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Diagnostoc Bench

Penulis: Sommy Writes
last update Tanggal publikasi: 2026-07-18 13:19:00

The Rogers Arena in Vancouver was maintained at an air temperature of exactly sixty-two degrees, which was apparently the standard municipal setting for hosting highly overpaid athletes on a frozen sheet of thirty-two-degree water.

​The acoustic pressure inside the geometric dome had reached ninety-eight decibels. It was a level of auditory pollution that was currently vibrating my cerebral cortex and making me seriously question the developmental choices that had led me to a career in professi
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  • The Hockey Captain’s Curvy Obsession   The New Routine

    The next morning was quiet at the mountain compound. Sunlight came through the tall windows, casting a soft glow across the kitchen.I walked downstairs in a comfortable oversized sweater and leggings. Rhys was already in the kitchen, wearing gray sweatpants and a t-shirt. He had a tray ready on the counter with scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and a cup of warm tea.The moment he heard my footsteps, he turned around. His eyes softened, a warm smile touching his lips."Good morning, doc," he said softly, walking over to meet me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead. "How did you sleep?""I slept great, Rhys," I said with a small smile, resting my hands against his chest. "You don't need to make me breakfast every morning, you know.""I want to," he murmured, his hands settling over my lower stomach. "How's the baby doing today?""The baby is fine, Captain," I laughed softly. "And I'm hungry."Rhys smiled, guiding me to sit do

  • The Hockey Captain’s Curvy Obsession   The Final Horn & The Corporate Reality

    The third period was all about control. Seattle played a tight, discipline-first game that kept Vancouver pinned in their own zone for minutes at a time.I sat on a stool near the bench area, resting my feet just as Rhys had asked, keeping my tablet on my lap. The game metrics showed that our third-line players were matching Vancouver’s intensity effortlessly, while Rhys’s line dominated every single shift.With two minutes left on the clock, Damian tried one last desperate play. He took a long, wild slap shot from the blue line, but Miller blocked it cleanly with his shin guard. The puck trickled out toward center ice.Rhys picked up the loose puck, used his body to protect it from Damian's trailing stick, and skated cleanly past the defense. He didn't try to score a flashy goal. He just held the puck near the boards, letting the final seconds tick away until the horn blasted through the arena.Seattle won four to one.The home crowd stood and cheered as the players gathered at the h

  • The Hockey Captain’s Curvy Obsession   Second Period

    ​The second period started fast. The noise inside the arena was loud, with thousands of fans shouting and clapping every time the puck hit the ice.​I stood behind the bench with my clipboard, keeping a close eye on the players. My main job was to watch their movement and make sure nobody was showing signs of fatigue or injury. Every time Rhys went out for a shift, I tracked his stride. He moved fast, skated smooth, and showed zero limp. His rebuilt right knee was handling the game perfectly.​During a stoppage in play, Coach walked over to stand beside me.​"How is Keller looking to you, Sasha?" Coach asked, checking his line sheet. "Is his knee holding up under this pace?"​"He looks great, Coach," I said calmly, looking down at my notes. "His heart rate recovery on the bench is steady. His legs are strong, and his balance is right where it needs to be."​"Good," Coach said, nodding. "Because Damian is playing nasty out there. He’s trying every trick in the book to get Rhys angry an

  • The Hockey Captain’s Curvy Obsession   The First Face-Off

    ​The air inside Climate Pledge Arena was cold and sharp. Even for a pre-season matchup against Vancouver, the stands were three-quarters full an hour before puck drop.​I stood near the bench tunnel in dark pants and a grey wool coat, watching the team finish warm-ups. The sound of pucks hitting the boards echoed off the glass in heavy, rhythmic thuds.​Lars walked up beside me, holding his clipboard and two paper cups of hot tea. He handed one to me.​"Damian’s line is starting for Vancouver tonight," Lars said, taking a sip. "Coach told the guys to keep their heads up. Pre-season or not, Damian plays dirty when he feels proven wrong."​"I saw the line charts," I said, taking the cup. "His right shoulder still shows a slight drop when he turns left. He’s compensating for a bad AC joint."​Lars chuckled softly. "Only you would spot an old shoulder injury from thirty yards away."​"It's my job to spot it, Lars," I said with a small smile.​Down on the ice, the horn sounded to end warm-

  • The Hockey Captain’s Curvy Obsession   The Pre-Season Physicals

    ​The main diagnostic wing at the Vance-Keller Performance Center was busy by seven the next morning.​Twenty-four Seattle Kraken players moved through the testing rooms in grey training shirts and shorts. They took turns on the muscle scanners, stationary bikes, and joint-stability platforms.​I stood at the central desk in trousers and a silk blouse, checking the live data on my tablet. Lars stood beside me, typing jump-test numbers into the system.​"Rhys has been pacing outside room three for twenty minutes, Sasha," Lars said with a small smile. "He asked security twice if the temperature in here was okay for you."​I laughed softly. "I told him at breakfast that my doctor cleared me for normal work hours. He's just being overly cautious."​"Can you blame him?" Lars asked, his tone gentle. "You two built an empire, put your enemies away, and now you're having a baby. He wants to make sure you're safe."​"I can take care of myself," I said, locking my tablet and turning toward the t

  • The Hockey Captain’s Curvy Obsession   Protective Baby Lockdown

    ​The Seattle rain hit the windows of our private transport in steady, quiet rhythms as we drove up the winding mountain pass toward the compound.​Ever since we left the Savoy in London, Rhys had shifted into a state of hyper-attentive, protective focus. He hadn't let go of my hand once on the nine-hour transatlantic flight. He had personally instructed his head of security to double the perimeter patrols at the mountain estate, and he had checked the climate control settings in the vehicle three times before we even left the tarmac at Sea-Tac airport.​I sat beside him on the leather bench, wearing a soft cream knit sweater and dark trousers, looking at him with an amused, affectionate smile.​"Rhys," I said softly, squeezing his thick fingers. "I'm eight weeks pregnant, not made of spun glass."​Rhys didn't relax his grip. He turned his head, his dark grey eyes scanning my face with intense, unyielding tenderness.​"You're carrying our baby, Sasha," Rhys rumbled, his voice low and g

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