Chapter 4

The glass doors of the primary medical wing slid open with a soft mechanical hiss. Maya stood in the middle of the clean room, surrounded by diagnostic equipment, physical therapy machines, and wall-mounted monitors. After the nightmare of her morning encounter with Logan, she had spent twenty minutes in the staff restroom trying to pull herself together. She had run cold water over her wrists and straightened the collar of her dark navy scrubs. She was a physician, and she had dealt with combative patients in the Mass General trauma bay. She wasn't about to let an arrogant, cold blooded hockey captain intimidate her in her own clinic. A sharp knock sounded against the doorframe and Logan Blackwood stepped inside. He had changed into a clean gray Boston Wolves training shirt and dark athletic pants. His hair was dry now, combed neatly away from his face, and his expression was just as unreadable as before. He held a thick black tablet in one hand, his body was stiff and he didn't look at her face. His gray eyes briefly dropped to the ID badge pinned to her chest before settling on the wall behind her. "Cater." He said coldly. "Mr Blackwood," Maya replied, keeping her own voice calm. She pointed toward the examination table in the center of the room. "Please, take a seat. We need to complete your baseline physical and update your medical clearance before the preseason opener." Logan didn't move. He remained near the entrance, keeping a good six feet between them. "I don't need a physical," he said, tapping something on his tablet. "My previous clearances are on file. Dr Vance took my vitals three weeks ago. You only need to sign the digital authorization form on your desktop so I can get back on the ice." Maya pulled a pair of sterile gloves from the wall dispenser and snapped them over her wrists. "Dr Vance is no longer your primary physician. I am. Hospital policy, as well as league protocol, requires a full physical assessment from the attending physician before an active player takes the ice." Logan gave a quiet scoff. "You've been in this building for less than two hours, Dr Carter. You don't know the roster or my medical history, and you certainly don't know how this facility works." He finally looked at her. The intensity in his gaze was difficult to ignore. It was the kind of stare that would make people to back down. "I was told management hired an ER resident," Logan continued, his voice turning sharper. "A decision I strongly advised against. I don't have time to play pretend with someone whose entire career has been spent stitching up drunk college students and handing out antibiotics." Heat rose in Maya's chest but she didn't let it show. Instead, she picked up a metal clipboard from the desk and tapped her pen against its edge. "My qualifications were reviewed by the board and Chief Medical Director Vance," she said calmly, meeting his eyes. "And while my experience in trauma medicine means I'm more than qualified to check your heart rate and reflexes, it also means I don't put my name on a medical clearance without examining the patient myself." "I am not a standard patient,” Logan snapped. "You are an athlete under my care," Maya replied. She took one step toward him. "And right now, you're standing between me and doing my job. Sit on the table, Mr Blackwood." Logan's jaw tightened and a muscle jumped near his cheekbone. The room seemed to go still as he stared down at her, clearly not used to someone refusing to give in to him, especially someone half his size. "If you refuse the exam," Maya continued, lifting her chin, "I'll mark you as uncleared for practice today. The league front office will receive the notification within five minutes, and you won't step onto that ice." Silence filled the room as Logan's eyes narrowed. For three long seconds, Maya wondered if he would simply walk out and leave the consequences to everyone else. Instead, he breathed out sharply through his nose. "Fine,” the word came through clenched teeth. "Five minutes. Do what you need to do, sign the paper, and get the f**k out of my way." He walked toward the examination table, his movements were controlled as he sat on the edge and pulled his arms close to his body, his posture stiff. Maya moved closer and took the stethoscope from around her neck. "I need to listen to your lungs and heart." The moment she raised the chest piece, she noticed the slight change in him as Logan leaned back. His eyes followed her hands when she pressed the cold diaphragm against his chest through his shirt, he shifted just enough to keep her fingers from brushing his skin or neck. Maya noticed. *He isn't just standoffish. He doesn't want to be touched.* "Breathe in," she instructed. He did as she asked, his chest expanding beneath the shirt, but his eyes stayed fixed ahead. When she checked his pulse at his wrist through the sleeve of his athletic shirt, it was steady and strong. Surprisingly slow, too. The resting heart rate of someone in excellent physical condition. Everything about him was physically impressive. Yet his muscles remained tense beneath her hands. He sat rigidly, barely breathing whenever her gloved hand came close to his shoulder to adjust the stethoscope. "Deep breath out," she said. He exhaled slowly. "Are we finished?" Maya removed the stethoscope from her ears and let it settle around her neck. She stepped back, giving him the distance he clearly wanted, then removed her gloves and dropped them into the biohazard bin. "Your heart rate and lung sounds are clear,” she walked over to her computer and opened his profile. After pulling up the league clearance document, she signed her name across the digital pad. "You're cleared for practice." Logan stood immediately the second Maya turned away, putting several feet between them. He straightened his shirt and picked up his tablet, his face settling back into the same unreadable expression he'd worn when he entered. He headed toward the glass doors. "I don't know what Arthur had promised to bring you here, Dr Carter," Logan said quietly as he stopped at the door. Then he turned his head just enough to look at her from the corner of his eye. "You won't last a month here."