I’m not that beaten down woman anymore. I’m strong. I can do this. After a few deep breaths, I work up the courage to open the door. The heat of the sun warms my face as I lean against the car door. I can do this. One step at a time, the saying on repeat in my head, I make my way across the hot pavement toward the double doors. A blast of cool air hits me as soon as I pull open the door and move toward the reception desk. The smiling redhead sitting there reminds me of Camryn, and my heart aches at how much I miss my friends.
Trying to hide the frown tugging at the corners of my lips, I slide the paperwork from the doctor’s office across the smooth surface.
“How can I help you today?”
“Dr. Tomlin’s office made me an appointment for this afternoon.”
“What’s your name?” She turns her attention to the screen in front of her and starts typing on the keyboard.
“Mallory Stephens.”
“Yes, we have you down. Let me get you the paperwork to fill out. Daniel will be with you shortly. Also, I need your driver’s license and insurance card.”
Reaching into my bag, I scrounge around for my wallet and pull out the requested items as she pushes over an inch-thick stack of papers. My eyes go wide, wondering what the hell is in this paperwork, especially since Dr. Tomlin’s office had sent over all the information, including my insurance. I mean…seriously. I slow blink before reaching out for the clipboard and taking a seat.
In my peripheral, a pair of shoes heading in my direction catch my attention. My eyes travel from the gray sneakers, up the muscular legs encased in black scrubs, to the narrow waist, and broad shoulders until I reach a face that could be Sam Heughan’s twin. I swear, if you put this man in a kilt he would look like he stepped right out of eighteenth century Scotland. I manage, barely, to refrain from checking to make sure I’m not drooling. If the man speaks with an accent, I’ll fall straight out of this chair.
“Mallory?” My butt is safe. Not a Scottish accent to be heard. He doesn’t have much of one at all. I rise from my chair, clutching the clipboard in front of me.
“That’s me.”
“Hi. I’m Daniel. I’ll be the physical therapist overseeing your case. Come on back. We’ll get your evaluation done and see if we can get a ballpark of what you’re going to need.” He extends his hand and I place mine in his. With a firm grasp, he lets go before stepping back.
“Sounds great.” He leads the way toward the machinery in the back and has me sit on top of a padded table—basically, forcing me to leap to get up there. Short girl problems.
“Go ahead and take off your shoe and sock so I can get your ankle’s range of motion.”
As I remove the items, I send up a silent prayer that my foot doesn't stink. At least my toenails look good. Daniel rolls up to the table on a chair, placing one hand beneath the arch of my foot and the other on the back of my ankle. His hand practically dwarfs my entire foot.
“I’m going to just move this around to see where you may have any weakness or pain. Then I’ll have you push and pull your foot, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Any major pain, you let me know. You’re going to have some residual soreness, but nothing should cause significant pain.”
Gently, he moves my ankle around, left to right, flex and extend. His hand moves up the back of my leg a little, and I cringe, sending up another prayer that I shaved. Nothing like a hot guy rubbing on leg stubble to gross him out. But the callouses on his hand feel good as he softly kneads my muscle.
“All right, Mallory. I want you to push the ball of your foot as hard as you can into the palm of my hand.” Pushing into his hand, the muscle tightens.
“Good. Now pull your toes toward you while I hold you.” Flexing my foot toward me is a harder to do. He lowers my leg and lets it go.
“Not bad. You didn’t lose as much strength or mobility as I would have thought with the extent of your sprain,” he states as he writes on his tablet.
“Well, I started to do some small exercises a few times a week a couple weeks ago. Nothing too strenuous. Just making circles with my foot and trying to write the alphabet. At first, I could only make it through about half before I would wear out. But now I can do the whole thing.”
“Have you had therapy for a sprain before?”
“No, but the internet is a wonderful thing.” The corner of his mouth raises into a half smile and I want to swoon.
“Sometimes. And sometimes, it’s the worst thing invented.”
