Over the next week, I start to fall into a grove of sorts.
I monitor and upload to TikTok in the morning, post to Instagram and Facebook later in the day, and then usually look over the traffic flow to the team’s official website before clocking out. There’s a rhythm to social media, a natural ebb and flow that viewers tend to follow, and after a few weeks of studying it, I’m pretty confident that I know exactly when our fans are online and when they aren’t.
I’ve had more success with TikTok than any of the other social media platforms, but for some reason, getting fans to use specific hashtags isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. Still, our numbers are increasing, with most of the accounts having grown exponentially in popularity since I was hired. My hard work is paying off and being recognized, and I feel as if I’ve really found my stride.
Everything is going great, which is why it’s so frustrating when my tooth begins to throb as I’m sitting in the stands of the practice rink, taking shots of the team running drills. I thought I felt some pain yesterday when I took a sip from a particularly cold glass of iced tea, but it didn’t linger, so I ignored it and went about my day.
Now the pain is back, and it’s sharper than ever. I grimace, sucking in a breath through my teeth.
This same tooth had some pain a couple of months ago, and when I went to the dentist, he told me I’d probably need a root canal. But then the company I was working for folded, I ended up without a job, and I got distracted by the grind of polishing up my resume and job hunting. The ache went away after a while, so I figured maybe it had gotten better on its own—but clearly I was wrong.
I move my jaw around a little, which sends little sparks of pain flying all over the right side of my face, and I end up missing a great photo opportunity as Noah sinks the puck into the net. I stop trying to take photos and send a text to my sister, who messaged me a few minutes ago to ask if I’m free this weekend to watch April for a couple hours.
ME: Not sure. I’d love to help if I can, but I’m having some pretty bad tooth pain.
She texts back almost immediately.
HEATHER: What? Did you ever go in and have that root canal?
ME: No. 🙁
HEATHER: I can’t believe you would put that off! These things can be really serious, Mar!
ME: I know, I know! But the pain went away, so I didn’t think it was really a big deal.
HEATHER: So suddenly you’re a dentist? You have to get it taken care of as soon as possible, or it’s just going to get worse.
I don’t answer for a few seconds, my focus pulled away by the sound of cheers. Someone just made another goal, but I don’t know who, and I’m mad at myself for not paying more attention to what I came here to do.
My sister tries to call me, and when I don’t pick up, she sends me another text.
HEATHER: Hey, I just tried to call. I’m serious, Mar. I know you get caught up in work stuff, but you need to make time for this.
ME: I know. Hang on, I’m at work. I have to get a few more photos, then I’ll step away and call you.
She starts to type something, then the three dots go away, and I don’t receive any new messages from her. I go back to taking photos, even though my jaw is still throbbing, and the pain has started to give me a tension headache. I breathe my way through it and get a few more semi-decent shots before Coach Dunaway calls the end of practice, then I hurry out into the hallway to call my sister.
She picks up right away.
“I just got off the phone with Dr. Reynolds,” she tells me, and I can tell she’s in full-on mother mode right now. “He can see you as early as Friday.”
I bite back a smile, wincing because that hurts too. Dr. Reynolds is the dentist Heather and I used to go to in Boulder when we were kids.
“Um, I’m pretty sure he’s a pediatric dentist,” I remind her. “I haven’t seen him in years. I have a different dentist here in Denver that I’m going to see. A very good one, I might add.”
“Well, he can’t be that good,” she argues. “If he just let you go weeks on end without calling and telling you to make an appointment for your root canal.”
“Yeah, well… about that. They did call. A few times. I never called back.”
“Margo!”
“What do you want from me? It all happened around the same time SheMoves went under, and I was busy. The pain went away, so I thought the problem went away too.”
She groans. “I get it. Just promise me you’re going to call them today, and get the earliest appointment they have. If you need me to drive you, that’s fine. I’ll make it work.”
I nod, then remember that she can’t see me. Which means I actually have to talk, even though it hurts every time I open my jaw too wide.
“Okay,” I say, trying to keep my jaw as stationary as possible. “I’ll make an appointment and let you know when it is. Because you’re right, I’ll probably need a ride. But I don’t want you to have to miss work or anything. If it’s not a good time for you, then I’ll ask Derek or Josh.”
“Good. Keep me posted.”
I hang up with Heather and call my dentist right away. Luckily, they have an opening on Friday as well, which is two days from now. I tell them I’ll take it, then end the call and put a reminder in my calendar.
A stray strand of hair tickles my face as I slip my phone into my pocket, and without thinking about it, I reach up to brush it away. In the process, I end up smacking the side of my cheek by accident, and the pain from my tooth radiates outward with shocking intensity. I let out a little yelp and glance around to see if anyone noticed.
Of course, someone did.
Noah.
He and the rest of the team are coming out of the locker room, and he makes his way over to me in a beeline, a look of concern on his face.
