Happy birthday to me.
3
Jack
I laid backon the therapy table, awaiting the appearance of my assigned therapist. The muscles and skin under my arms ached from the crutches, but still, I insisted on using them. As ridiculous as it was, I’d rather exhaust myself on crutches than spend one second more in a wheelchair or on a stretcher. The helplessness drove me batty, and I prayed this place was as brutal as my orthopedic surgeon promised. I wanted my body pushed to every limit, limp with sweat and exhaustion so I could get it back to the shape it had been. Getting back on my feet, both of them, was my number one goal, and I didn’t give a shit how much I had to battle to get there.
I squirmed on the table, the paper lining crinkling under me with every move I made. Thanks to my bum leg, I couldn’t even pull off restless. Each toss and turn had to be careful and deliberate. My nostrils flared as the rage inside grew. Nothing was worse than being trapped inside your own body.
“Where is she?” I huffed to no one but myself. Granted, it had only been five minutes since I arrived in the room, but irritation and impatience simmered in my gut. I counted the grooves in the stucco ceiling in an effort to calm myself. My eyes clenched shut, already sick of the endless sea of white and black dots. I pictured my dad’s disapproving scowl and the shake of his head at my piss-poor attitude. I took a long breath, slowly exhaling some of the tension. If there was one thing I had in overabundance, it was time.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” a sweet voice apologized before bursting through the door. She flashed a sweet smile, and for a moment, I forgot to be a whiny asshole and let my own lips curve up.
This past month, I hadn’t seen anyone or anything through the bitterness filtering my vision. Early spring blurred into almost summer, but I was too busy resenting the world for what happened to me. After two weeks in the hospital, and a stay at my parents’ house until insurance cleared me for in patient rehab, the only way I knew how to deal was to become a pissy introvert. I’d lost the use of my leg; I’d lost my girlfriend; I’d lost almost everything I’d come to count on. The last thing I wanted was to interact with anyone, but that wouldn’t help me. I was putting in more effort, but my almost friendly reaction to my therapist still shocked me a little.
My sole focus was getting my battered limb to work again, so everyone around me faded into the background. I’d been climbing the walls, although only in my head as I was short a leg for climbing, waiting for my therapist to start the process. When my eyes locked with her chocolate brown ones, even if for only a minute, something registered beyond the dark cloud over my head. She was that beautiful, or I was that lonely and morose. Either way, her presence caused me to jackknife from lying down to sitting, sending a shooting pain down my leg—a humiliating reminder of the reason I was here.
“Ooh, easy there.” She drifted her hand down my leg. “Are you all right, Jack?”
“Yeah,” I grumbled, waving my hand. It was silly to pretend I wasn’t a mess. If she was my therapist, she was supposed to discern my weaknesses so she could make me strong again, but I hated it all the same. Being in another beautiful woman’s presence and feeling less than poured a fresh stream of salt on my open wound.
I opened my eyes, but the effort it took to widen them exhausted me. My vision focused on my girlfriend sniffling next to the bed.
“Hey,” my groggy voice croaked out. “What’s wrong, baby?” I knew seeing me like this was tough. My mother and sister hadn’t stopped the waterworks since I’d been admitted, although PJ would run out of the room before she really let the sobs go.
“I can’t do this, Jack. I’m sorry.”
“Can’t do what?” I blinked my heavy eyelids and did my best to lift my gaze to hers. Marina was dramatic, but the quivering of her chin gutted me. I knew even before she said it.
“This isn’t the life I thought we’d have.”
“No shit!” I spat back. “You think I wanted to fall through the floor? It’s a long recovery, but nothing is definite. You can’t just—”
“I’m sorry.” She stood and pressed a kiss to my cheek before walking out of the room.
“I guess I’m just eager to get started …” Our gazes locked, and an odd recognition came over me. “You look really familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”
She guided me back to lying flat on the table, cradling my leg before she set it down.
“I suppose I look different since you last saw me. It’s been a while since we moved. Can you push your leg into my hand?” My gaze drifted to her shiny chestnut hair cinched into a ponytail at the nape of her graceful neck. The loose wisps of hair around her delicate cheekbones only accentuated her beauty. I peered lower at her snug polo shirt and black pants—the standard therapist uniform from what I’d seen. Still, the lean curves of her hips pouring into long legs that went on for days. This woman was anything but forgettable, yet I couldn’t place her. Where the hell did I know her from?
Her hand hovered over my ankle as she awaited my response.
I grimaced as I fought to lift my leg a half inch off the table. Even that tiny movement caused beads of sweat to break out along my temples. This road ahead everyone kept referring to seemed like climbing a goddamn mountain.
“Moved?” I repeated, still trying to figure out who she was.
“I’m Kyle’s sister, Danielle.” She laughed as she gingerly lifted my leg. “Does this hurt?”
I winced at the stiffness, bracing myself for blinding pain, but she was gentle enough to know when to stop.
My eyes widened as they stayed glued to her face, a face I now remembered covered in thick glasses with hair pulled back into a tight braid.
“Dani?” I breathed out. “I mean, Danielle Marsh. Damn,” I gasped at the realization. My old friend Kyle’s sweet and shy little sister was my physical therapist—a therapist I spent the last ten minutes lusting over like a horny twelve-year-old. Talk about a small world.
“Yeah, I had Lasik surgery and stopped with the braids. I can see how you wouldn’t recognize me.” She grabbed the clipboard holding my chart and scribbled some notes. After she set it down on the counter, she hovered over me, raising a brow as she cocked her head to the side. “You should know, I’m one of the toughest therapists here.”
“Is that right?” I couldn’t help the tug of a smile on my lips. Dani had always been shy and adorable in a puppy sort of way. It irritated the shit out of Kyle that he couldn’t shake his little sister, to which I’d been nothing but sympathetic, but even he couldn’t find it in him to be mean to her when she loitered near us in his basement. It was difficult to imagine that sweet little thing as a tough-as-nails therapist.
