“Fuck—”
“You’re not breaking,” Heidi says calmly. “That’s stiffness.”
“It feels like—”
“Like your body’s being dramatic,” she finishes. “Stop whining.”
I glare at the ceiling. “I don’t whine.”
“You absolutely do,” she says, and bends my knee another inch.
My hands curl into fists at my sides, and sweat beads at my temple.
“You’re not going to break,” she adds again, tone firm. “I’ve handled rugby players twice your size who cry louder than you.”
“That’s reassuring,” I mutter through clenched teeth.
She laughs, but she eases off, watches my breathing, then adjusts. The pain doesn’t disappear, but it stops feeling like the end of the world, and more like a challenge.
I grunt, finishing the set. She hands me a towel and starts walking me through the custom rehab plan, full of exercises designed to torture me. But I’m listening, because underneath the chirpy personality, she knows exactly what she’s doing.
By the end, my quad is shaking, and my pride’s taken a hit, but my leg feels less stiff.
“You’re good at this,” I admit, begrudgingly.
She laughs. “Don’t sound so shocked.”
As she runs through next week’s plan, my eyes drift back to the corridor again. Not deliberately, more without thinking.
“Carina’s tied up today,” Heidi says, like she can hear my thoughts. “She’s been bouncing between cases all morning.”
“Didn’t ask,” I reply immediately.
Heidi stifles a grin. “Okay. Sure.”
I choose to ignore that entirely, grab my bag, and leave before she can say anything else irritatingly perceptive. When I’m about halfway to the parking lot, I pat my pockets.
Empty.
“Fuck,” I mutter, turning back.
I head back in, trying not to limp too obviously, and make my way down the corridor toward Heidi’s office to grab my keys.
The door’s slightly ajar, and I can hear voices from inside. I recognize Carina’s straight away.
“I just—I don’t know what else to do…”
I freeze. Her voice is low and almost pained, like she might be crying, or about to.
“You’ve done everything you can,” Heidi replies gently.
There’s a rustle of paper, followed by a sigh.
“The fundraiser’s not pulling in what we need promo-wise,” Carina says. “Moreno’s pulled strings, I’ve called in every contact I have, but we need more press, more names—just…something.”
There’s a silence, then I hear her voice break. “He keeps asking if he’s going to lose his leg, Heidi.”
Something tightens in my chest as I hear movement, some rustling, maybe a quick hug.
