by Camy Tang
“Oh, Aiden, your friend Spenser called.” The receptionist handed him a message slip. “He said he’d be here in an hour.”
“Thanks.” He frowned at the piece of paper.
Lex tried to peek. “Problems?”
He crumpled the message. “No. Well, what do you think?”
She looked into his eyes, and the calm pooling there made the fluttering in her chest ease. This was Aiden. Her therapist. She had to fight this phobia.
“Okay.”
Lex expected something to explode, or maybe some Hallelujah chorus to erupt. No, none of that. Just Aiden’s slow smile, reassuring and gentle.
He set her up at a table a little apart from where the other therapist worked a shoulder surgery patient. He had her lie on her stomach.
As Lex eased her body down, her shoulder cramped. Then a little pit fire crackled on her lower back. It slowly dulled, but she couldn’t seem to make the rest of her muscles unclench.
“I’ll massage you through your T-shirt.” Aiden’s voice floated over her. He seemed closer to her than he’d ever been, even when stretching her leg. Maybe that’s why she now caught a whiff of soap and fir and musk — just a hint. It soothed her. Her shoulder blades relaxed a tiny bit.
This was Aiden. She trusted him.
He started on her arm — a safe place. She couldn’t stop herself from flinching. He continued his gentle kneading motion up her shoulder.
A brief flash of memory. Her date’s breath against her neck, her apartment carpet burning her elbows and hands as she tried to scramble away. His hand on her arm, pinning her down, pressing her face into the carpet where she breathed in the wine she’d spilled, mold, rancid cooking oil.
She jolted. Aiden paused. “Do you want me to stop?”
“N-no.” She had to fight this.
He continued. “Long, deep breaths.”
Lex complied. Fir and that thread of musk. She imagined it cleansing her as it filled her lungs.
She focused on his hands, kneading slowly. His patience amazed her, but then again, she always moved at breakneck speed.
He massaged up her arms, and then she realized both his hands touched her shoulders and she didn’t flinch, she didn’t mind, she didn’t fear. He rubbed circles in her neck. Oh, that felt nice. The tension at the base of her skull dissolved away. She never noticed the ache behind her eyes until it eased. He hadn’t even touched her back, but the knotted ball at the base of her spine loosened a little.
His fingers pressed, circled, pushed. She barely noticed when he moved down toward her trouble spot. Her back unkinked, the burning cooled. Cool like fir, relaxing like a thread of musk.
“Okay, you’re done.”
The ache hadn’t completely gone away — she still felt tender in that area — but she moved more fluidly than she had in weeks. Her spine didn’t feel like a creaky mass of bones rubbing together.
She sat up. “Thanks, Aiden.” A world of meaning in those words.
Lex knew he heard everything she didn’t say, because his eyes locked with hers for a moment. She felt this strange stretching —almost a physical sensation — like Play-Doh being rolled together. She blinked, and it disappeared.
Besides, she hated Play-Doh.
She started to climb down from the table.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not off the hook. Now that you’re feeling better, we’ve still got your exercises to do.”
Aiden knew he was being irrational, but he hurried Lex through her gym exercises like a drill sergeant. She had to be gone by the time Spenser arrived.
He glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes. If he pushed her a little harder, she’d be done with her ice and stim a few minutes before he came. Hopefully he’d be late, as usual.
She couldn’t meet Spenser. She belonged to him.
There he was, being irrational.
He’d waffled about giving her the massage. He’d given dozens of massages, so the procedure itself didn’t make him uncomfortable, but he knew it would be different with her. He knew that he’d be feeling like this — stronger than King Kong, victorious like an Ultimate Fighting Champion — if she overcame her fear with him.
Aiden didn’t often touch people casually like gregarious Spenser did, but he stared at the nape of her neck as she sat in the machine, wanting to smooth the taut skin. To be comforting, encouraging . . .proprietary.
