Heartless Player by R.C. Stephens

Four

Wolfe

“This is your idea of training?” I ask the trainer I’ve been assigned.

“We need to take things slow. You just got your cast off yesterday,” he says.

This is bullshit. I came to the gym ready to put the work in, but this guy thinks that a full body massage is all I need. It felt great, but I need to do more.

“What’s going on here?” Assistant Coach Cooper asks.

“How am I supposed to get back on the ice if my therapy is consisting of nothing but a full body massage?”

Coach Cooper looks between me and the trainer. “Give us a moment,”

he says.

The trainer nods and walks off.

Coach Cooper looks at me with eyes filled with sympathy, and I don’t like it one bit. “Wolfe, I get that you want to get back on the ice, but you know injuries are a part of being a professional player, and if you rush things it isn’t going to end well,” he says.

“This wasn’t an injury. It was an attack,” I bite out.

“Even so. We want you back on the ice. We’re hoping for sooner rather than later,” he says. There’s a freshman named Bozeman who’s taken my spot. I don’t want him to think it was permanently.

“I’m hoping to make my comeback soon. I’m ready to put in the work,” I say.

“I respect your drive,” Coach says, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Just take things slow. The Frozen Four is coming up, but we have some important games to play first. The team still needs you to lead them. We also want you to come back strong,” he says. “I know you don’t have plans to draft. But we need you to help win the championship.”

“I want to be there too, and I want the championship so badly I can taste it,” I say.

“Then take the time and heal properly. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen players anxious to get back on the ice. You do it too soon and you can end your career. Even if you don’t want to go into the draft, you don’t want a lifelong injury either,” he says.

“Fine, Coach, you’re right.” I sigh. My mind drifts to Rebel and how I admitted to her that I didn’t know what I want. What is it about her that makes me want to talk?

“Hang in there, Wolfe. Your generation doesn’t understand the meaning of patience, but it’s a virtue best learned early on,” he says. Coach Cooper has been with the Westfall Dragons for decades now. He’s seen his share of athletes and watched them enter the draft and make it to the NHL. He knows what he’s saying.

“Thanks, Coach.”

“Don’t thank me. Just be patient. Let the professionals do their thing and let’s get you back on the ice,” he says.

I nod. “Okay.” Some of the tension I was feeling melts away. I still have time to leave my mark.

Some of the guys from the team have come to work out and I say hi to them, itching to do my own weightlifting too. Instead, I take a walk around, limping on my leg. I still have pain. I spot Rebel helping one of the elderly people she was talking about.

“Okay, Mr. Townsel, let’s see how you get yourself up now,” she says, and from a distance, I check her out. She’s confident here in the gym. Like this is her safe place. She also looks pretty damn hot in a pair of tight leggings. She’s got nice sized tits and a slim figure with a nice ass. My gaze drops lower to her leg and I wonder what happened to her. I don’t focus on her leg for long, though, because I watch as she smiles at the elderly man. She’s pretty, with deep blue eyes and long blonde hair. I wonder what it would look like if she didn’t have it tied up all the time. I bet she would look sexy as hell with it falling over her shoulders. Whoa. Where did that thought come from? She is definitely not my type. I give my head a good shake and move on. Only I don’t move on very far. I continue to watch her interaction.

The older man turns on his side. Rebel tells him what a good job he’s doing following and remembering all the steps. He gets himself up and stands. Then he claps his hands and Rebel claps too.

A girl like her should be popular. From this angle, the bench hides her leg and she just looks normal. Beautiful.

She spots me watching her and her cheeks flush. It’s funny that I like to make her blush. She clearly doesn’t get out much and something about her shyness intrigues me. The girls I meet know exactly what they want and aren’t hesitant to take it. I like a woman who is in control and says what she wants, but also leaves little to the imagination. Rebel is different in a good way. I’d sleep with her and pass her off to the next guy like I would any other girl. But a girl like Rebel would never put up with that, and she probably deserves more than the puck bunnies who like to hang around our house waiting to get a piece of us. I’m sure the guys and I have slept with many of the same girls for that exact reason.

She says goodbye to Mr. Townsel and Coach Cooper calls her over. I also see the dude from the Coffee Bean last night. It was obvious he was into her and she was completely oblivious. In fact, something tells me Rebel is not only oblivious to guys wanting her but also to her looks. My gaze drops to her bow-shaped lips, then moves to her creamy exposed shoulders. Stop it! Why am I obsessing about this girl? The way she keeps her head ducked and her gaze low, it’s like she would rather be invisible. My attention is the last thing she needs.

“Hey, man.” Cole comes up and stands beside me. “How did training go?”

“It sucked ass. They gave me a damn massage,” I say.

“Was it a hot chick giving the massage?” he asks.

“No, it was an old dude, and that isn’t the point. Anyways, it doesn’t matter. Coach said I have to take it slow. I have no choice,” I grumble.

Cole follows my gaze and realizes I’m watching Rebel. He looks at me. “You can’t tell me you’re into her,” he says, wrinkling his nose.

“No.” I shrug. “Of course I’m not.” But I seriously think I may be into her.

“Okay, because like that would be totally messed up if you were,” he says.

“I’m not,” I say, as if the thought of Rebel repels me, but then I pause. “Why would it be messed up?”

Cole huffs and rolls his eyes but doesn’t give me an answer.

I don’t see why it would be messed up anyway. She’s the most real person I’ve met in a while. When she talks to me it feels genuine. I wouldn’t just be a fuck that she could brag to her friends about.

“I’m going to press,” Cole says and walks away.

