I give him a little wave and he shakes his head and steps into the room.
Chapter Eighteen
Jeff
Lesson 19: House calls are never a good idea.
Devon is sitting up against the headboard with her foot propped up on a pillow and an ice-pack of peas beneath her ankle, and I’m immediately reminded of the first time I saw her. Her dark hair spilling across the white linens of the bed in the recovery ward in Chicago, her glassy eyes smiling at a hundred funny thoughts that skittered through her loopy brain.
Instead of a blue hospital gown she’s wearing a t-shirt that says, “Underestimate me. It’ll be fun.” And a pair of shorts that might as well be underwear. I take a deep breath and step inside as she waves and scrunches up her nose in apology.
“I knew you were in pain last night,” I tell her, sitting on the end of the bed very gently.
“Must be nice to know everything. Can we blame this on Meredith?” she asks.
“As long as I don’t get blamed. We could blame the dozens of creepy men chasing after you. You had to do a lot of fancy footwork to keep them at arm’s length.” I reach for her painted blue toes and stop. “You’re not gonna dropkick me again are you?”
One side of her mouth curls upward. “No promises.”
I wrap my hand around her foot and scoot closer so I can get under her knee with my other hand. She lets out a small gasp and I meet her eyes to check for pain, but she is looking down at her lap, no sign of pain on her face. I lift her foot and can see the ball in her calf immediately.
“Jesus, Devon. Did you stretch at all last night?”
Her eyes meet mine and she looks annoyed. “Yeah, Jeff. Didn’t you notice me doing the lotus pose on the dance floor?”
“Alright, alright.” I slide my fingers down over the bump onto her heel. Everything seems to be intact as far as I can feel. “I want you to come in and get an MRI just to make sure you didn’t tear it again.”
She groans. “Can’t you just tell?”
“I can’t see through your skin, Devon. This bump is definitely a muscle knot.” I run my finger over the tennis ball in her calf down to her heel, “and the tendon isn’t completely ruptured, I can feel that.” I push gently again into her heel and feel for a tear. “But you have a fair amount of swelling and I can’t be sure you don’t have a tiny tear and if you do, you need to rest—get back in the boot and stay off your feet.”
“Surgery again?” she asks, her tone exhausted. “The kids are ruthless when I have to use that scooter thing.”
“No, a tiny tear wouldn’t require that,” I say, placing her foot back down on the peas. “You can teach in a boot.”
“Not the way I teach,” she murmurs.
She looks so sad that I pat her shin and she looks up at me.
“Ok. We can blame this on me,” I tell her.
She smiles, but it’s only a shadow of what she’s capable of.
“You want me to try to get this knot out?” I push my thumb into her calf muscle, and she jumps a little. I grin at her narrowed eyes. “It’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”
“Are you some kind of sadist?” she asks seriously. “Like Steve Martin inLittle Shop of Horrors?”
I laugh. That movie gave me nightmares for years when I was little. But I watched it over and over again none-the-less.
“Maybe. Either way you gotta work that knot out,” I tell her, and she sighs and tilts her head back against the headboard.
“Alright. Do your worst.” Her eyes are closed tight and she’s biting her lip. I have to look away.
“It’ll be easier if you roll over onto your stomach.”
She opens one eye and looks me over.
“Is this so you don’t have to see my face when you hurt me, you sicko?”