He never bonded with any of his patients — he kept his professional distance. But he had liked being with Lex even before he tore her ACL. He didn’t know why. He always seemed to catch her at her worst. She created chaos like a tornado through his controlled, ordered world.
“Five more.” His voice sharpened as he drove her on this last rep, but she smiled at him. She complained and whined, but he heard the note of teasing in her tone, the glimmer of mischief in her eyes. She appreciated how he pushed her. She had never mentioned it, but he knew the raging determination in her that rushed her on, focused on her healing and rehab. He could see that rage in her even now, as she grunted and strained to finish the set on the machine.
Why this connection with her? He’d been physically attracted to Trish, but he’d never been tempted by her, and he had rejected her advances without regret. Lex and Trish had too many similarities —face, family, religion. The last one had set his back up every time Trish mentioned it, especially because her actions contradicted the morals she claimed to follow.
Lex switched to the leg press and paused before starting. “Do you remember the first time we met?”
“At the — ” No, she never saw him at the coffee shop — “grass tournament?”
“Yeah. You asked me about church. What did you mean by that?”
Had she read his mind, bringing up the subject he wanted to avoid? “Just curious.”
She grunted as she performed a set. “I’ve been thinking lately.”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
She glared at him, but his bland expression seemed to amuse her. Then her mood shifted, and her eyes skittered away. “Trish . . . came on to you.”
He kept his face impassive, but a burst of tension rippled over his skin at the sound of her name. “Who told you?”
“Richard.”
“Oh. Let’s go, another set.” He tapped the machine. He had to get her out of here.
She sweated and groaned through another fifteen reps. The weights clinked as she finished. “Trish and I became Christians in college.”
He didn’t want to hear this. “Really?”
“But the past few years, she’s been . . . wild. She stopped going to church regularly. With this current boyfriend, she stopped going to church completely.”
This affects me, how? “And?”
“The way you talked about church . . . after what she said about dating non-Christians . . .” Lex sighed.
“Last set.” Aiden leaned against the foot of the machine.
Lex strained through the set, breathing hard as she finished.
“Ice and stim.” Aiden headed to the patient area, Lex trailing behind. Maybe he could distract her and she wouldn’t —“You’re not Christian?”
His lips tightened, but he didn’t face her, so she couldn’t see. “I’m not.”
She didn’t reply, but he knew the topic wasn’t over. She followed him to the patient area and got up on a table. He started attaching the electrodes around her knee.
Lex’s eyes flitted to his face and away, as if she couldn’t quite meet his eyes but she wanted to. “Because of . . . Did Trish? . . . Why? . . .”
Aiden sighed. “Do you really want to get into a discussion?”
“I just want to know.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Her candor never stopped surprising him. He rubbed his forehead. “It’s partly because of Trish, but mostly because of another girl I dated a long time ago who said she was Christian. And before you say not
all Christians are like that — ” He stopped her as she started to interrupt — “I’ve met a lot of hypocritical Christians.”
But then his friend Spenser’s face flickered before his eyes. Spenser, who never nagged or questioned or argued about religion. Aiden thought he was a little too flirty, but Spenser was always there for him as a friend.
He finished attaching the adhesive pads to her knee.
“Am I . . . ?” Lex asked.
She looked at him now. He realized he’d never thought about it with her. “No. I know a few sincerely loving Christians. But I also know plenty of sincerely loving atheists.”
Lex nodded and looked down, but she didn’t say anything.
He needed to hurry. Aiden got her ice bag, wrapped her knee, and started her stim.
He should have just walked away, but he didn’t want to leave her like that. “Look, I’m not one of those people who loves to argue and try to debunk or fluster Christians. But I won’t lie to you or anyone else who asks about what I believe or don’t believe.”
She didn’t seem terribly upset — he had expected more defensiveness. What had he expected from her? Derision? He knew her better than to think she’d react that way.
Instead, she shrugged. “That’s you. That’s fine.”
