“Aye, she can walk.”
I face him, hands on my hips.
His expression is unrepentant, the concern clear in his eyes. “Does it hurt to bend, Callie?”
I don’t move.
Gavin’s eyebrows rise. “Hang on a tick, Rory. We’ve hit a wee snag.” He mimics bending side to side.
I still don’t move.
Gavin stares into my eyes while he speaks into the phone. “Can I ring you in a bit? Aye. Cheers.” He puts his phone in his pocket. “Want me to give you a hand?”
The mere thought of him touching my waist sends blood rushing to my cheeks. “Who was that?”
“My mate. He’s a doctor. I didn’t ask him to drive here, but if he needs to, he will.”
I scoff. “You’re threatening me.”
“I’m not going to be responsible for any lasting injuries.”
His thoughtfulness is overbearing and kind of sweet. I can see why he’d want to be sure I’m fine, but people fall all the time and nothing comes of it. The whole doctor thing feels a bit much. His earnest concern is definitely too much.
This might be one of those times where I swallow my reservations and just do the thing. “Fine. Call him back.”
“Grand.” He waits. “You can bend first, maybe?”
I do it slowly, and when I move forward, I feel the twinge shoot up my lower back. A hiss slips through my teeth.
“There it is,” he mumbles. “Hiya, Rory. She only gets a twinge when she bends forward. Aye.”
Gavin listens on the phone for another minute, so I walk toward the window. Partially to show him that I can walk fine, and also to put some distance between us. Maybe the cool glass will help my cheeks chill out. I keep seeing flashes in my mind of Gavin assisting me bend and it’s not helping.
“Will you sit for a moment, Callie?”
I turn back too quickly and the twinge returns. Gavin clocks it, so I scowl at him as I move to sit on the sofa. He sits beside me. “Rory thinks we should check for tenderness and swelling on the spine. I can look or we can FaceTime him.”
Call in a doctor? This is getting worse. I turn away and lift my shirt enough for Gavin to see my lower back.
“No bruise or swelling,” he says into the phone. “Is it tender to touch, Callie?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
He clears his throat. “Can I press a bit, just gentle?”
There my face goes, betraying me once more. “Sure.”
He lowers his voice, so I imagine he put the phone down. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
The thing is, I’m not. He’s a total gentleman. My pride is more injured than my back. But I am athletic, I run and do yoga and pilates and play tennis on occasion, so the idea of my back giving me grief is a little stressful. I inhale slowly, reminding myself to be polite, all while a blush bleeds into my neck, suffusing me with fire.
“I’m not uncomfortable. Just don’t press too hard.”
“Where do I push?” he asks, and I realize he’s speaking intothe phone again. Rory must be giving him directions, because his cool fingers press against my skin at the spine, moving up one side and then on the other. A flush of chills volleys over my skin, but there’s no pain.
“Doesn’t hurt,” I squeak.
Gavin repeats this into the phone, his voice totally level. He tugs lightly on my shirt, so I drop it, then shift to sit back. He leans back beside me, and I can hear Rory speaking but not well enough to make out what he’s saying. After a few minutes, Gavin nods. “I’ve got ice. We’ll be grand, even if the leccy cuts out. Do you have everything you need?”
