Firm. Solid. Dependable.
Strong.
I rise and lower again, testing the limits of what I thought was still broken. But it isn’t. Not anymore. When I glance at Nash through the mirror, our eyes lock. His grin stretches wide across his face, almost,almost, as big as the one on mine.
“You’re doing it,” he says, voice warm and proud and happy for me.
“Oh believe me… I know.” My laugh is breathless.
“How’s it feel?”
“Amazing.” I lower my heel slowly, turn to face him. “You said once I might end up stronger than before the injury. I thought you were just saying that to keep me from crying.”
Nash holds up his hands, all that green light energy fading into a yield sign. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. They’re just calf raises.”
“I know that. But I also know how much better it feels. I used to have this little painful click at the top range of motion, and now, that’s gone. It feels great.”
Nash steps closer, arms crossed, head bobbing. “Then I think it’s time we level up. Careful two-legged jumps using the barre for support. Maybe some light dancing. But no turns or leaps. Not yet.”
Joy surges through me like wind catching a kite and before I can think better of it, I leap into his arms. My legs wrap around his waist, arms around his neck, laughter spilling out of me before I crash my lips to his. He catches me with a startled laugh of his own, hands gripping my thighs, then sliding to the small of my back as he kisses me like he means it. Like he feels it too.
“You might be the best thing that ever happened to me,” I whisper against his mouth, forehead pressed to his. “Just think where I’d be if it weren’t for you.”
He lifts a brow, skeptical. “Probably homeless. Begging on the street.”
I laugh, breathless, and unwrap myself, feet hitting the floor gently. “Or worse.”
“There’s worse than homeless and broke?”
I shrug. “Probably. But I’ll never know, because you stepped in and rescued me. Like a literal fairy tale. Justwhen the damsel thought all was lost, the handsome prince shows up and puts all her pieces back together.”
Nash scoffs. “I’m sorry, but Lucy Calder has never been a damsel in distress.”
“I was pretty distressed that day in the ER. Even more when I lost the tour. Kind of felt like my whole life was caving in.”
He starts to respond, but the sharp beep of his work phone cuts in. He winces. “Twenty bucks says I’m about to lose my day off.”
“Only a fool would take that bet.”
The hospital always needs him. Always. Stillwater Bay might be small, but we must be the most accident-prone, medically understaffed town in America.
“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes dimming a little as guilt drapes across his shoulders.
“Don’t be.” I reach for his hand and squeeze. “We got our PT session in. All home-life obligations fulfilled.”
“Oh no,” he says, holding up a finger, a glint in his eyes that makes my heart soften in contentment. “Don’t you dare. Nothing about you is an obligation, kid.”
Nash starts toward me, like he might kiss me again, but another message dings. He groans softly, eyes skimming the screen. “I have to go. They’re short again.”
“Go. Save lives. Restore the hospital to order as apparently only you can do. I’ll be here when you get back.”
“I like the sound of that,” he replies, those gray eyes sparkling. He leans in, presses a quick, firm kissto my lips.
As Nash disappears down the hall, my phone buzzes from its place on the floor with an incoming message. I let it sit, watching myself in the mirror instead. Then, without thinking, I begin to move. Slowly. Carefully. Testing myself with a piece of choreography from the last class I took in Los Angeles. My injured foot glides along the floor. No turns. No jumps. Just movement. Breath. Grace.
And it feels like coming home. Like freedom.
Like remembering who I am.