Somehow, her disappointment sliced like a razor blade.
He kept watch on the clock. She finished her ice with three minutes to spare.
“I’ll wait for you out there.” Lex headed to the waiting area.
The receptionist entered the patient area as he cleaned up, and he turned to her. “Could you please tell Spenser I’ll be back in — ”
“Hi, there.” From the waiting area, the familiar purring voice carried back to him.
Oh, no.
“I’m Spenser.”
“Nice to meet you. Are you always this friendly?”
Her mildly sarcastic reply made Aiden pause as he turned the corner. Spenser hovered next to Lex, who leaned casually against the receptionist’s counter.
“Spenser, this is my patient, Lex.”
“Pleasure.” Spenser used his infamous double-hand clasp. He didn’t seem to notice when Lex’s shoulders snapped tight and her smile hardened. She snatched her hand away.
Aiden couldn’t resist. Maybe he just wanted to test her, to affirm . . . what? He didn’t think. He came up behind her, and making sure Spenser couldn’t see it, he placed a gentle touch at the small of her back.
She didn’t react.
Something bloomed in his chest. It felt like when he made a free throw that swished through the net.
Spenser gave a charming smile. “Aiden isn’t pushing you too hard, is he? I’ll school him for you.”
She regarded him with half-closed eyes and a cool expression. “He pushes me hard enough.”
“How dare he push a sweet thing like you? You put Hershey’s out of business.”
She burst into laughter. “Oh, come on. You can do better than that.”
Aiden had to admit Spenser took it in stride with a warm, more genuine smile than before. However, Aiden wasn’t going to let her stay and taste more of his magnetism, much less discover that he had recently broken up with his girlfriend and was Christian. Although to Aiden right now, he was more like the snake in Eden.
Aiden moved away from her, even though he wanted to stick to her like PB and J, but his physical distance would fool Spenser into believing his professional distance from her. “Sorry, Spenser, but I’m Lex’s ride home. I’ll be back in fifteen.” He headed out the door.
He paused outside so Lex could catch up to him, still staggering in her straight-legged brace. “He works at the same pharmaceutical company as Trish.”
Aiden glanced sidelong at her. “He does?”
“I didn’t actually meet him, but you went out to lunch with him that day I went to eat with Trish.”
Now he remembered. “He’s a good friend.”
“You guys are like oil and vinegar.”
“Who’s the oil, and who’s the vinegar?”
She giggled. Giggled. She’d rarely done that with him. “Oh, you’re definitely the vinegar.”
“So, he’s the oil?”
“Actually it fits him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t get me wrong, he was nice. But he’s also slick. Like my brother Richard.”
Aiden thought he hid his surprise, but she frowned as they waited for the elevator. “What?”
He shrugged. “Most women use words like ‘charming,’ ‘sweet,’ ‘cute.’ ”
Lex guffawed. “Oh, please. I grew up with guys like him. Richard’s the worst out of all my male cousins.” They entered the elevator. “They’re just boys with nice smiles. All my life, I’ve heard what they really think after the girls have gone home.”
Her mobile, expressive face smiled at him. Such a contrast to the slightly cynical mask she had with Spenser. She even looked at him differently than she looked at other guys.
Maybe she was different.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Aw, come on, Venus. Please?” Lex tried to keep her cell phone on her shoulder as she struggled to strap her leg more firmly into her brace.
“No, I’m too busy at work. I already called Trish to come pick you up.”
“Trish? Since when is she my favorite person?” Lex stood and maneuvered past her boxes toward the bathroom.
“Jenn is out of town this weekend — rather conveniently, if you ask me. So it’s either Trish or Mariko.”
Ew. “Okay. When is she coming?”
“I caught her as she left home, so she should be there soon.” A murmuring in the background claimed Venus’s attention. “No, write an action item . . . No, not — Lex, I’ve gotta go.” Click.
The doorbell rang.
