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The crowd that greeted them in the hotel wasn’t the press, but rather the coaches and players of the Badgers, cheering when their fallen heroes walked

safely through the doors.

After touching Dylan almost reverently, as if she were the very goddess her name inspired, the players crowded around Cat, hugging her tightly and teasing

her mercilessly—their way of whistling past the graveyard.

Caulley looked apologetically at Dylan after giving her a quick hug. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I couldn’t get them to bed down.”

“Been up all night?”

Caulley yawned. “Pretty much, yeah. When your flight was late, Mac started calling around. We didn’t get confirmation of the crash, and your rescue, until

a couple of hours ago. By then, they were all too wired.”

“We could talk to the league about postponing the game,” Mac suggested, sidling up behind the small group.

Dylan gave the idea serious, if brief, consideration. Then she shook her head. “Nah. They’ve got too much energy that they need to burn off.”

“I could give them the practice from hell,” Caulley retorted, eyes glinting with an almost sadistic light.

Dylan smirked. “I’m sure you could, but….” She paused as Cat turned to her, expression almost pleading. “…I think we’ll just go ahead. See if you can coax

‘em into a couple hours’ shut eye at least, then we’ll set up for a light practice before the game. See what happens.”

Caulley nodded. “I can do that.” She lifted her head. “Alright, ladies, the party’s over. Everyone back to their rooms. Now,” she ordered to forestall the

expected protests. Shoulders slumped, the players filed back onto the elevators, leaving Mac, Dylan, Kelly Norton, and Cat behind.

Mac looked at the small group. “I…uh…put you and Cat in the room adjoining Dylan’s, Kelly. I figured you guys would want to…talk…or whatever.”

Norton grinned. “Better hope I never tell your wife what a sweetie you are, Mac. You’ll never hear the end of it.”

The others chuckled as Mac blushed hotly, fingering his collar and clearing his throat. “I, um…I….didn’t…..”

Laughing, the physician clapped the huge man on his massive back. “Just teasing, my friend. Seriously, though, thanks. The closer space will let me check

over my patients’ injuries. So, good job and all that kinda stuff.”

“Thanks.” The blush still hadn’t receded. “So…I’ll see you guys later, then?”

“Count on it.”

The room was cool, dim, and comfortable. Cat groaned as she dropped her duffle on the side of one of the double beds and pulled down the spread. The

soft whiteness beneath seemed to be calling her name, and she moved toward it willingly, until another voice, this one much sharper, broke into the

fantasy.

“C’mon, shortchange. I need to check your sutures.”

Groaning, Cat stamped her foot like a petulant child, and turned to the figure leaning against the doorjam that separated the two adjoining rooms. “Can’t

you do it here?”

Norton grinned. “Nope. Light’s better in here. And besides, Dylan’s here and I’d rather just kill two birds with one stone, if you don’t mind. Some of us didn’t

get a chance to nap on the way over.”

“Oh, alright.” Sighing, Cat followed the doctor into Dylan’s well lit room and sat down on the massive king-sized bed, careful not to jostle Dylan, who was

already laying down, injured leg unbraced and propped up on several pillows.

“Ouch,” Cat hissed, eyeing the lurid bruise that covered Dylan’s leg from mid thigh almost to her ankle. “Damn, that’s ugly.”

“Doesn’t feel all that pretty either,” Dylan bit off, shifting her weight in the bed as waves of angry pain rolled through the joint as if a hornet’s nest had

taken up residence inside her knee. Her thigh and calf were cramping to beat the band, adding to the agony.

“Anything I can do?”

“Yeah,” Norton replied, frustrated at her limited ability. “How are you at digging out Charley Horses? She’s cramping up bad but she can’t put weight on

that leg.”

“I’ve done a few in my time,” Cat allowed.

“Alright, but make sure you don’t flex her foot and stretch the Achilles.”

“Damn, well, that’ll make it a little harder, but….” She looked up at Dylan and received a short nod in return. “Okay. Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“Believe me, it won’t hurt any worse than it does now,” Dylan grunted, both hands grabbing fistfuls of blanket and squeezing tight. “Just do it.”

Stiffening her fingers, Cat dug into the cramp, grunting with the effort. She hadn’t been lying when she said that she had some experience with calf

cramps, but she’d never had to try and soften one in a leg as muscled as Dylan’s. It was like trying to dig into solid rock. “I’m sorry,” she murmured when

Dylan flinched.

“’sokay. Just keep at it,” the coach replied through gritted teeth.

The next several minutes were spent in tense silence as Cat’s strong fingers worked deep into the muscle, probing and massaging until the cramp finally,

mercifully, began to loosen. She gentled her touches then, squeezing and releasing Dylan’s leg to make sure huge knot didn’t return. Feeling the tension