“That’s true too. We have people come in the ER self-diagnosing off WebMD and thinking they’re dying when it’s usually something simple.”
“Which ER do you work in?”
“Nowhere right now. I moved back to Dallas a few weeks ago. I don’t start my new job until after the first of the year. I wanted to make sure I would be able to handle a full twelve-hour shift on that ankle.”
“With the proper therapy, I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Let’s move over there. We can work on some more exercises and get you a treatment plan.”
He may be cute, but he’s a task master. We move from exercise to exercise, and sweating is dripping off me by the time we’re done. The last thing he has me do is work on my balance, standing on my bad ankle with my arms out to my sides. I last about twenty seconds before I list to the side—right into the hot ass therapist. He catches me by the arms, but it’s Todd’s hands I feel. My chest tightens. My vision pinpoints on his hands. And it all goes black.
Slowly blinking, my eyes open. Blinding lights sear my retinas causing me to jerk my arm up to cover my face. Movement to my right has me jolting away.
“Mallory. It’s okay. It’s me, Daniel. You fainted. Can you hear me?” he asks, concern apparent in his voice.
“Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” I lie, feeling along the smooth surface of the…floor. My eyes snap shut as I will the embarrassment away.
“I’m just glad I was here so you didn’t hit the floor straight on. Do you want to try to sit up?”
At my nod, he runs his arms behind my shoulders and helps me into a sitting position.
“Take it easy. No rush. Let your body adjust. Would you like some water?” Again, I nod, and the girl from the receptionist desk hurries over with a bottle of water. Removing the cap, Daniel hands it to me. I take a small swallow, then another.
“I think I’m all right. I’m more embarrassed than anything right now. Can you help me up off the floor?” Taking the bottle from me, he twists the cap on and places it on the floor before standing and extending his hand toward me. I place my hand in his, allowing him to help pull me up.
“This is a first. Never had a girl faint on me before,” he chuckles. I give him a small smile, and he leads me to a chair.
“Have a seat. I’ll go grab your stuff from the table so you can put it back on.” He walks away, and my eyes drift over his back and down… He looks just as good from the back as the front. Damn, I never thought of scrubs as sexy, but he can fill a pair out.
“Give me just a second to get you the list of exercise that you need to do and you’ll be free to go,” he says, snapping me out of my reverie. I take my sock and shoe from him before he goes about doing just as he said.
My phone vibrates in my purse, and I lift it up, finding a message from Jason wanting to know if everything went well and if I was still going with him on Wednesday to his sister’s house. As annoying as it is to have him checking up on me, it makes my heart lighter knowing he cares enough to bother. I send him a quick yes to both questions as Daniel walks back toward me.
“The phone has made an appearance,” he announces, then laughs.
“Sorry, just a quick text,” I say, dropping the phone back in my purse.
“Boyfriend?”
“No, he’s just a friend wanting to make sure I made it through today.”
“Was he worried?’
“Probably. He’s kinda protective of me.”
“Good fri
end. Okay, here’s the list of exercises I want you to do along with how many reps of each.” He holds out a little spiral bound book for me to take. “For the balance ones, stand in a doorway or beside a chair for extra stability. We’re closed on Thursday and Friday for Thanksgiving. Can you come on Wednesday?”
“If it’s early, I probably can. I’m supposed to head to Houston that day.”
“I think we can do that. Around eight-thirty?”
“That should work just fine. If not, I’ll give you a call.”
“I’ll get you on the schedule. Make sure to wear your brace. Try to avoid any strenuous cardio until that ankle gets stronger. No running or jumping. Biking and swimming are fine. But if anything causes you extreme pain, don’t push it. If you’re ready, I’m going to walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“No, I don’t, but I’m still going to. My mother raised me with manners,” he says as he opens the glass door for me. As soon as I walk outside, a chill from the cooling air wraps around me. Shivering, I rub my hands up and down my arms to warm them as I step off the curb toward my car.
“Nice car,” he says, running his hand along the trunk.
