I do my best not to be rude and push anyone away, but it’s too fucking much. All of this is too much. I love my family, but I don’t want to be here, poisoning them with my negativity.
Somehow, I make it through dinner. Probably only because they all know better than to pester me too much. The conversation flows around me with only the occasional comment or question directed my way. When it’s finally time to leave, Mom sends a big bag full of leftovers with Max.
As we’re standing on the porch to say goodbye, she hugs me again. This time I return it a little stronger than before.
“Thanks for dinner. I’m sorry I’m not better company.”
Her hands lift to cup my cheeks. “Oh honey, we don’t need you to be better company. We just need you to let us love you.”
“I’m trying.”
It’s the truth, and the only answer I can give her right now.
Once I’m home and alone again, I finally feel like I can breathe. The full force of the Donnellys, while well-intentioned, was suffocating. All their happiness and excitement for the future — Leo and Serena’s wedding, Kat’s graduation from grad school — it was too much. Their lives are still moving forward. Their dreams haven’t yet come true. They still have hope and happiness to look forward to.
I have none of that.
I have nothing.
Chapter six
Lily
Butterflies have taken up a home inside of my stomach. They arrived the second I checked my patient list for today and saw Jude’s name near the top. I went to Gianni to ask why Jude was transferred to my patient load, and the glare I received made me back away slowly.
Privately, I’m not surprised. I don’t know Jude as well as the rest of the Donnellys, given our age gap and the fact that he’s gone most of the time, but even I know he values his privacy and doesn’t like to be fawned over.
And Gianni was definitely fawning.
I’ve got about fifteen minutes before Jude’s appointment and I’m using it wisely, studying up on ACL rehab post reconstructive surgery. Gianni dumped his patient file onto my work area earlier with a huff of annoyance, so I’ve had the chance to get up to speed.
As it would turn out, Jude Donnelly has been keeping things from his family. Like the fact that he’s had three ACL tears in the last five years and multiple meniscus injuries. His knee has been scoped more times than I can count, and he had a more extensive surgical repair done a few years ago as well. Seeing as I don’t remember hearing aboutanyof that — from his family or from the media — it would seem the team kept it all tightly under wraps.
Unfortunately, it makes his rehab a hell of a lot more complicated. There’s going to be a ton of scar tissue to navigate, not to mention the damage is a lot more than just one ACL tear. I’m starting to understand why the rumours are flying that this could be a career ending injury for him.
When there’s just a couple of minutes left until he’s due to arrive, I dart into the staff bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. My nerves are ridiculous. I’ve known Jude my entire life. Okay, fine, I’ve also had a teeny-tiny crush on him for over a decade, but whatever. He’s my patient when he’s here. That’s all.
I can be professional.
But as I look in the mirror, tugging at the V-neck uniform shirt the clinic mandates we wear, I cringe. Of course, today is the day I had to wear the one that shrunk a little in the dryer. It’s not indecent, but it’s definitely more formfitting than I prefer at work. Then, I catch sight of the multicoloured beaded earrings that were a gift from an Indigenous friend of mine. I run my hands through my hair that’s braided back but has my not-so-secret deep purple section showing prominently.
Damn it. Nothing about me screams professional right now. Will a pro athlete like Jude take me seriously with coloured hair, my too tight uniform, and funky earrings?
But as I move to take the earrings out, I pause.
No.
I’m not going to change who I am. My employer has no problem with my appearance, and I’m a damn good physical therapist. That’s all that matters, certainly not something as minor as my earrings or my hair. As long as I show my competence to Jude and help him with his rehab the way I know I can, he’ll have to take me seriously.
Riiight. Because that’s exactly what always happens to me. Men taking me seriously. Uh-huh, sure.
I shake my head to free my mind of those thoughts. They have no place here. My work is the one place I know I’ve earned respect. No one bats an eye at my sunny, upbeat attitude or colourful personality here; it’s what they expect from me. Along with competence, skill, compassion, and professionalism.
And that’s exactly what Jude is going to get.
I stride out of the bathroom, my shoulders back, posture tall. Judging by the moon-eyed expression on Sukhi’s face, it’s safe to say Jude is here. I head straight toward the only private treatment room we have — the rest of the clinic being an open concept style with equipment in the middle for anyone to use.
Knocking on the door, I wait for a sound of acknowledgment before walking in.
