* CURRENTLY EDITING.*
Luke Madden is a NHL superstar. But when an injury sidelines him, he's required to undergo physical therapy. With a stable family and girlfriend, Luke has all the resources he needs. Or so he thinks. As it turns out, there are...
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Luke
I register the voices before my eyes open.
"His knee looks okay. Aside from the minimal swelling and bruising. I can't tell if there's any internal damage, but I would hold off on any trips to the doctor. Luke's scheduled for an MRI this coming week. I'm sorry, Kate. I wish I could give you a better diagnosis. All I can suggest is icing the swollen area for fifteen-minute intervals and giving him some painkillers if he complains."
"Or is he doesn't," Kate scoffs.
Rosa makes a humming noise. "Don't worry, I'll kill him before you do."
A smile spreads across my lips. Rosa's here, which means this has to be a dream. Based on the last few weeks, we've kept things professional—she wouldn't be at my parents' house.
"Thank you, Miss Walker, for coming out to check on our son."
Confusion interferes with the blissful illusion of Rosa being present. So does a sharp stab of pain that radiates through my knee. Why the hell is Dad in the dream, too? I just want it to be me and Rosa, cuddling together on the couch while we read books.
Rosa clears her throat. "Please. Call me Rosa."
Someone snorts in the background. "Miss Walker."
"Emyln," Rosa sighs. "Now is not the time to joke around."
"I thought it was funny," Kate murmurs.
Stretching my body across the couch, I reach up and rub my tired eyes. I feel groggier than usual. When I open my eyes, I feel another wave of confusion, pursued by a wave of shock. Rosa is here. She's standing before me, her arms crossed, and she's wearing a short black dress. A diamond necklace hangs around her neck, the pendant resting at the hollow of her throat.
Surrounding her are Kate, Mom, Dad, Emyln, and a blonde woman I don't recognize. My eyes pass over each one, pausing on Kate and Emlyn. They're standing beside each other, discussing something in hushed voices. A low chuckle rumbles in my chest. "Shit. We better find a bunker to roost in until it's over."
Rosa's hard expression softens, but she still looks pissed.
Everyone else exchanges a confused look, aside from Mom. She reads the room and ushers everyone into the kitchen. Rosa and I stay silent, suspended in the living room. Their voices flitter down the hallway, and I hear someone mention ordering pizza. The whole time, Rosa's gaze stays locked with mine. Until the door to the patio opens and closes.
Rosa cocks an eyebrow, sighs, and pinches the bridge of her nose, glancing down. "Always with the humour, eh, Madden?"
There's a malicious hint in her tone. It's subtle—she sounds more exhausted than upset. A sheepish feeling washes over me. Not only is she using my last name as a jab, but she's also reprimanding me. Which I deserve. Hiding the pain I've been experiencing goes against everything I stand for. The purpose of physical therapy is to heal properly. I'm a seasoned hockey player and know how important healing from an injury is.