“Hey,” he says once he’s close enough. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine,” I tell him, smiling through the pain. Or trying to, at least. “Just some tooth pain, nothing to worry about.”
“Tooth pain?”
“Yeah. I have to go in for a root canal on Friday. No biggie. But I accidentally hit the side of my face just now, so if I look like I’m in agony… it’s because I am. But I’ll be okay.”
“Ouch.” He winces sympathetically. “Root canals are supposed to hurt pretty bad, aren’t they?”
“I think so,” I acknowledge, cradling the side of my face gently. “But I’ll probably get knocked out for it. I’ve always had a really hard time with dental work. I freaked out and barfed on my dentist when I was a kid. So now, for bigger procedures, I found a place that will give me the good stuff to keep me calm.”
“That’s good.” He nods, then furrows his brows as if something just occurred to him. “Who’s driving you?”
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t drive yourself if they’re going to put you under,” he points out. “So you’ll need someone to take you, and then someone to make sure you get home safely.”
“Oh.” My heart irrationally trips over itself as I shake my head. “My sister will do it. She’s just up north in Boulder, and so are my brothers. So if she can’t do it, I’ll beg one of them for a ride.”
“Boulder’s too far. I’ll drive you.”
“It’s nice of you to offer,” I stammer. “But really, it’s not a big deal. Heather can totally do it.” Then I frown, as it dawns on me that the time of my appointment will be right around when April is getting out of pre-K. “Although I guess she’ll have to bring my niece with her. Hopefully they have toys at the dentist’s office. Something to keep April entertained while they wait.”
“See, it’s already getting all complicated,” Noah says with a charming grin. “Why not just let me drive you? It’s the obvious solution. That way nobody has to come all the way from Boulder, and you won’t have to feel like you’re inconveniencing anyone.”
“But I’d be inconveniencing you.”
“Nothing about you could ever inconvenience me, Sunflower,” he tells me sincerely. His words knock me back on my heels a little, and as I’m working to recover my equilibrium, he adds, “Come on. Let me drive you. I’ve actually got nothing to do on Friday.”
“Liar.” I arch a brow at him. “I know your schedule.”
He gives me a flirtatious look. “Oh, you do, do you?”
“I know the whole team’s schedule,” I point out, rolling my eyes. “It helps to know where you’ll all be so that I can track you down for a photo or something when I need to.”
“Well, if you know my schedule so well, then you should know that besides practice, I have nothing going on Friday that can’t be easily moved around.” He smiles and lowers his voice a little. “Just let me do this for you. Please?”
He’s staring at me with those gorgeous blue eyes that are nearly impossible to resist, and I really don’t have any good reason not to accept his help. So finally, I nod and relent.
“Alright,” I tell him. “You can drive me.”
The next two days are rough. I can hardly eat, and even sucking on a straw to get down my homemade smoothies is painful. Because of this, I find myself under-eating, which makes me groggy and distracted at work. I’m underperforming, to say the least.
On Friday morning, Ted takes pity on me and tells me to go home.
“You were going to leave a little early for the root canal anyway,” he says when I begin to protest. “And in all honesty, you look completely miserable. Go home, get some rest, and we’ll see you on Monday. If you’re feeling better, that is. If you need more time, please take it.”
Feeling incredibly lucky to have found a job where there’s enough flexibility to allow for this sort of thing, I duck out of the office and head out to my car.
Later that afternoon, Noah texts me, asking where he should pick me up. I send him my address but ignore a follow-up text from him in which he flirtatiously lets me know that he’s going to keep the address tucked away just in case he needs it in the future.
By the time he calls me to say that he’s on his way, I’m almost looking forward to the root canal, which is something I never thought I’d say. But if it gets rid of this agonizing pain, I’ll gladly let the dentist do whatever he wants.
I head downstairs a few minutes later, and when I step outside, I see a black Mercedes G-Class approaching my building. The passenger side window rolls down as the vehicle comes to a stop.
“Your chariot awaits, my lady,” Noah drawls, smiling broadly. He’s changed out of his hockey gear into street clothes, a pair of worn jeans and a long-sleeved Henley. The sleeves of his shirt are pushed up just a little, showcasing his muscular forearms.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice a bit muffled as I keep my jaw clamped shut.
I climb into the car and buckle up as he fiddles around with the heat and the radio, all the while looking at me as if he’s interested in my input.
“Do you have a music preference? Is it too hot?” he asks.
Shaking my head, I close my eyes and lean back against the seat. “It’s all perfect. Honestly, I can’t really focus on anything right now. I just want to get to the dentist so he can knock me out, and I can finally get a break from this stupid pain.”
“Sorry, Sunflower.” He winces sympathetically. “To the dentist we go.”
He reaches over and squeezes my knee gently, and despite what I just told him about not being able to focus on anything, I’m hyper-aware of the warmth of his palm.
