"Miss your pretty face blocking shots? Always."
Cade sets down the kettlebells with athudthat earns him another glare from Coach.
"Hey, real talk though." He drops onto the bench beside Willa, swiping a towel across his neck. "You been out for weeks, Lane. Don't tell me the puck bunnies haven't been blowing up your phone. Keeping you entertained, eh?"
I shake my head when he winks and sticks his tongue out at me. "Jensen—"
"I'm just saying. Last season? You had what, a different girl every Friday? That redhead from the Lounge alone—"
"Oh. Matilda?"
"Matilda." Cade whistles low and nods knowingly. "So who's been keeping you warm? Concussion recovery's gotta be lonely. You back on the apps? You got someone on rotation? Don't get me wrong, Paigey is beautiful and I'm happy as hell with her. I'm just looking out for you brother."
My mouth opens to fire back with something filthy… something about Matilda's flexibility or the way her mouth felt. Or that bartender I had in Vancouver during Playoffs. Or any one of the bodies that used to fill the empty hours with pleasure.
But my brain serves up something else entirely.
Zoey.
Yesterday, when she was bent over the display case, restocking croissants and those black leggings stretched across her ass. She had flour smudged on them from where she kept wiping her hands, and all I could think was what if they weremyhand prints.
My cock twitches in my training shorts, and I shift on the foam mat before Willa clocks it as a medical anomaly.
"Twenty reps, Colt." Willa taps her pen impatiently, eyeing Cade with a warning look she must have learned from Coach. "Cade, stop distracting him."
I pull the band tighter.
Because the truth is, I don'twanta Friday night warm body anymore.
"JENSEN!" Nico barks again, and Cade snaps back to his kettlebells with the speed of a man who values his roster spot.
I return to my bands, counting reps I stopped caring about three sets ago even though my head's still in the bakery, thinking about thighs so thick and sexy, a man could spend a weekend between them and still feel ungrateful for the privilege.
Christ.
Willa finishes running me through the rest of the circuit, checking everything from the balance board, to single-leg squats and some rotational core work that makes my obliques scream.
Eventually, Willa sets down her tablet and looks at me with a tiny smile.
"Good news, Lane."
My heart stutters. "Yeah?"
"As far as I can tell, your balance is back to baseline and your cognitive response times have normalized. Your sleep data from the tracker has also been solid." She pauses, and I swear she's enjoying watching me sweat. "I'm clearing you for light work. Some skating, but non-contact drills only. You can start next week."
The sound that comes out of me is not dignifiedat all.
It's somewhere between a yelp and a fucking war cry that's loud enough to make Samuel rack his barbell and Gabe stop mid-punch.
"Are youserious?"
Willa nods. "I'm always serious."
I shoot up, my hands gripping her shoulders.
"Willa Jameson. I could kiss you right now."
She pulls back, her eyes widening. "Please don't. Nico would kill you, and I'd have to fill out the paperwork."