Page 19 of Tough Score

"He needs a PT before he even gets home," he tells Sam.

"I agree. Phil says that we have access to whatever funds we need to get Reeve back up and playing. We can pay for the best," Sam says.

Bex's hands pinch at his hips. "We need someone who will work with him daily and get him back on the ice."

Then Sam's eyes turn toward me. "Keely, do you still want the job with the Hawkeyes?"

"Yes, absolutely I do," I tell him, wide-eyed at his question.

"It's obvious you care about Reeve since you're still here. And right now, he could use your skills. How do you feel about being his PT and working with Reeve to get him back in shape? If you can get him back into shape well enough to get cleared for practice before the job opening for the PT position with the Hawkeyes', then the position is yours."

I can barely believe what I'm hearing.

Not only is he giving me the chance to work with Reeve, but he's also offering me a job if I can pull this off and get Reeve healthy enough to practice with the team.

I want this.

I want to show Sam that I'm ready for the position as a PT, and I owe this to Reeve.

If he hadn't pushed me out of the way, it might have been me in post-op instead of him.

"I'll do it. When do I start?" I ask.

"Right now."

Chapter Six

Reeve

My mouth tastes like cotton, and I still feel the groggy effects after waking up from surgery.

I stare down at the gray hospital-issued blanket lying over my legs as the blood pressure cuff tightens around my bicep and beeps as it takes its reading.

"Good, 113 over 68... you're perfect," the nurse standing next to me says.

She pulls the Velcro apart on the blood pressure cuff and then turns to input the information into the computer system next to my bed. "How are you feeling? Are you comfortable? I see in your chart that you don't want any pain medication."

She glances up at her. "That's correct. I don't need it. Pain meds mess with my performance."

Nurse Dolly snickers at my comment, and I realize that she took it a little differently than I meant it, unsure how to respond.

"Your performance huh? Well, listen there, young man. I'm always open to watching a good performance, especially from any of the members of the Hawkeyes team, but keep in clean, will you?" she winks, and I let out a chuckle.

"Get your head out of the gutter, Dolly; that's not the kind of "performance" I was referring to and you know it," I tease back.

"Just as well," she says, then leans closer with a playful smirk. "I'm partial to the old players anyway. No offense. Feel free to drop Wrenley or Coach Bex in my hospital bed any day."

Dolly's a feisty one and I'm grateful for the distraction as the weight of my injury is a little more than I care to handle right now.

"Gotta kick a man when he's down, do you?" I tell her.

That earns me another sly smile from my nurse.

"You won't be down for long, Hun. You'll be back up making highlight reel trick shots like you did last night. But I'd clear your "performing arts" with the doctor before you mess up that pretty knee of yours."

"I will. And when I'm back on the ice, maybe you can come watch me perform something a little cleaner."

"Oh don't bother saving me a seat. With a pretty face like yours I'm sure you have a girl clawing to get in your season ticket seats."