I wait for him to be on the other side of the gym and then make my way over to Rebel.

“Hey,” I say to her. She’s wearing a tight black tank top and a pair of long leggings.

“Hi. How did your therapy session go?” she asks.

“Not well,” I say and tell her what happened.

“Well, you can still continue to work your upper body. Keep yourself strong,” she says.

“I’ve been working on that, but it isn’t the same.” I know I’m pouting like a little boy, but damn, I’ve had to be in peak condition since I was five. This is bullshit.

“You’ve got to work with what you’ve got,” she says and then clears her throat and looks briefly down at her leg. I wish she would stop being so self-conscious. It’s clearly only a small part of who she is.

“You’re right,” I say, feeling embarrassed about my reaction to my injury when she had to deal with losing a limb. “You got any exercises you can show me?”

She stares at me with a blank look on her face. “Rebel?”

“Sorry, what? Can you repeat that?” she asks with a shy smile.

“Can you show me some exercises to increase upper body strength?” I ask.

I’m wearing a sleeveless Nike shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. I watch her throat bob as her gaze sweeps over my body. She’s into me. I know when a girl gives me that look.

“Sure. Follow me,” she says, and I follow her, allowing my gaze to drop to her fine ass as she makes her way over to a machine. She gets on and shows me what to do, paying attention to proper posture. She must only be around five foot five, but her arms are strong as I watch them work against the weights.

I get on the machine next and she brings the bar close to me. With her standing this close I take in the scent of strawberries. I also take in her nice rack. Not too big, but not small either. I bet each breast would fit just perfectly in the palm…

“Wolfe?” she asks with a questioning look, and I’m caught staring eye-level at her girls. “Shit, sorry,” I say. But I’m not really sorry.

She blushes.

A bunny named Tiffany saunters over to us. “Looking good, Wolfe,” she purrs.

“Thanks, Tiffany,” I say, but I keep my eyes trained on Rebel.

“I’m a kinesiology major too. If you need tips, I’m more than happy to be of assistance,” she says, standing really close to Rebel. Her words and seductive gaze carry so much insinuation, I’m surprised she isn’t trying to suck me off right here. Tiffany is a hot number in her sports bra top that presses her breasts together and doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Not that I need to imagine. I’ve had my face between her breasts before.

Rebel takes a step back, and Tiffany runs her finger down my arm. It’s supposed to be a turn on but makes me cringe, like when my grade school teacher Ms. Humphrey would accidentally run her long red nails along the chalk board when she was erasing the board.

“I’ll go help another player,” Rebel says, getting ready to walk away. For some reason, I think her use of the word player has a double meaning.

Tiffany grins.

Without thinking, I reach out and gently grasp Rebel’s arm. “If you don’t mind, I’d like your help.”

Rebel’s throat bobs and she looks like she wants to bolt. Tiffany’s jaw drops.

“Fine, I’ll catch you this weekend, Wolfe.” Tiffany winks before strutting off.

“Sorry about that,” I say to Rebel.

She watches me blankly and I wonder what she’s thinking. I hate that people just feel like they can push her around and she doesn’t retaliate.

“It’s fine.” She finally waves me off.

“Okay, so let’s get to work,” she says, sounding all professional. I follow her over to the dumbbells.

She passes me two fifteen-pound weights. “Do those feel okay?”

“Sure, but I can do more than fifteen pounds. My sister’s dog Fluffy weighs more than that.”

“What kind of dog is Fluffy?” she asks.

“She’s a Bichon Frise, but she’s a bit on the heavy side.” I grin.

“I want you to focus on doing more reps not lifting something that will burn you out too soon,” she explains.

“Got it,” I say.

Rebel takes a light weight and shows me the exercise she wants me to do. She lifts the dumbbells over her head in a circular motion until they meet above and come down to shoulder level.

I follow her.

“Much lighter than Fluffy,” I say, lifting the weights.

“Fine. We can change them out for something heavier on the next rep,” she says.

She switches out my weights and I start counting. “Must be nice to have a dog. Growing up I always wanted a dog but…” She blushes.

“What?” I ask.

“I didn’t mean to say that. I’m talking too much,” she says.

“I like talking to you,” I say, surprising myself. “Now, tell me what you wanted to say.”

“It’s no big deal. Just the way I grew up, a dog wasn’t in the cards for me,” she says, and I see a heaviness cloud over her eyes.

“That’s too bad. Fluffy drifted to my sister Cait the moment we got her, but she always made time for me too. Dogs are fun,” I say.

“Yeah, maybe one day,” she says with a far-off look.

“How many more of these do I got to do?” I ask, panting and out of breath.

“That’s enough. Let’s change it up,” she says.

One of her instructors comes over and she explains my goals and what plan she has recommended to me. The instructor praises her. She’s clearly passionate about her work.

She walks away from me and I find myself watching her with interest. She’s hot, yeah, but there’s more to her. The guy who works at the Coffee Bean walks over to me, pauses, and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He’s just as tall as I am, but I’ve got an extra thirty pounds of muscle on him.

“Rebel is a good person. She isn’t the type you sleep with and don’t talk to the next day,” he says, his tone carrying a warning.

So my reputation has spread to the guys too. I had a feeling this guy was into her.

“I know that,” I say, like it’s obvious.

“Then leave her alone,” he says curtly.

Got to hand it to the guy, he has balls.

“Easy there, bud,” I say. “I don’t do well with people telling me what to do.”

“You’re an asshole. Just leave Rebel alone,” he says and walks off.

He isn’t wrong. I am an asshole, and I should definitely leave Rebel alone. If only I weren’t so drawn to her.