Read Online Knock Me for a Loop by Heidi Betts - Free Book Online Page A

into blankets and donated to the local VA hospital. He’d heard about the need for that sort of thing through a teammate whose wife volunteered around the city, and it had sounded like as good a way as any to pass the hours that had turned into days that had turned into weeks. After all, it wasn’t like he’d be back at practice or back on the ice anytime soon.
    He made another vicious stab at the yarn, then forced himself to take a breath and relax before he either broke the damn stuff or screwed up the consistency of his stitches.
    A knock at the door made him jerk, but only slightly. He didn’t get a lot of visitors these days, mostly because he was such a bear to be around, no one could stand him for very long.
    Even Magda, who got paid to come in once a week and clean up after him, kept a wide berth. She would make him a sandwich or something for lunch when she was around because she disapproved of his living off potato chips and delivery, but that was about it.
    Since Magda was in the kitchen running a load of dishes through the dishwasher and getting ready to take his dirty clothes down to his apartment building’s laundry room, he let her answer the door while he shoved his needles and the afghan square he was working on deep between the arm of his black leather sofa and its first overstuffed cushion.
    Knitting was a private hobby, and something he would prefer no one else—not even his closest friends—know about.
    If the media found out, it would be a public relations nightmare. His fellow Rockets would rib him endlessly, call him a pussy, a pansy, a eunuch, and worse. His fans would probably do the same, as well as losing respect for him and going as far as booing him when he skated onto the ice.
    If he ever skated onto the ice again.
    And if his friends—specifically Gage and Dylan—discovered his secret, then it would be even worse. Not that they’d tease him—at least not much—since they had both taken up a bit of knitting in one form or another over the past year and wouldn’t have a lot of room to talk.
    No, the worst part was that they would know why he’d taught himself to knit. They might not verbalize their thoughts, but they would know it was something he’d done after Grace left him in hopes of possibly winning her back …and they would pity him.
    Well, he didn’t need their pity.
    God, he was so sick of the sentiment, he wanted to vomit. First, Grace had left him and he’d been pitied for either being a cheating ass whose ex-girlfriend didn’t believe in pulling her punches…or because he’d moped around like some homeless, flea-ridden pup who had been kicked around too much and just wanted to go off somewhere to die.
    Yeah, he’d been that pathetic.
    Then he’d gone and made a bonehead move on the ice. He still wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened, but he was man enough to admit that his head hadn’t been in the game properly for months before the accident. He’d been distracted, hurt, annoyed, and phoning it in.
    The irony was that he’d just started to drag himself up, dust himself off, and get back to work, putting the entire mess with Grace behind him in an effort to help his team win game after game and once again make it to the playoffs.
    He’d been all over that game, blocking shot after shot to keep the other guys from scoring. And then something had just gone …wrong.
    Maybe he’d pushed himself too hard too fast. Maybe he’d overestimated his skills. Or maybe it was just one of those times when life threw a curveball, and there was nothing to do about it except look back and wish you’d done things differently.
    Whatever the case, he’d launched himself one way to keep the puck from making the net, his left leg had remained extended, and the player who had shot the puck to begin with had barreled into him full force.
    It hadn’t been pretty, according to witnesses. Luckily, he’d lost consciousness the minute his head hit the ice and didn’t remember