A gagging noise erupted from his throat. “Mets and Rangers? Why did you let Kyle brainwash you? I think you need some therapy, too. Detox off shitty teams.”
“Kyle always did say Yankee fans were arrogant.” I peeked down at Jack’s leg, now going at the right pace. He quirked an eyebrow when our eyes met and I nodded my approval.
“When your team is that good, or the best, being humble is silly, don’t you think?” He cocked a brow, and there went the gooey feeling again. Jack’s sessions were exhausting both of us.
“Put that arrogance into your leg raises. Three sets of ten. I’ll be right back. And you can go a little faster than that if you feel up to it—but not too fast.”
“Damn. Control freak, much?”
He burst out laughing at my scowl. “All right, all right.” He brought his index and middle finger to his forehead in a mock salute. “Got it, boss.”
A smile snuck across my lips before I headed to my office to grab a light resistance band for Jack’s ankles. Right before I stepped inside, a tap on the shoulder startled me.
“You’re a little cozy, aren’t you?” Dev, one of the other therapists I worked with—and the one I turned down for a date three times before he stopped asking—glowered at me with his arms crossed.
“Cozy?” My eyes narrowed as they fixed on the smug grin on his face.
He jutted his chin toward the therapy rooms. “You and your firefighter patient. Are you friends or something?”
“He’s an old friend of my brother’s, and how dare you insinuate I’m not professional.”
He held his hands up in defeat. “I didn’t say anything about unprofessional, but you’re usually not so … friendly.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a wry grin. “You’re usually so obsessed with making sure your patients do the exercises correctly, I don’t notice you engaging in much small talk. That made me think, this one must be special.”
“Jack is trying to gain the strength to walk. I’m building a rapport of trust with my patient.” I marched up to him, holding back the overwhelming urge to spit into his face. “You focus on your cases, and I’ll focus on mine.”
“Is there a problem?” Kathryn, the managing director of the center, gazed between us.
“Not a thing.” Dev stepped back, his proverbial tail between his legs as he turned to retreat to one of the other patient rooms. “Sorry to overstep. You both have a nice afternoon.”
“Mind telling me what that wasreallyabout?” Kathryn whispered.
“Dev said I was cozy with Jack Taylor. He’s an old friend of my brother’s so we chat during our sessions. Nothing inappropriate or holding back his progress. I don’t know why—”
“Because Dev has a thing for you and wanted the promotion I gave you.”
My head whipped to hers. “How did you—”
“Good directors know everything that happens within these doors. Or should, for the most part. You’re one of my best therapists and a consummate pro. Some men don’t like to lose.” She squeezed my forearm before heading back to her office.
I came back to Jack’s table, taking deep breaths to ward off the rage. I was pissed off and … embarrassed. Iwascozy with Jack. I needed to put some professional walls between us during our sessions so no one—including the both of us—became confused.
“All right, Jack. Let’s give this a try …” I trailed off when I noticed the wince of pain on his face. He groaned and buried his face into the pillow.
“What happened?” I dropped the band and rushed over to his leg.
“A cramp. I hope I didn’t fuck it up and go too fast.”
I examined the leg and didn’t notice any tears in the sutures or new bruising.
“You’re using muscles that have been asleep for a while. It looks fine, but we’ll try the band another time. I’ll get you some ibuprofen, and you can go have an iced coffee break outside.”
The disappointment and frustration on his face broke my heart. It was a look I’d seen on dozens of patients, but from Jack, it made my chest ache.
Was I doing him a disservice by being his therapist while battling these feelings? Feelings that, despite my denial, grew for him each day? Maybe I should reassign him?
He gazed up at me, searching my face for answers, and I could tell, my prediction of the future. I didn’t have any of that yet. I had high hopes, but promising him would be cruel at this early stage.
“When is your next patient?” His normally booming voice was small and cracked my heart. The tough-as-nails therapist I proclaimed myself to be was nowhere to be found around Jack, no matter how hard I tried to act the part.
