Her presence at Insanity came as a fluke, one favor traded for another. When she’d approached Forest over a month ago, not once had she anticipated his demand for a favor in return.
Evidently, Bent had fired a string of physical therapists before her, all male, and all rather explosively. At least that’s what Skye had told her. No one wanted to work with Bent and Forest had found himself at the end of his rope. He needed his bassist. Ryker Lyons had stood in for a couple months. The band had then taken a break while Ash and Bash worked on a new album. They had planned on a six-month break, but without Bent, there was no band. No touring. No music.
Ryker Lyons had stepped in, but he was a temporary fix. Forest’s pet project pulled Ryker and his wife, Tia, away, and it was in Piper’s best interests to make sure their project took off.
Of course, she’d agreed to Forest’s trade. How hard could it be to provide personal, intensive, physical therapy to one man? Knowing Forest, she should have asked more questions about her client, but she’d been desperate. Evidently, Forest had been too.
A long string of expletives pealed out the small bathroom window and carried on the breeze. The corners of her mouth twitched up.
“You gotta be kidding me. Fucking shit on a shingle. Piper!”
She shook her head, but took her time coming to his rescue. The man needed to learn self-sufficiency and self-dependence. His reliance on others would cripple him, in more ways than just physical, if it continued much longer.
That was her job. Get Angel Fire’s bassist back to playing, but he was a royal pain in the ass. And he refused to put in the work that would help him regain full use of his mangled arm.
Even now, his curses surged through the room as he attempted very basic tasks.
“Be there in a second.” She called out, letting him know she was outside. There was no reason to hurry.
He was more obstinate than all of her previous clients combined. A bit of regret accompanied that part of her agreement with Forest. Her position came with a full-time commitment, which meant all her clients had been transferred to other physical therapists. She missed the kids. They celebrated the small victories and suffered more. Many of them had permanent deficits.
Unlike Bent, they didn’t have a chance of getting better. They were simply learning to make the best of what they had. In contrast, Bent focused only on what he couldn’t do, rather than what he’d regained. Nothing but his pig-headed attitude stood in his way toward recovery. His problem was that he wallowed in his injury. She needed to find something that he wanted bad enough that he would work for it.
Whatever it was.
He came out of the shower, a towel wrapped loose around his hips. The towel hid nothing underneath and merely accentuated his well-endowed assets, which she should not be staring at. With a jerk, she forced her gaze anywhere but at the prominent bulge cupped between his powerful thighs.
The man was insufferable. Insufferable and insanely hot.
“What took you so damn long?” His words came as a rolling thunder, full of anger and accusation.
“You do not need me to help you shower.”
“I needed help.” His full lips twisted into a sexy pout. “You could’ve picked up the soap for me.”
“Your legs aren’t broken. It seems you managed just find. Congratu-fucking-lation on taking your first shower alone.”
“Don’t swear, Piper. It doesn’t sit well with you.”
“You cuss often enough. I think I’m due a swear word or two.”
He shook his head. “I’m different.”
She put her hands to her hips. “The rules are different for you than they are for me?”
“As a matter of fact, they are. No more swearing. That’s an order.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“I’m serious, Piper.”
“And if I do?” What would he do? Bent couldn’t fire her, only Forest could.
Bent gripped the towel and the bulge between his legs twitched.
Piper gulped, realizing the sudden tension swirling in the air.
“Don’t test me on this. Pretty girls shouldn’t swear.”
He thought she was pretty?
“How about a trade?”
“No trade. I said no swearing, and that means you don’t swear.”
“That’s funny, Growly, but that’s not how this works.” She could definitely use this to her advantage. “You give me one-hundred percent during our sessions and I promise to keep my language clean, but the same goes for you.”
“Bull shit. I’m already giving you something.”
“You’re giving me what you should give every session we have together, but you’re nothing but a royal pain in the ass.”
He cocked his head, and the towel flicked.
Do not look down. For the love of all that is holy…Do. Not. Look. Down.
But she did. Her gaze dropped. Holy shit!
He snickered. “You know, instead of torturing me, we could spend the next two hours doing something much more fun.”
Clamping her mouth shut, she found the courage to meet his smirk.
Their physical therapy sessions put them in close physical proximity, which was going to make the next two hours more than unbearable.
She pointed to the deck outside. “I prefer torture.”
Torture
Piper
Torture might have been preferable to the two hours Piper had been forced to spend in close proximity with the insufferable Angel Fire bassist. It didn’t take but fifteen minutes before the first complaints began.
It’s too hard.
Too difficult.
Too stupid.
Too dumb.
This is pointless.
She loved that last one. Despite her prodding, she couldn’t persuade Bent to try. Fast forward to the end of the session and he’d chucked the pen she’d given him for one of the fine motor exercises after a spectacular fit.
“The most difficult thing,” she said, “is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. Do you know who said that?”
