Chapter 50: The Clinic
Leo
The Glacier Dome lived up to its name, though it was starkly different from how I usually viewed it on television.
The home of the Northern Avalanche was a masterpiece of glass and steel, but the only thing I truly hated about it was the temperature. Oakwood City was unusually cold, which was precisely why I had never considered living here.
I hugged my body tightly as I stepped off the team bus that had transported us from the airport. The moment we arrived at the dome, the boys piled out, seemingly unaffected by the sub-zero climate.
Even those wearing significantly fewer layers than I was didn’t look bothered. I, however, was gritting my teeth as it felt like the air was trying to crystallize inside my lungs.
Then, I felt a heavy jacket draped around my shoulders. I immediately hugged it closer to my chest, warming up immediately.
"Thank—" I started to say, but the word died when I felt the massive frame looming behind me, followed closely by the familiar scent of cedarwood. It was Miller.
"Cold?" he asked, his voice far too close to my ear.
I stiffened, the pragmatic part of my brain immediately calculating the thermal transfer and the social implications of wearing a Center’s jacket in front of the entire team.
I adjusted my glasses, which were already beginning to fog, and turned my head just enough to catch his smug expression.
"The human body is not biologically designed to thrive in a literal icebox, Miller," I replied and sniffled. "Hypothermia begins when the core temperature drops below 35°C, and given my current lack of subcutaneous fat compared to your excessive muscle mass, my metabolic rate is struggling to maintain homeostasis. It isn’t a matter of being ’cold’; it’s a matter of basic thermodynamics."
I pulled the lapels of his jacket tighter, despite my lecture. "However, since you’ve clearly evolved to possess the insulation of a polar bear, I suppose your surplus body heat is a temporary medical necessity. Don’t expect a thank-you note."
Miller gave me a questioning look, a slow, annoying chuckle vibrating in his chest. "Oh Doc, you and your science nonsense. I don’t need to hear all of that. You’re cold, I’m warm. Simple."
"Maybe if you prioritized cognitive development over bicep circumference, you would understand that—" My words were cut short as Kayden joined us. He didn’t say a word, but he threw a pointed, mischievous wink at me, his eyes darting to the oversized jacket hanging off my frame.
I glared at him, the heat in my cheeks having nothing to do with the Oakwood wind. I was about to defend my integrity when Coach Reddick’s voice resounded in the dome.
"Listen up, everyone! I don’t care if you have jet lag—go rest for an hour and come back for training. We have a game to win tomorrow!"
A chorus of groans erupted from the team, the sound of exhausted athletes protesting the inevitable.
"And don’t complain because you spent the six-hour flight sleeping! Run along, and I better see you all on the ice in an hour!" Reddick barked, his face set in a mask of pure authority. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Coach!" they chorused, the discipline of the league overriding their fatigue.
They began hauling their suitcases toward the heavy glass doors of the dome, with Rhys leading the pack like a man on a mission; after all, he was their captain. Kayden and Miller, who were by my side, soon joined them.
"Catch you later, Doc," Miller said, throwing one last wink at me before disappearing into the building.
It was only when he was halfway inside that the realization hit me. I was still draped in his jacket. The cedarwood scent was now clinging to my skin.
I opened my mouth to call out to him, to return the jacket, but Coach Reddick appeared in front of me before I could make a sound.
He pointed toward a specific wing of the building. "The team’s manager has already set up a lab for you. Please, come this way, Doctor."
I closed my mouth, tightened my grip on the handle of my suitcase, and followed him.
Coach Reddick led me toward the left wing, explaining the specifics of my employment as we walked.
"You are here as their personal physician. I’ve already sent their medical files over to your office," he informed me as we took a sharp turn to the left. "The previous physician was the one who recommended you, and I truly hope you can keep the boys in peak health. You’ll basically be conducting monthly tests on them to monitor when the Alphas go into their ruts so the game schedule won’t be affected. I hope you do well, Doctor Leo," he said, coming to a stop in front of a building with a sign that simply read ’Clinic’ at the top.
"If you can, try to work alongside their dietician and physiotherapist, though they only come in once in a while." He explained the expectations, and I nodded a silent response.
He took a step forward, but before he could reach for the door, it swung open from the inside.
A man who looked no older than forty—though the faint wrinkles on his neck suggested he might be more—stepped forward wearing a sharp brown suit.
"Welcome, Doctor Leo. The name is Elton, the Northern Avalanche General Manager, and I will be taking over the tour now from Coach Reddick."
"Of course, Elton," Coach replied, stepping aside to let the manager take the lead. "See you around." He tapped me on the shoulder and then turned around to leave.
"This way, Dr. Leo," Elton said, gesturing toward the interior of the building. "When I heard a new doctor was coming, I expected someone..." He paused, giving me a long, calculating look from head to toe.
I already knew exactly what he was about to say, so I decided to finish the thought for him.
"Younger?" I interjected for him, letting out a small chuckle. "I get that a lot, but I suppose that’s just what happens when you’re burdened with a pretty high IQ," I boasted, flashing a confident grin at him.
Elton shifted his gaze, his expression tightening as he forced a strained smile onto his face. I could tell right then and there that he didn’t like me—not even a little bit.
We passed through the wide corridors and into the heart of the medical wing, where the scent of sterile equipment and expensive air conditioning hit me. "This will be your domain," Elton said, waving a hand toward the waiting room.
It was far too luxurious for a simple clinic, filled with plush, charcoal-grey seating that looked like it was designed to accommodate the heavy frames of professional Alphas. The walls were adorned with framed jerseys and action shots of the Northern Avalanche.
Beyond the waiting area, he led me into the office. It was spacious, dominated by a heavy mahogany desk and a window that overlooked the training rink, giving me a perfect view of the ice.
It felt more like a CEO’s suite than a doctor’s office, but I wasn’t complaining; I could definitely get used to the view.
Tucked away in the back was the lab, and that was where my eyes truly lit up. It was a masterpiece of modern science, packed with top-of-the-line centrifuges, blood analyzers, and row after row of pristine glass vials.
This was where the real work would happen—where I’d be tracking those ruts and monitoring the team’s health. It was cold, clean, and perfectly equipped to handle the most chaotic Alphas and Betas on the roster.
Once Elton had finished showing me the high-tech equipment, he paused and turned to me with that same stiff posture. "Do you like the place, Doctor? Is it up to your standards?"
"It’ll do just fine," I replied, trying to sound as unimpressed as he was, though secretly I was already mentally organizing the lab.
He then led me to a surprisingly spacious living suite connected to the medical wing. It was large enough that I wouldn’t feel cramped, even with the long hours I knew were coming. "You’ll stay here. It’s better for the team if their physician is always on hand," Elton informed me.
He stepped toward the doorway but stopped to add one more thing. "The files for the entire team, including the rookies, are already on your desk. Also, you won’t be working alone. Two assistants will be joining you tomorrow."
My eyes widened at the mention of assistants. My mind immediately flashed to Kayden—the last thing I needed was more people in my space, especially if they were going to be conducting the tests with me. "I don’t need assistants, Elton. I’ll do just fine on my own," I insisted.
Elton didn’t even blink as he spoke. "It’s not a request, Doctor. It’s orders from above. Please kindly settle in. And lastly, romantic relationships between you and the players are highly forbidden."
He turned and left before I could argue further.
Romantic relationships? With an athlete? I’d rather strangle myself.