“Thanks. I just picked it up today. Haven’t gotten to drive it much yet.”
“Be careful on the way home, Mallory. I’ll see you Wednesday morning.”
“See ya Wednesday.”
On the way home, sadness wells up as my mind wanders to Kristen and Camryn. A wave of loss and nostalgia flow through me at not being able to call them to dish about my hottie therapist and how I embarrassed the hell out of myself in front of him. Then, remembering why the hell I became embarrassed in the first place, thoughts of my friends dim as regret and a healthy dose of guilt roll through me.
These girls are my best friends, and with all my heart, I know they would have my back, so why am I not confiding in them? Hell, they would have driven to Colorado and dragged my butt back to Texas after the first time he hit me. My heart clenches at how lonely I feel—how isolated I’ve made myself.
Pulling into the complex, my gaze automatically hones in on Jason’s normal parking spot, but it’s empty, and another wave of emotion washes through me, though I’m not sure whether I’m relieved he’s gone, or anxious because I don’t know where he is. Not that it’s my business. It’s not like we’re in a relationship. Hell, we aren’t even dating. God, you are such an idiot, I think as I gather my things and head into my apartment. Relaxation is my priority. After pouring a glass of wine, I fill the bathtub with hot water, turn on my iPod to some Ed Sheeran, and soak my worries away.
Jason
Knocking on Mallory’s door, my emotions are turbulent. I’ve missed her so much over the past two days—miss spending time with her, miss her laugh and smile. But it’s my fault. I had texted her to make sure her therapy went okay on Monday and to confirm she was still going to Houston with me on Wednesday, but there’s been a distance between us that has been wearing me down.
Her footsteps sound louder as she gets closer to the door, and I lean against the doorframe, trying to look casual. The locks on the door are turned one by one, and my breath catches as the door opens, the urge to pull her to me and kiss her breathless so powerful, I have to consciously stop myself from reaching out. Her beautiful eyes meet mine, and the uncertainty I see there makes my heart hurt.
“Mornin’. You ready to ride?” I say, casual, like I’m completely unaffected and nothing is different between us.
“As ready as I’m going to be. Are you sure you want to take me to therapy first? You’ll probably be bored.” Casting her eyes down, she tucks a stray piece of hair behind her delicate ear before looking back up at me from under her lashes.
“It’s not a problem. We can get some breakfast after you’re done and get on the road. Or did you eat already?”
“I’ve had coffee, but that’s it.”
“We have a plan then. Let me grab your bag and we’ll get this show on the road.”
She hands me the little suitcase she pulled behind her. Pushing my duffle up higher on my shoulder, I grasp the handle on her navy-blue case, and she leads the way down the stairs, ponytail swaying against her back.
There’s not a lot of traffic on the way to the therapy center, the parking lot nearly vacant aside from a few cars parked toward the back of the lot. After helping her out of the truck, she leads me into the building. Watching her move to the receptionist’s desk, I can’t help but wish her white top was not covering her amazing ass. A door opens in the back, and a tall, redheaded guy comes into the area. His face lights up when he sees her conversing with the receptionist. I hope he isn’t her therapist, but that thought is quickly dashed when he moves to stand beside her. She glances up at him and flashes him a smile, and my chest tightens. I covet those smiles. She hasn’t smiled near enough since she came home. I should be grateful she’s smiling that way at all, but envy courses through my veins. She turns toward me, that smile still gracing her sweet face, and hurries over.
“Can I leave my purse with you? I know some guys are weirded out by a woman’s purse.”
“Of course, Mal. I think my manhood is safe, purse or not.”
“Thanks, Jase.”
As she turns away, my eyes move back to Big Red, finding him staring in our direction. I give him a small nod, letting him know I see him. As she reaches him, he speaks to her, but they’re too far away for me to make out what they’re saying. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she shakes her head, and my eyebrow raises in question, wondering what that was about.
