Page 60 of Bent, Not Broken

A ten-pound barbell rested between his feet on the floor, and he had his huge body curled with his elbows on his knees, face in his hands. He wore a white tank top and gray running shorts that had made my mouth water when he slipped them on this morning, but now my heart lurched. Sweat beaded on his exposed skin. His shoulders gleamed under the overhead lights, and even his legs seemed caked in sweat. Next to Evan stood Leighton, the physical therapist, in a brilliant white T-shirt and black workout shorts that made him seem more like a gym-class coach than a medical professional. Almost as short as me, he had soft, rounded cheeks, brilliant red hair, and big splotches of freckles all over his baby face, which seemed to disappear in the rosy flush taking him over as I stared.

“You will not,” Leighton said quietly, “take that attitude in here.”

Mr. Todd was watching from across the room, an ancient man who might have personally seen Pandora’s box. He straightened his stooped shoulders from where he’d allowed himself to slump forward over an exercise bike he pedaled slowly, and even he shook his head with sympathy when I caught his gaze.

“It’s no fucking use!” Evan yelled from between his hands without looking up.

Dropping to my knees next to him, I touched a hand to his sweat-slicked knee. “Whoa, hey—”

“What are you doing back here? I don’t want you here,” Evan growled, and that stung. He’d been living with me, more or less, for nearly two months now, and I’d gotten used to the calmer, less beastly side of him. Therapy always brought this roaring right back out into the open.

While I choked back a nervous laugh that would do anything but help this situation, I pried his hands from his face. He fought me for a second but let me win, and glared directly into my eyes. My heart skipped at what I saw in his blue gaze—fury and fear.

“I heard a bear back here roaring at everyone.”

His hands twitched in mine. “Not hairy enough for that.”

“Loud enough, though. What’s going on?”

Leighton shrugged, and I was happy to see that his color was closer to normal now, tan instead of shocked pink. “Officer Slater isn’t pleased with his progress.”

“Isn’t it—” Fixing a frown on Evan, who averted his eyes, I then transferred my bewilderment to Leighton. “—isn’t it going okay? He’s been doing those exercises you gave him every day at home, and I massage his shoulder the way you showed me to. I swear, we haven’t been lazy. He hasn’t been skipping out on his recovery.” I brushed a hand over the shiny pink scar on Evan’s shoulder.

Leighton sighed, and sadness that left my stomach in a cold knot bled into his expression. “It’s not like impressing me with how much you follow my routine will do the trick. Yes, he needs to do the work, but… it’s his body we’re waiting for. And it’s not cooperating.”

Evan jerked loose of my hold and stared between his feet at the weight. “I’m not getting my fucking range of motion back.” He lifted his right arm slowly and carefully. His hand got almost level with his shoulder, and then Evan’s face ran red. Veins in his neck popped out. He shook and strained, obviously trying to force his arm higher. His entire body quaked. I rubbed at his knee.

“Slater,” Leighton said sharply, and Evan let his arm flop to his side.

“But it’s still early, right?” I asked, not sure if I was talking to Leighton or Evan.

Evan stared across the room toward the massage tables.

Leighton shuffled a few steps closer and ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the strands so that curls tumbled onto his forehead. “He should be further along. When do you go back to the doc?” He directed that question at Evan, who still wasn’t looking at us. His jaw ticked.

“Does he need surgery?” I leaned toward Leighton and then sank back on my knees. “I’ll pay for anything that would help, even if the insurance won’t cover it.”

“No,” Evan hissed between clenched teeth. “You won’t.”

“I will.”

Leighton waved a hand at me, attempting to head us off, obviously having learned that Evan and I will argue at length over next to nothing. “It’s not that easy. I don’t know of a surgery that can fix nerve damage. The muscles have tension and are healthy. The message doesn’t seem to be getting through to move higher. I don’t think it’s something physical therapy will cure, at least not fully, and maybe not ever.”

Evan shot to his feet and left me there on my knees, gaping after him as he practically jogged toward the front of the building.

“Sorry,” I called to Leighton as I bolted after him.

“Should I schedule him for the usual time the rest of the week?” he called after me.

“Yes.”

Evan was almost to the exit when I caught up with him, huffing and puffing with a hand on my side. The girl at the desk and Mrs. Todd both stared at us.

“I’m not going back,” he snarled as he shoved open the glass doors and shot outside to the sidewalk at the front of the building. Early morning humidity latched onto me and I was sweating in my suit in seconds. A lady with a walker coming in froze at the sight of Evan clearly pissed off, standing in all his fist-clenched, shoulder-heaving glory in front of the doors. He sped off toward my car—I’d driven—and I stood there and held the door open for her before I dodged back in to get my briefcase and then chased after him again.

“Yes, you will go back,” I said, resuming our argument without missing a beat as I caught up with him at the car. I sucked air because I’d gotten out of shape, more out of shape, since I had the nice, handy excuse of cuddling him during the evenings. There was damn sure nothing wrong with his legs. “You’ll keep at this until the doctor says it’s pointless.”

Evan smacked the flat of his hand on the hood of the car and the boom made me flinch. I stopped dead as he spun on me, eyes wild. “He already did.”