she grabbed the oversized towel from the rack and draped it over me.

“In the cabinet over there.” I pointed.

After setting the razor and shaving cream on the bathroom counter, she stood behind me and ran her fingers through my hair.

“You’re also going to need a haircut, but I can’t cut hair.” She smiled. “I’ll take you to get it cut tomorrow.”

Fear resided in me at the thought of leaving my apartment. “I don’t want to go out.”

“It’s not an option, Logan. You’re getting your cast off tomorrow. Give me your hairstylist’s name and number and I will call and try to get you in before your doctor’s appointment.”

“Shit. I forgot I’m getting this damn thing off tomorrow. What time is the appointment?”

“One o’clock.”

As much as I wanted my cast off, I was afraid. I hadn’t been outside since the accident. The world hadn’t seen me in my state of destruction. My agent and my coach tried to get me to do interviews and hold a press conference about the accident, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I didn’t want the world to see me like this.

“I don’t want to go to the hair salon, Brooke. Call and have Henry come here to cut my hair.”

She stepped from behind the wheelchair and placed her hands on the arms, turning me around so I was facing her.

“I know you’re hiding from the world. You were this badass super star hockey player who everyone adored and you don’t want them to see you like this. You don’t want their perception of you to change. I get it. I really do. You’re afraid people won’t accept you anymore because you can’t play hockey. But what you don’t seem to understand is that people won’t forget you. This accident changes nothing. It doesn’t the change the man you are inside; the person you were before you played hockey. It’s time to get back out in the world, Logan. You can’t hide from it anymore. You need to hold your head up and let people know that this accident hasn’t defeated you. Be that fierce man you are when you’re on the ice. Show people that person is still here and willing to fight like hell to recover.”

“How do you know how I am on the ice?” He smirked.

“I watched some YouTube videos of your games.”

“So you had no idea who I was when Brandon hired you?”

“Nope.” She squirted some shaving cream in her hand.

As she brought her hand to my face, I pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” She cocked her head.

“Nothing. I’m just used to shaving myself.”

She laughed. “Well, you better get used to me touching you because I’m going to be doing a lot of it.”

Good God. I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. She was so pretty and she had such an amazing body that I feared I wouldn’t be able to control my cock. Although I wasn’t even sure if an erection was possible since I hadn’t had one since the accident. Another reason I was so angry. I watched porn several times to jack myself off to release the frustration I felt and that didn’t even work. I had become a sexually frustrated man and her touching me might just send me over the edge.