Chapter Thirty-Seven
CHARLOTTE
Ishould be on top of the world. Today’s the day Patel clears Declan. After nearly nine weeks of rehab, rules, and hiding, we finally get to breathe. We can make it official, stop pretending we’re nothing more than captain and PT. He’s back, and we’re finally allowed to beus.
I should be ecstatic, but my body feels heavy, like someone pulled the plug and drained all my energy overnight. I slept fine, but it doesn’t feel like it. My head’s foggy, my stomach unsettled, and I can’t quite shake it.
I tell myself it’s just nerves or the crash after so many long days. I start setting up my station—fresh towels, resistance bands, tape lined up perfectly across the counter. It’s mindless, grounding, the kind of routine that makes me feel in control.
By the time Declan walks in, I’ve already triple-checked everything. It’s ridiculous—I’ve done this hundreds of times—but my hands won’t stop fussing.
Patel’s right behind him, tablet in hand, calm as ever. He greets us both, then gets straight to it. No small talk, just the methodical rhythm of a clearance exam.
Declan looks relaxed, loose. Confident in that quiet way he gets when he knows his body’s ready. I stay beside Patel, jotting notes, helping when needed: range of motion, stability, strength. All of it looks perfect.
My chest feels tight, but not from nerves. It’s more like my body’s lagging behind the moment, a half-second offbeat. I blink hard, shake it off, focus on the numbers.
Patel moves through the final test, nodding once. “Looks solid,” he says, glancing at Declan. “Full clearance. Effective immediately.”
Declan exhales, a low laugh under his breath, relief and pride mixing in his voice. I can feel my own smile before I even realize it’s there.
This is it. The moment we’ve been waiting for. The one that changes everything.
Dr. Patel claps Declan on the shoulder and congratulates him, then adds something about sticking with maintenance and reporting any swelling. I catch maybe half of it because a suddenwave of light-headedness blurs the edges of the room. I steady a hand on the treatment table, force a deep breath, and nod like everything’s fine.
Declan glances my way, eyebrows pinched, and for a second I think he might ask—but Patel’s still talking, and I manage a small, reassuring smile.
He passed. He’s back. We made it.
So why do I feel like my body didn’t get the memo?
Patel’s barely out the door when Declan turns to me, that grin already spreading across his face—the one that starts small and takes over everything.
“Guess that means you’re officially off the hook,” he says, voice low and warm.
I smile back, though my body feels slow catching up to it. “Feels strange. Good strange.”
He takes a step closer, leaning on the edge of the table. “So what happens now? With HR, I mean.”
“I’ll file the transfer paperwork today and email HR to request a meeting,” I tell him. “Once they send a few options, I’ll loop you in to pick something that works around practice, and we can go together.”
He nods, that easy confidence settling in his expression. “Finally legit.”
“Finally,” I echo, the word landing somewhere deep in my chest. It feels like exhaling after holding my breath for weeks.
For a second we just stand there—close, quiet, both soaking it in. He reaches for my hand, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. It’s such a small thing, but it feels like more than it should.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks suddenly, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You look… pale.”
I pull in a steady breath, force a small smile. “Just tired. Long few weeks.”
He studies me like he doesn’t quite believe it, but he lets it go, giving my hand one last squeeze before stepping back. “Get some rest, okay?”
“Only if you do,” I say, and this time my smile’s real.
He grins—soft, sure, the kind that makes everything inside me settle—and then he’s gone, heading down the hall toward the locker room.
The room feels too quiet after he leaves, the echo of his voice still hanging in the air. I sink onto the treatment table, hand pressed to my chest, waiting for the adrenaline to fade.
