“Karlsson offered to help me stretch yesterday,” I say, grasping for any kind of distraction from the hot doctor talk. “And I’m pretty sure I dislocated a rib in the process.”
Zoe’s laugh explodes out of her. “Viktorwhat?”
“He grabbed my leg,” I say, my knee twinging just thinking about it, “and saidrelaxin his monotone voice. Which isn’t relaxing at all, for the record. And then he pushed hard, like he was trying to fold me in half.”
Lulu wheezes. “That’s… actually horrifying.”
“It was,” I confirm. “I felt body parts I’ve never felt before.”
Jake’s eyes go to my leg again, his voice low. “How’s it feeling?”
“Fine,” I say automatically, because that’s what I always say.
The truth is, it’s getting better. Healing. It’s doing what it’s supposed to. But it’s also a constant reminder that I’m not where I’m supposed to be. That the season keeps moving without me. That the Olympics are sitting out there like a ticking clock I’m not going to make.
That I’m stuck in my own house, counting days.
But I look around at the mess, at the noise, at the people who didn’t even ask if they could come over—they just did. They always do. They fill the quiet like it’s their job, shoving warmth into spaces I keep trying to leave cold.
The house feels different like this, full in a way that makes the edges blur.
But it’s being used for what it was built for, and I like it better like this.
***
The clinic’s quiet when I get there the following day. No screaming kids, no flying teething rings. Just some peppy jazz music that is so at odds with my mood, it makes me want to commit a minor crime.
Jenny at reception smiles like she’s trying to win an award for it. “Good morning, Mr. Hutchison. Go on right through to the physio bay. Heidi is waiting for you.”
“Fine.” My knee tightens like it knows what’s coming. My leg felt fine walking in; it always does. It’s the bending it hates.
Heidi’s already there, ponytail swishing as she adjusts the plinth. She grins when she sees me, seemingly all sunshine and rainbows, but she’s a drill sergeant underneath.
“Morning, Grumplestiltskin.”
I mutter something noncommittal and drop my bag by the wall, my keys onto her desk. My eyes flick, just once, toward the corridor that leads deeper into the clinic where Carina’s office is. I don’t know what I’m expecting. Carina doesn’t belong to me. She’s a doctor. She’s fucking busy.
Still, it pisses me off how disappointed I feel to not even catch a glimpse of her.
“Let’s warm you up,” Heidi says, clapping her hands once. “Nice and gentle today.”
I snort. “That’s what you said last time.”
“And look, you survived!” She’s deceptively cheerful for someone who puts me through hell.
She has me lying back before I can argue, fingers warm and precise as she positions my leg. Her hands are light—nottentative, just confident. Like she knows exactly how far she can push before it turns ugly.
“Okay,” she says. “Bend.”
I do.
“Bend.”
“Iambending!”
“Oh, come on. You can bend more than that, you pussy.”
Pain spikes, sharp and sudden, my breath punching out of my lungs before I can stop it.
