“Really?” Ivory looks surprised.
“You should come out with us sometime. We're doing drinks again soon. I'll invite you.”
Her face brightens. “I'd like that. It would be nice to actually get to know people around here. We kind of keep to ourselves here in the medical wing.”
We exchange numbers and chat for a few more minutes about the facility and the team. She’s easy to talk to and I have a feeling we’ll be good friends.
After she leaves, I turn back to my computer and try to focus on my work. I update my notes on Ethan's progress and draft my weekly report for Ken and answer a few emails about scheduling.
Then I check the time. It’s almost eleven.
The last week of sessions with Ethan have been easier. After the dinner with Olivia and Theo, the awkwardness between us disappeared. I’m even starting to forget the boundaries we crossed.
Ethan and I make small talk during stretches and he answers my questions with more than one word. It's not comfortable exactly, but it's not the torture it was before.
My skin tingles every time my hands touch his and heat pools low in my belly when I stand too close. When he locks eyes with me, my heart skips and I lose my train of thought completely. The attraction hasn't faded. If anything, it's gotten worse now that I know him better.
But I'm handling it. I'm professional and appropriate and I keep my hands where they belong.
Today is a big day. Ken and I agreed that Ethan is ready to transition from crutches to a cane. It's a significant milestone and I want it to go well.
I gather my things and head to treatment room three.
Ethan is already there, sitting on the table with his crutches propped against the wall. He's wearing his usual workout clothes and his hair is still damp from the shower. He looks up when I enter and gives me a small nod.
“Morning,” he says.
“Good morning. How are you today?”
“Fine. Knee's a little stiff but nothing unusual.”
“We'll work on that. Let's start with some stretches.”
We move through the warm-up routine that has become familiar over the last couple of weeks. I guide his leg through the exercises and he cooperates without complaint. The silence between us is companionable now, punctuated by occasional comments about his progress or questions about his pain levels.
I'm adjusting his position for a quad stretch when the door opens and Ken walks in. He's carrying a beautiful black cane with a silver handle and his face is split in a wide grin.
“Special delivery,” he announces.
Ethan's eyes lock onto the cane and his eyes widen.
“Natalie tells me you're ready for an upgrade,” Ken says. He crosses to where the crutches lean against the wall and picks them up with exaggerated ceremony. “These have served you well, but their time has come.”
“You're being dramatic,” Ethan mutters.
“I'm celebrating a milestone.” Ken holds out the cane. “Congratulations, Ethan. You've earned this.”
Ethan takes the cane and turns it over in his hands. He runs his thumb along the handle and tests the weight of it. Then hestands, planting the cane firmly on the floor and taking a few experimental steps.
The difference is immediate. He stands taller without the crutches.
“How does it feel?” I ask.
“Good.” He takes another step, then another. “Better.”
Ken beams like a proud father. “Keep up the good work. Both of you.” He tucks the crutches under his arm and heads for the door, then pauses and turns back to me. “Natalie, did you get the memo about the Summer Skills Showcase?”
“I did.”
