Aspen lets out a soft, melodic laugh, the first one I’ve heard in days. She looks back outside the doors to the field where Croix is and then shakes the paper at me with her hand on her hip. “What am I going to do with you two?”
I just shake my head.
Old Croix and Luca, indeed.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
POLICE, Pop-Ups + the Croix of it All
Aspen
After his lecture about walking around without crutches, Dr. Shoup’s face is a mask of professional disappointment as he winds a fresh compression wrap around Luca’s knee. The home gym feels smaller with Luca’s massive frame taking up the massage table, his jaw clenched in a tight line of penance as he avoids the doctor’s gaze.
“You’re lucky, Luca,” Shoup says, pinning the bandage. “This type of MCL tear is a fickle beast. That fall could have easily turned a partial tear into a full rupture, and then we’d be talking about a surgery instead of the bed rest I’m about to put you on.”
Luca looks like he’s ready to argue, but Dr. Shoup holds up a hand, cutting him off before he can even start.
“No arguments, Luca. You are on strict, non-weight-bearing rest for the next seventy-two hours. Crutches are non-negotiable. I want you to follow the POLICE protocol.”
“The what, now?” Luca asks, his brow furrowing. “Are you calling the cops on my knee, doc?”
I step in, trying to make it sound a bit less like a punishment. “It’s just an acronym to keep you on track,” I explain. “Protection and Optimal Loading—which, in your case, is a fancy way of saying sit your ass down. Then Ice, Compression, and Elevation. Basically, if you aren't sitting on the couch—”
“Or in bed?” He offers, winking.
I shake my head. “If you aren’t somewhere with your leg in the air, you’re doing it wrong.”
He winks again and smiles. “Legs in the air. Noted.”
Dr. Shoup nods in agreement, his expression grim. “And if I hear even a rumor of you putting weight on this leg before Thursday, I’m calling the front office and recommending a benching for the next few games of the season. Am I clear?”
I stand by the door, already mentally scrolling through my digital calendar. Between my three home-visit patients tomorrow and a full afternoon at the clinic, my schedule is a wreck. I’ll have to push the morning appointments and see which consultations I can pivot to telehealth. If Luca is going to be immobile, he’s going to need a handler. And I’m reminded, I’m the only one with the clearance and the sanity, to manage his brand of assholery.
After Dr. Shoup and me help Luca onto the sofa, the doctor turns to me with a lingering, professional look that suddenly shifts into something morepersonal.
“I ordinarily wouldn’t offer unsolicited advice to a nurse, but since you’re his wife, allow me to…” He pauses, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Allow me to offer a bit of wisdom from an old and happily married man. Sex is good for you.”
Luca lets out a nervous, strained giggle. “Oh, Doc. You really don’t have to—”
“It’s fine, son. I have a daughter your age. I know how it is with young couples. You’re far more active than my wife and me ever were.”
“Right,” I interject, trying to head off the incoming train wreck. “Dr. Shoup, I think what Luca’s trying to say is—”
But the old man is already in too deep. “Sex is perfectly fine, provided you aren't reckless. But I’m afraid, Aspen, you’ll have to do most of the heavy lifting for a while,” the good doctor says. I shake my head, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.
“Thank you, Dr. Shoup. Truly excellent advice,” Luca says. I can hear the arrogance vibrating in his voice.
“And masturbation works just fine, too, right, Doctor? Because last I checked, my husband’s hands weren't on the injured list.”
Dr. Shoup lets out a hearty laugh, missing the spike of tension between us. “Sure thing, Luca. Justhandleyourself with care.”
I am not proud of how loudly I laugh.
As Dr. Shoup packs his bag and heads for the elevator, the doors slide open before he can even reach for the button. My heart stops.
It feels like a twisted case of déjà vu when I see someone stepping off that elevator just as Luca and I are finally about to settle in for the evening.
And I don't miss the slip of my own mind. The way I’m able to settle here. How I’ve started calling his place home.
