“All good,” she says, tone smooth. Controlled.
She moves on like nothing happened. I nod like I believe her.
But I feel it everywhere now.
Every time she brushes past me. Every time she holds a stretch a second longer than necessary. Every time her voice dips to explain a new sequence.
I’m hyper-aware of her.
But she’s unreadable.
Toward the end of the session, she adjusts the outer strap of my brace.
“How’s that feel?”
“Fine.”
Lie.
It’s too tight. Or too loose. Or maybe just that she’s touching me again and I’m not built to handle that today.
I grit my teeth, keep my mouth shut, and finish the damn protocol.
She logs notes on her tablet like I’m just another patient.
I should be grateful for that—neutral is clean, neutral is safe—but it grates anyway.
I tell myself that’s a good thing.
That I need her to stay neutral.
That Iwanther to act like last night never happened.
But the truth?
It’s messing with my head.
And I don’t know how the hell to shake it off.
Chapter Nine
CHARLOTTE
It takes everything I have not to think about the kiss.
Yesterday morning at PT, I played it cool. Kept my voice even. My cues sharp. Clinical. Professional.
But every time I adjusted his brace or checked his quad activation, I felt it—that hum under my skin, that tension just below the surface.
He didn’t say a word about it—didn’t even flinch, just stared straight ahead and acted like nothing happened.
And I did the same, because if I’d let myself soften, even for a second, it all would’ve spilled out.
Was it a mistake to him? Just a moment he’s already filed away as nothing?
I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. My mind says to let it go. My body refuses to listen.
Now, the silence is louder than ever.
