“While I’d love to stay and chat,” she said as she stood up, “I have other patients to attend to. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Don’t forget to use a heating pad on your leg. It’s important.”
He started to say something, but she was already on her way out the door. Defeated, he dropped his gaze to the floor. He was hoping to continue with the conversation they started earlier, but there was no reason for him to call her back into the room. Maybe they’d get another chance tomorrow.
Once home, he was bored out of his mind. He couldn’t do anything physical, like ride his mountain bike or even his Harley. He could go to the park and watch other people having fun, but he didn’t want to risk hurting his leg. He was intent on babying the hell out of it. So, he called Manny and the two had a sedate evening watching a movie.
The next day, Robert felt well enough to leave his cane home, but he still relied on car service. No reason to push limits by driving himself when he needed to get back in the game ASAP.
He walked into Morgan Physical Therapy Solutions with a noticeable limp, but he was so excited to show Amber his progress that he felt as if he were sprinting down the hall.
The receptionist stood and greeted him with a dazzling smile. “Look at you!” She clasped her fingers together and brought her hands to her chest. “You’re responding to treatment already. Dr. Morgan is going to be so pleased.”
That’s exactly what he hoped.
“Have a seat.” The receptionist extended her arm toward the bench along the wall, and then retracted it. “On second thought, why don’t you walk into Dr. Morgan’s office yourself and show her how much progress you’ve made?”
“I’d love to.” The words came out with more enthusiasm than he wanted to express out loud, so he bit his lower lip. The treatments were working magic, and he wanted to show Amber how well his leg was doing, but he really wanted the one-on-one conversation. Alone time in her office put the cherry on top of that sundae. He knocked on the door and waited, his heartbeat quickening with each second.
“Come in,” she called from inside her office.
He turned the knob, let the door swing open, and stood there for a second until she looked up and met his gaze.
“Mr. Blade.” She closed her laptop, surprised to see him.
“Dr. Morgan.” He nodded his head once, enjoying that they were playfully greeting each other by their last names and pretending to be formal. He held up his open hands to emphasize that he was no longer carrying the cane and walked into the office like a person who hadn’t practically twisted his leg into a pretzel a week ago.
Her eyes followed his every step. Her impeccably glossed lips spread into an elated smile. She jumped to her feet and rounded the desk, so she stood directly in front of him and touched his bicep. “That’s incredible progress, Robert. You’re the best kind of patient. I can only do so much. It’s really up to the individual to follow instructions and not overdo it. I can’t tell you how many patients I’ve had come into this office who re-injure themselves because they do too much too soon. They think they’re invincible, and, after weeks of vigorous therapy, we’re back to square one.” She leaned back and looked at him from head to toe. “But not you. You’re a dream to work with.”
Robert was transfixed. Not just because of how overjoyed she was or because of the complements she was throwing at him left and right. It was the casual use of his first name that opened a window. It slipped from her tongue so easily she didn’t even notice.
“When did this happen?” she asked, looking down at his leg. “Did you just wake up this morning and have newfound strength in your knee and not need a cane?” Her brow suddenly furrowed. “You’re not pushing yourself, are you? I don’t want you to backslide. I want you well, not so you can return to a sport you love, because I don’t want you to have repercussions from this injury.”
The sincerity behind her words, the genuine care she had for his wellbeing, struck Robert in the center of his chest with kindness. He was used to people pushing him to get better and heal as quickly as possible so he could return to the game. Doctors, Coach, his teammates, his dad, and even himself, were all guilty. No one ever truly prioritized his long-term health and recovery.
“No,” he answered. “I’m not pushing myself too hard. My leg felt a million times better this morning, and I didn’t do more than the simple instructions you sent me home with. I’ve been taking it easy.” The nagging twinge in his leg and the pull in the bend of his knee that made him wince with each step for the last week were infinitely better, and he credited Dr. Morgan for the improvement in his injury. “Today, when I woke up, I didn’t reach for my cane. I didn’t even realize it until I was halfway to the bathroom.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Robert couldn’t look away from her beauty. She glowed, and it sent a whirlwind of butterflies through his chest. He didn’t move, content to stand there and share the intense gaze that had their eyes glued on one another.
“This is the part of my job I love the most and why I wouldn’t do anything else. I could’ve been a surgeon and repair torn ligaments and broken bones, but I didn’t want to do that. I wanted this.” She directed her hands and her gaze toward his lower half. “You came in here a few days ago wobbling in pain, unsteady on your feet, and unsure if I was going to help you or not. And look at you now. Not even halfway into your treatment plan and you’re a new person. There’s no other reward like this.” Her eyes sparkled like gemstones and those gorgeous heart-shaped lips were stretched into a perfect white smile as she spoke. “Let’s sit down.”
She motioned to the chairs across from her desk and surprised Robert by taking the seat next to him instead of sitting behind her desk. She crossed her ankles and tucked them under her chair, then leaned forward with her hands on her knees. “Did you tell your coach and teammates about your progress?”
“Yeah. I talk to Coach every day. I FaceTimed with some of my teammates last night and showed them how well I was getting around. My captain said, at this rate, I’ll be back on the field in a few days.”
A shocked look passed over her face.
“He was kidding. I’m not going back until you give me the all-clear. Not one second sooner. Certainly not in a few days. And I have a follow-up with Dr. Mendelson when therapy is over.”
She exhaled, with her hand on her chest. “That’s a relief.”
He thought about what she said about pursuing a career as a physical therapist instead of a surgeon because she wanted to be hands-on in recovery. “You really never wanted to do anything except be a physical therapist?”
She shook her head. “Like I said, it was clear early on what I wanted to do. What about you? Did you ever envision yourself doing anything besides playing football?”
He realized he never had a choice in the matter. He was molded for football from the day he was born. It was an inherited passion. Part of his DNA. “Nope. It was always football for me. My earliest memory is holding a football.”
“I can tell it’s everything to you, isn’t it?”
