Her laughter is light and easy, and I feel my lips twitch in response. Apparently, the one thing that will almost make me smile is Lily Chapman’s laugh.
That’s…interesting.
Chapter nine
Lily
“This is fine. Totally fine. Not inappropriate at all,” I keep whispering to myself the entire drive from my tiny bungalow to the apartment building Jude is living in. The only problem is, I don’t completely believe what I’m saying.
Itiscrossing a line to show up at my patient’s house on a day when we don’t have therapy. The grey area is that Jude and I have a history. He’s more than just a patient, he’s a friend — sort of. I’m just hoping he sees it that way and doesn’t get too mad at me.
It’s been almost two weeks since I started working with Jude and he’s made great progress. He can walk without the crutches for short distances, using a cane for stability when he needs it. But his pain control is inconsistent at best. And Kat told me over beers and nachos at Hastings that he isn’t leaving his apartment except for our appointments and when his siblings drag him out for family dinners. She’s worried; they all are.
The thing is, I don’t think Jude is depressed or anything. I think he’s just caught up in his own head, trying to process the major change to his life and career he’s currently facing. Sure, he’s got some unhealthy coping mechanisms, but he hasn’t come in hungover since I called him out on it last week. He still hasn’t cracked a smile, but Jude was never a smiley kinda guy. He’s always been a little grumpy and a lot quiet. This version of him just has an added dark cloud of stress hanging around.
But that’s why I’m here today. I love having a weekday off; it lets me get a ton of stuff done during the week instead of having to do it all on Sunday. I should be working today since I’m not working Saturday due to the impending nightmare of Marnie and Clay’s wedding. But instead of swapping days, I decided to use a vacation day for Saturday. And having a weekday off is also letting me do this — try to get Jude out of his house and out of his head for a while.
I knock on his door and take a step back, trying not to fidget too much as I wait for him to open up. When he does, my dang heart skips a beat. He’s got this rumpled, scruffy, just woke up look going on that is scrumptious. Add in the grey sweatpants that hang low and leave little to the imagination about what’s going on underneath, and I suddenly feel overly warm.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice rough. I almost question if he just woke up, but it’s after noon already.
“Hi Jude, nice to see you,” I say cheerfully, ignoring his question. “It’s a beautiful day outside and I felt like going for a walk. And you’re going to join me.”
He leans against the doorframe, shifting weight off his bad leg, the therapist in me notes. His rich brown eyes are studying me intently, a small frown line furrowing his brow. “We don’t have an appointment today, Lily.”
Here goes nothing. “I know we don’t. But I’m more than just your physical therapist, I’m also your friend. Or, well, sort of. I mean, I’m your sister’s friend, so I just thought maybe you’d be open to hanging out. We can call it a free bonus session if you want. But it’s not healthy for you to just hole up here all day and not move, so here I am.”
I spread my hands wide, trying to hide my nerves as I smile at him. In retrospect, I know it looks crazy, me just showing up here randomly. He has every right to shut the door on my face. But I’m really hoping he doesn’t.
I like Jude. I mean, more than just being physically attracted to him, I like him. He’s shown me little sneak peeks of the man he used to be, with a dry wit that delivers one-liners like nobody’s business. They’re few and far between, and often at my expense, whether he’s teasing me about dancing with my patients or commenting on my terrible attempts at jokes. Either way, I have a sneaky suspicion he’s letting me in more than he’s letting anyone else in right now.
And that gives me all sorts of warm fuzzies. And makes me more determined than ever to help this man get back to who he was.
“I’m not holed up hereeveryday, I come to see you and I go to family dinner.”
His deadpan response snaps me out of my rambling thoughts. My hands find my hips as I arch my brow at him. “Leaving this apartment four times a week to see me and once a week to see your family is not enough. Get your shoes, we’re going for a walk.”
To my utter shock, Jude doesn’t argue. I watch as he turns around and slowly makes his way into the apartment. My clinical eye assesses his movements, noticing where he’s stiff and where he’s weak.
My not so clinical eye notices how his ass looks when he bends over to pick up his shoes.God bless hockey butts. And the way his muscular torso fills out the T-shirt he’s wearing before he covers it up with a hoodie. He grabs a baseball hat and pushes it on his head, grabs his keys, and turns back to me.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
My heart is thumping wildly as Jude follows me into the elevator that suddenly feels way too small. I’m consumed by all my senses registering his presence all at once. The fresh, clean smell of him — not a hint of alcohol anywhere. The sound of his deep breaths. The sight of his large body leaning against the wall, looking a lot more casual and relaxed than I’m feeling.
A few minutes later, we emerge from his building onto the sidewalk, and I blink against the bright sunlight. One of my favourite things about Dogwood Cove is how close we are to the ocean. A fifteen-minute walk or a three-minute drive puts us at the beach where there’s a gravel path that winds along the edge of the water. Unfortunately, Jude’s leg is not ready for any sort of unstable ground, so we’ll just wander around town.
“If you think you can make it all the way to The Nutty Muffin, coffee is on me.”
Jude doesn’t answer, just inclines his head, and starts walking slowly in the direction of the main square of the town.
“How are you finding the cane? Helpful or a nuisance?” I ask after a couple minutes of silence. I don’t exactly want this to feel like a physical therapy session, but at the same time, if he’s going to be his usual not talkative self, I’ll have to say something.
“It’s fine. Wish I didn’t need it.”
“I understand. Well, I don’t, but I can guess. You won’t need it for long, you’re making great progress.”
All I get is a nod.
