Last Chance Christmas by Joanne Rock Read Free Book Online Page A

blanket. “Use this if you’re cold.”
    Draping the blanket around her shoulders, she burrowed into the fabric, not wanting to admit the real cause of her shiver.
    “Thank you.” She watched in silence as he cut away the old bandages.
    “If you want a tape job, ask a hockey player,” he reminded her, tearing off a section of gauze and wrapping it around the oozing wound.
    “Just keep in mind my foot is not a stick blade. I want to be able to still wiggle my toes when you’re done.”
    “Can do.” He used his teeth on the tape, a visual that took her right back to the stands where she used to watch him play.
    She’d watch him on the bench, taping his hockey stick before a game or before a shootout, his quick hands maneuvering around the blade even while he was carrying on a conversation with teammates or discussing game strategy with coaches. He’d always been a smart player in addition to his natural athleticism, adapting his play according to the competition while always staying true to what he did best on the ice.
    Her father had always admired that, raving that J.C. could “think” the game, not just play it. So Walt Walker admired him as a player. Just not as a boyfriend for her. Shea had never figured out if that was because her dad thought J.C. wasn’t right for her, or if Dad were more concerned she’d succeed in dissuading J.C. from the career he deserved. No doubt her father had played a role in J.C.’s decision to go to Minnesota instead of New York with her, like they’d planned.
    But J.C. hadn’t been a kid at the time. He’d made it clear the final decision had been his.
    “Why hasn’t Dad been opening the outdoor rink the last few years?” She asked, wondering why her mother hadn’t mentioned it to her. Besides, talking about hockey was a good way to distract herself from the pleasant sensations drifting up her leg whenever J.C.’s fingers brushed over her bare skin.
    “You’d have to ask him.” J.C. covered the gauze and tape with elastic bandages, wrapping her foot gently. “But a lot of people have missed it. I hope you consider sticking around to make that happen this year.”
    “Seems strange my uncles haven’t taken it on if Dad didn’t want to do it.” She hadn’t realized how much of an outcast she’d become, travelling the globe for her job, oblivious to the shifts in the Walker family.
    She knew, however, that depressive episodes came with chronic traumatic encephalopathy, the degenerative brain disease that plagued some professional athletes long after they left the game. Her uncle had been diagnosed with it a year ago, and her dad had played longer—suffering more concussions—than Will had. She worried about what that meant for his future. For her mother’s future.
    “What can I get for you out of your bag?” J.C. had finished his tape job and moved toward her suitcase. “Night clothes?”
    She hadn’t considered the practical necessities of getting ready for bed. She bit her lip, mentally running through a short list of personal hygiene chores and how to abbreviate them.
    “How about I leave you one of my shirts instead?” Crossing to the other side of the room he pulled a big tee from his bag and tossed it on the bed. “That will be easy to get into.”
    Except everything took five times as long with her injuries.
    He wandered toward the bed again. “Although if you want help undressing—”
    “No. Thanks anyway.”
    He grinned. “If you change your mind, I’ll be out on the couch so I’ll hear you if you need anything.” He flipped the light on in the bathroom. “I’m leaving a new toothbrush and some stuff out on the counter for you.”
    She could hear him banging cabinet doors and cleaning up. When he emerged, he carried a glass of water that he left on her nightstand along with a remote for the lights and television.
    “Thank you.” She was done giving him a hard time tonight when he’d actually been very thoughtful of her. “You