Pulling my phone out, I try to distract myself, but it’s pointless. My eyes are drawn to whatever she’s doing, and every time that damn therapist places his hand on any part of her, I clench my fist, just waiting to knock him out for touching what should be mine. Not that he’s doing anything inappropriate, I just don’t want his hands anywhere near her. After what feels like an eternity, she’s moving in my direction, Big Red trailing behind her, checking out her ass.
“Done already?” I ask her while glaring at him. Eyes up, fella.
“All done. Jason, this is Daniel, my physical therapist. Daniel, this is my friend, Jason.”
We shake hands, gripping tight. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for helping Mallory get back on her feet.”
“It’s my pleasure. Mallory said you were heading to Houston for the holiday.”
“Yeah, to my sister’s house.”
“Well, you have a safe trip. Mallory, I’ll see you next week. Make sure you’re set up for three times a week. And don’t forget to do your exercises the rest of the week.”
“Thanks, Daniel. I will. Y’all have a Happy Thanksgiving.” After giving him a small wave, she strolls over to the receptionist’s desk.
“It was nice to meet you, Jason. Take care of her. She’s special.”
“Don’t worry, I will. She’s more special than you’ll ever know.”
It was smooth sailing on the drive to Houston. My sister lives just on the outskirts north of the city, thus saving us from the Houston traffic. Parking in front of the small brick home she shares with my niece, I exit the truck and Emma’s laughter floats to me from the backyard.
“Come on. We’ll get the bags out later,” I say, glancing down at Mallory. Her hands ball up the hem of her shirt, and I furrow my brow. “Hey. You okay?” A nod is all I get in response. Placing a fingertip under her chin, I force her to look up at me. Once her eyes meet mine, the uncertainty from earlier shines bright.
“Talk to me.”
“I don’t—what if they don’t like me?” she blurts out, her eyes averting again before coming back to mine. “They’re going to be stuck with me for a couple days. I don’t want it to be awkward.”
“Why wouldn’t they like you? You’re great. I’ve told my sister about you. I’m more worried about Emma bugging you to death. That girl is like the Tasmanian Devil. She never stops.”
“I like kids, so that won’t b
e a problem.” Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Reaching down, I lace my fingers through her and draw her close to my side as we walk around the side of the house. I spy Emma jumping on the trampoline inside the safety screen, dark hair flying in all directions. She gets a few more bounces in before she spots us walking toward the fence.
“Uncle Jase! He’s here, Momma!” she exclaims in her excited little voice.
We halt outside the gate to wait for one of them to open it, knowing it will take a while for Emma to stop bouncing and get out of the screen.
“Wait, Momma. Wait! I wanna open it!”
“Well, hurry it up, Curly. He may disappear before you get out of that thing.”
“No, he won’t,” Emma giggles, and I swear it’s one of my favorite sounds in the world. The heavy wooden gate swings open and a flurry of dark, curly hair launches toward me as I drop Mallory’s hand to catch the little dynamo.
“Hey there, Curly. You’ve grown a ton since the last time I saw you. What are you, twelve now?”
“No,” she laughs. “I’m six.”
“Are you sure?” Tickling her ribs, her contagious laughter echoes through the air, only to stop when she notices Mal behind me.
“Who’s that?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I notice she has taken a couple steps back from us and grasp her hand, drawing her back to my side.
“This is my friend, Mallory. She lives in the apartment next to mine. Mallory, this is my niece, Emma.”
“Hello, Emma. It’s nice to meet you.”
Emma mutters a soft response and buries her face in my neck.
“Gonna act all shy on me, Emma girl?” She nods her head against my shoulder.
We walk through the gate into the backyard, one arm holding Emma to me and the other pulling Mallory behind me. My sister is standing next to the house rinsing her hands off with the water hose. Noticing the tools and mulch sitting on the ground, I assume she’s been working in her flower beds again. After turning the water off, she wipes her hands on her jeans to dry them off.
Break Me Down: Silver Tongued Devils Series Book 2 Page 11