Page 83 of Dream On, Liar

Just until I finally shifted my gaze from her to the ceiling and let my arm settle into her hands.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

The word caught me off guard, my mind routing back to the horrified look I’d spotted on her face yesterday morning.

“I'm going to move it passively now,” she said, bringing my attention back to the room. “You don't help me. I'll do the work.”

“I don't like the sound of that.”

“I know.” From the corner of my eye, I noticed her mouth curved faintly.

Then she began.

Her hand supported my elbow while the other steadied my wrist, guiding the injured arm through the smallest possible arc. I felt every millimetre. The first movement was tolerable. The second wasn't.

My jaw tightened and she stopped immediately.

“Pain?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

I indicated the same spot.

She nodded and eased my arm back down.

Her expression hadn't changed, but I could tell she was thinking.

“I'm going to palpate around the shoulder,” she said. “Some areas may be tender.”

“May be?”

She glanced at me. “Probably.”

I gave her a look, and that earned me the smallest smile. Then her fingertips settled against the front of my shoulder. I went still.

She worked methodically, pressing lightly around the joint, checking one point and then another.

“Tell me when it's painful.”

I said nothing.

She pressed again.

I flinched.

Her eyes lifted to mine.

“That one?”

I nodded.

She withdrew her hand.

“Okay.”

I exhaled slowly.