Trish had lost weight. Dark bags sagged under her bleary eyes, and her mouth drooped in a petulant frown. “Let’s go.”
Once in the car, Trish broke the silence first. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? We both have to survive Uncle’s birthday party, so let’s just ignore it for now.”
“Fine.” Lex’s teeth clicked together, but she uncrossed her arms.
“So . . . uh . . . How’s PT?”
That’s a loaded question. A few weeks ago, she would have told Trish all about getting the massage, conquering her fear, the triumphant feeling afterward, like . . . an Ultimate Fighting Champion. “It’s going well.” She couldn’t resist adding a little dig. “You know Aiden’s my therapist?”
Trish’s eyes ballooned. “Aiden’s your PT? How is he?”
“He’s really good. All my volleyball friends recommended him.”
Trish sniffed. “Has he bitten your head off about your Christian-ity yet?”
“Is that what he did with you?”
“He kept going on about it. Finally I told him I couldn’t work with him anymore because he wasn’t Christian. I didn’t like him harping on me.”
Harping didn’t sound like Aiden. And her current attitude about Trish didn’t put Lex in a mood to believe her cousin’s version of Aiden.
She kind of liked him, even though he didn’t really fit the List. But he fit one thing she hadn’t thought to add: Someone who doesn’t make me freak out when he touches me.
She wondered if it would go anywhere with him. If not, she wondered if he might be willing to pose as a boyfriend in front of Grandma. Except that would be kind of, well, lying.
They arrived at their uncle’s house, which already rang with childish screaming and collective male groaning — the Giants’ game? Probably.
Eat and leave. Here we go again.
Trish had to park a few blocks away because the earlier arrivals had taken up all the curb space. She grunted in frustration. “I hate walking. Especially in these shoes.”
She started off at a fast clip, then turned to give Lex an impatient look. “Any time this year.”
Lex stumbled after her. The doctor had cleared her off her crutc
hes, but she wished she’d brought them so she could get in a good thwack to the upside of Trish’s head.
As soon as she walked in the door, an uncle’s beer-soaked breath reached her a millisecond before he grabbed at her. “Hey, Lexie, Trish.”
Lex snapped stiffer than an ironing board and shoved him away. Their harmless uncle became overly affectionate when supplied with Miller Genuine Draft.
“Where’s the food?” Trish headed down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen. Another cheer came from the living room —hmm, maybe they were watching the A’s game instead.
“I got you! I got you!”
Lex had only a half-second warning before two of her cousins’ children barreled around the corner of the hallway. They swished past Trish’s skirts and rammed straight into Lex’s brace.
Bonk! The little girl ricocheted off the metal frame and bounced on the wooden floor. The impact sent a sharp jolt through Lex’s knee joint.
“Ow!”
“Waaaaa!”
The child was louder.
The brat — er, kid’s mother hustled into the hallway. “Lex, what did you do?”
“What did I do?”
“You’re the one with bulletproof armor.” Her cousin picked up her battering-ram daughter. “Poor baby. Did the bad Robo-Lex hurt you?”
“Waaaaa!”
The little boy who had been chasing the girl eyed Lex’s steel-encased leg with a speculative grin.
Lex made a threatening move toward him.
He backed off.
Her cousin gasped. “Big bully.”
Lex rolled her eyes and stilted off after Trish’s disappearing skirt.
She found the food, scrambled around on the kitchen table. The kids had already mangled the fruit plate, but the sashimi — fresh raw tuna — fanned out in cool pink glory next to makizushi sushi rolls. Marinated mochiko chicken still steamed, crispy fresh from the deep fryer, and Grandma’s homemade pickled vegetables — takuwan and tsukemono — lay in small dishes next to it.
“Oooh, one of the aunties made shrimp tempura.” Trish piled hand-battered, deep-fried shrimp on a paper plate.
Lex grabbed a plate — this was the only reason to attend these things. Even Grandma muted her nagging when eating good Japanese food.