His brows drew together, forming a deep furrow between his eyes. A dark, stormy expression clouded his expression. “You spouting quotes at me now?”
She pointed at the pen perched precariously at the edge of the decking. The slightest movement would send it tumbling a hundred feet down to the rocky beach below.
“If that falls over the edge, you’re going to spend the rest of the afternoon looking for it.”
He glanced at the cheap plastic pen. “Fuck that.”
Her gaze cut to the pen and then back to him. “You think I’m kidding?”
“And what exactly are you going to do about it? You weigh what? A buck ten? Fifteen at most? There’s no way in hell you’re able to make me do anything.”
“I can make you pick up that damn pen.” A glance at her watch had her blowing out a breath. Another ten minutes and she would be free of the irritable man.
When he crossed his arms, his left bicep bulged; the right side, not so much. Every day brought greater loss of definition to his injured arm. She had to find a way to motivate him. Something that would break through the mental block in his head.
The persistent ocean breeze rocked the pen, not enough to move it, but it would only take a gust to send it hurtling over the edge.
“Pick up the pen, Bent.”
She tried giving an order, but he dismissed her with a shake of his head. The littlest thing with him became a battle of wills. He would refuse, if only because she told him to do it. He scratched at his withered arm and glanced over the bannister to the pounding surf below.
Maybe she needed to try a different approach?
“What do you like doing the most?” she asked.
He snapped his head around to stare at her. A look of surprise passed fleetingly over his features only to be replaced far too quickly with a scowl.
Such a shame that his rugged handsomeness was wasted on h
im being so difficult.
“What’s this? You’re going to pretend to care about me? Get inside my head? It’s not going to work.”
“It has nothing to do with caring about you, or getting inside your head.” Except it had everything to do with that. “I was simply making conversation.”
“I like playing bass.” He lifted his right arm. “But that’s kind of shot.”
There was little use arguing. The man was as thick in the head as he was across his chest.
“You’re wrong about that.”
“About playing?” He wriggled his fingers, or tried to. The withered digits barely moved. “Are you blind? I’ll never play guitar again.”
“Want to bet?”
“You must like losing.”
“I’ve worked with people with injuries far worse than yours. They managed to regain function. You will too.”
“Regain function?” His gaze skittered over to the pen. “Girl, there’s a huge difference between regaining function and playing bass. That’s not something that just comes back. My guitar days are over.”
“Only because you’ve given up before even trying.”
“I’m trying. Maybe you just suck at your job. Ever considered that?”
“You can be a real ass.”
“What did I say about swearing?”
“If I remember correctly, you were supposed to give me one-hundred percent. Since you failed to hold up your end of the bargain, I get to swear as much as I goddamn well please. Now, pick up the damn pen. You let your frustration get the better of you. That’s not one-hundred percent. And you’ve wasted the last five fucking minutes arguing with me. It would’ve taken you less than five-seconds to pick up the damn pen.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now how’s that for fucking swearing?”
A strong gust blew up the cliff face, swirling around them with wild abandon. The pen wobbled and rolled away from the edge, but the swirling winds circled back around. A strong gust blew and the pen continued on a path of inevitability. It dropped over the edge.
She bit back her frustration. “Great.”
“Who the fuck cares? It’s just a pen.”
“Right.” She pulled out her phone. “Just a pen.”
Except it hadn’t been just a pen. It had been the pen. The last thing she had left from her brother.
She walked to the railing and peered down below. There was no sign of the pen. Fortunately, Bent’s balcony overlooked an area of the beach devoid of boulders. She would only have to search the rocky sand, but she’d have to hurry. The tide was coming in.
“You know,” she called out over her shoulder, “it’s never too late to be what you might have been.”
“More fucking quotes?”
“How about this one. It suits you perfectly. What you think, you become.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“If you believe you’ll fail, then you will. If you believe you’ll succeed, then you will. I’ve seen more determination in five-year-olds than I have in you. You don’t want to get better, which makes me wonder…what exactly are you afraid of?”
With that, she stalked away, leaving all her physical therapy gear outside. Bent would probably leave it out there. He wasn’t the kind of person who thought about others, cared about others, or did anything for anyone else. Hell, he didn’t even do anything for himself.
Not that she cared. Unlike the pen, she could replace any and all of her physical therapy gear. What she couldn’t replace was that pen.
* * *
Piper stomped through the massive estate, fingers clenched tight into balls of suppressed fury. She passed no one. Ash and Skye had taken a week’s vacation to Hawaii. Ryker and Tia had gone to visit family. They had a wedding to plan. Bash, Noodles, and Spike were around somewhere, but it wasn’t unusual not to see people for days at a time.
She did run into Forest on her way to the gondola house. He was outside at the never-ending swimming pool. The competitive length pool suspended out over the edge of the cliff. She refused to get in the pool. Forest loved it, he said, because when he swam over that part, it felt like falling. She thought the pool could crack any moment and send her plunging down to her death. No way in hell would she ever dip her toes in that death trap.