I tell him the address, and he lets go of my knee as he enters it into the car’s GPS before pulling away from the curb. We drive in silence for a short while, then Noah glances over at me.
“Are you nervous?” he asks.
I cut my gaze sideways, taking in the strong lines of his face. “Yeah, I am. Hopefully I won’t remember much of it, but I’ve always been a bit scared of root canals.”
He nods, signaling before changing lanes. “I’ve never had one personally, but a guy I used to play hockey with had to have two at the same time, and the way he described it? It didn’t sound pleasant, I’ll say that.”
“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?”
Noah laughs. “Well, you didn’t let me finish. Even though I’ve never had a root canal, I have had a bunch of other dental procedures. As you can imagine, I’ve gotten a couple teeth knocked out, and I’m not sure there’s a tooth left in my skull that hasn’t been at least chipped.” As we come to a red light, he pulls the side of his mouth open and shows me one of his back molars.
“Ya see tha?”
“Huh?”
He lets go of his mouth so he can talk normally. “I asked if you could see that. I have one less molar on the bottom. Both sides.”
“You got your back molars knocked out?” I make a face. “In the middle of a game? That must’ve been a really hard hit.”
“No.” He chuckles, reaching over to brace his hand on the back of my headrest. “Those two, they took out on purpose when I was a kid. For some reason, there just wasn’t enough room on the bottom for all my teeth, so they had to take out the two back ones. That way, the rest of my adult teeth would come in normally and not be all crooked and wonky.”
“Oof,” I murmur, rubbing my jaw lightly.
“But, you know, my parents,” he goes on. “They’ve always been very concerned with appearances, so when my dentist told them I needed to have those teeth pulled, all they cared about was whether taking them out would make me look weird. It actually made my smile look better, though, so it was all good. Flash forward to high school, when I was getting more serious about hockey, and I lost one of my canines after getting hit in the face with the puck.”
I hiss out a breath, wincing at the thought. Suddenly, my root canal doesn’t sound that bad after all.
“Oh, yeah.” Noah draws out the words. “That hurt. Bad. But the first question my mom asked when they rushed me to the ER was ‘you can fix his smile, right? He’s not going to look like that forever, is he?’ She wasn’t concerned with how much blood I was losing, or if the puck had damaged my jaw at all. She just wanted to make sure I would have a perfect smile in time for our Christmas card photo shoot a few weeks later.”
“Yikes.”
He chuckles ruefully. “Yup.”
It’s a little chillier in the car than I thought at first, and I wrap my arms around myself as we stop at another light. Without taking his eyes off the road, Noah reaches down and turns the heat up a little, adjusting the vents so that more warm air is directed toward me.
I blink, surprised by the almost unconscious gesture. A new song starts to play through the speakers, and we lapse into silence as he drives the last few blocks to my dentist’s office.
Noah keeps catching me off-guard with the smallest little things. He has a way of making me feel better, even when I’m in so much pain that I feel like my head is about to split open. As much as I try to deny the chemistry we have, and the way he makes me feel when it’s just the two of us alone, there’s no denying the fact that he went out of his way to help me this afternoon.
And that means a lot to me.
He parks the car, and as he cuts the engine, I realize I’ve been staring at his profile for the last twenty seconds or so. I quickly rip my gaze away from him and peer out at the brick building ahead of us.
“You ready to go in?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, but the word comes out a little squeaky, betraying my nerves.
“Hey.” His voice softens as he turns to face me. “It’s going to be okay, Sunflower. You’ve got this. You’re tough. You survived that elevator malfunction, remember? And you’re not even afraid of flying, which means you’re basically one of the bravest people in the world, in my book.”
A laugh bursts out of me, reminding me to breathe again, and I nod. “Okay… yeah. I can do this.”
“You can totally do it,” he agrees. Then he takes my hand in his and squeezes my fingers. When I look back at him, he brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my knuckles gently. “And I’ll be waiting to take you home the second you’re done. Sound good?”
My skin tingles, sparks dancing up my arm from the place where his lips meet my knuckles and seeming to spread throughout my entire body. It’s just a tiny touch, the most G-rated kind of contact there is, but it feels like more somehow. It takes me a moment to get my heart rate back under control, so I end up letting him hold on for a second or two longer than I mean to. Then I pull my hand back and reach for the door handle.
“I’ll see you in an hour or so,” I say, opening the door and stepping out of the car. “Thanks again.”
“Of course.” He ducks his head, giving me a little wave. “Good luck. Not that you’re gonna need it.”
I glance over my shoulder before walking into the building, then straighten my spine and step inside.
A cheerful woman at the front desk greets me, giving me a bit of paperwork to fill out and confirming that someone will be giving me a ride home afterward.
As I check in for my appointment, I can’t tell how many of the butterflies flapping in my stomach are because I’m about to get a root canal… and how many of them showed up the moment Noah curled his fingers around mine and reminded me of what it feels like to be touched by him.