He wasn’t in the pool, however. Forest had brought the power of his computer outside. He had a complicated mess of wires and monitors set back from the pool. Considering how electricity and water didn’t mix, it seemed an odd place to set up shop.
But Forest loved the outdoors. Sitting inside, he said, felt like death. Knowing a little about his childhood and the similarities hers shared, she understood. Like him, she’d often been locked up inside, forbidden to leave the confines of the house.
“How’s it going?” The deep rumble of Forest’s voice had her pulling up short.
Would he let her quit? Should she ask? If she did, would he take back his offer to help?
She turned to face him.
Forest had lifted his virtual reality goggles. High tech gloves sheathed his massive hands, and wires trailed from both to a band around his waist. Forest had taken his VR obsession outside, which didn’t make any sense. Wasn’t that kind of gear for geeks who lived indoors? But she understood, the warmth of the sun rained down on them. The crispness of the ocean breeze filled each breath with rejuvenation. He was out here for the exact reason she’d taken Bent’s physical therapy session outside.
“How’s it going?” She arched a brow. “Bent’s a damn man-child. He’s worse than a two-year-old.”
A seabird called out, squawking to its friends. The small flock of birds dipped and soared, catching thermals coming off the cliffs. She wished she were one of them, free to fly away.
Forest huffed a laugh. “It’s going that well?”
“He’s insufferable and impossible. I understand why nobody wants to work with him.”
“You need to figure him out, Piper. Don’t give up.”
“Why? Because you think he’s going to have some magical breakthrough?”
“Don’t you?”
She shrugged and vented a deep sigh. “It’s been two weeks, and we’ve made zero progress. Hell, he may even be backsliding. Every day he loses more definition. I can’t even get him to go to the gym and work on his good arm. The man’s depressed. Maybe you need to hire a psychiatrist?”
“Bent doesn’t need a shrink. I need him back with the band. You need to figure out how to make that happen.”
“Forest, he’s hopeless.”
“Hopeless? Come, Piper, you’ve worked with far worse, hopeless cases that you’ve worked magic on.”
“But…”
“Do you really think he’s hopeless?”
“No. And that’s why it’s so infuriating. I met with his doctors. I’ve seen his x-rays, the nerve conduction studies, and I’ve gone over all his previous notes. He should be able to make a full recovery.”
“Then you need to figure out what’s holding him back.”
“I need a goddamn miracle.”
Forest glanced in the direction she had been headed. “Where are you going?”
“Down to the beach.” She gave a huff and splayed her fingers out wide before they permanently curled into fists.
“What did he do now?”
“Nothing.” He lost my pen!
“Do I need to have a talk with him?”
“Do you think it would do any good?”
He blew out a breath. “I think we’re all more than a little frustrated with Bent.”
“Well, if you do see him, tell him to stop acting like a child. I don’t know if I can handle much more of this.”
“You’ll do just fine. If anyone knows how to tackle a tough case, it’s you.”
“He fired me again.”
“Today?”
“No, last Friday.”
“Well, he doesn’t get to fire you.”
“No. But you can.” She gave a hopeful express
ion and curled her lower lip between her teeth. A girl could wish, right?
Forest’s perpetual smile widened. “You know I won’t.”
“I know…which is why I’m headed down to the beach. I need to find something your buddy dropped.”
“Need any help?” He tugged the VR goggles off his head.
“No. You look like you’re having fun.”
“I’m trying out something new.” His entire being lit up. Forest excited was a wonder to behold. “You want to see?” He turned, looking for something. Probably another headset and gloves.
“You mean go inside your virtual world?” She took a step back.
Getting shoved inside a virtual world felt a little too much like being kept prisoner inside a house. She hadn’t had flashbacks for several years, but thought an experience like that might set one off.
“Yeah, it’s really cool.” His gaze cast about the table he’d set up that held all his high-tech gear. “Give me a second and I’ll get you set up.”
“Maybe some other time.” The relentless tide would soon cover the beach below, and when it receded it would take the pen with it.
“Why do you look like you want to retch?”
“I don’t know.” She struggled to explain. “I don’t think I’d do well trapped in there.”
“Trapped? There’s no trapped.” But then he paused. “Oh, Piper, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize, but honestly, it’s nothing like that.”
They had both had traumatic encounters with basements.
“Maybe some other time. I need to find my pen.”
“On the beach?” His brows lifted. “Is that what Bent threw over?”
“He didn’t exactly throw it over.” Although it had been one-hundred percent his fault.
“If he did, his ass should be on that beach, not yours.”
“That’s what I tried to tell him.” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. The breeze coiled around her body, touching her with the lightest caress. “It’s okay. I need a bit of a breather after the last couple hours.”
Hearts Collide Page 3