Page 31 of Big Dill

8

Brody

After chatting with Jaxon about his bank appointment, I step into my physio clinic and drop into the chair behind my small desk. Calling it an office is generous—it’s more of a command centre wedged neatly into the corner of my treatment space. But it works. I rescheduled my patients for today, small-town understanding being one of our greatest assets, and now I’ve got calls to make and charts to update.

Someday in the future when the clinic is booked solid and I’m running a waitlist instead of a flexible schedule, I’ll hire someone to handle phones and paperwork. But for now, it’s just me doing double duty.

I open my laptop as the rest of the building hums with life. Laughter carries down the hall, followed by the sharp pop of pickleballs and the squeal of rubber soles gripping the gym floor. It bleeds into my space, reminding me that this place isn’t just about rehab—it’s about getting people back to living and I love it.

I take a deep breath, and even though the scent of Jami lingers, behind it there are faint smells of menthol, fresh linens and towels, with a hint of eucalyptus drifting from the diffuser perched on a shelf. The room is functional but warm. A padded treatment table sits to one side, paper roll tucked neatly at one end. Resistance bands hang from wall hooks in orderly rows—red, green, blue—alongside foam rollers, massage balls, and a set of ankle weights that have seen better days.

There’s a rolling stool, a skeleton to represent range of motion, a portable ultrasound and TENS machine, and a squat rack tucked into the corner for return-to-play strength work. A whiteboard lists today’s canceled appointments, yesterday’s PRs, and a badly drawn stick figure reminding me to cue neutral spine. Anatomy charts line one wall—muscles, joints, movement patterns. With a lot of long hours, sometimes frustration, this old warehouse space has been transformed into my vision. It’s honest work, and I love it.

Speaking of space…

When Jaxon and I put together that yoga studio for Jami, I didn’t realize how much it would matter to her. I knew about her ex, knew she’d arrived carrying more weight than anyone should have to, and I knew she didn’t really have a place that was hers, considering she was going to be cohabitating with Jaxon and me. Giving her that small room felt like the right thing to do.

Seeing her reaction—the pause, the quiet way she took it in like she was afraid it might disappear—made it feel more important than I ever could have imagined. Which reminds me of what was stolen from her, and what she might need…

I open my laptop and do a search. Thirty minutes later, after going down a rabbit hole, I find exactly what I’m looking for and order it before I can overthink myself into backing out.

Am I overstepping? Probably.

Should I have run it by Jaxon? Absolutely.

Jami? No chance. She’d veto it instantly, and sometimes it’s better to apologize afterward than ask permission first.

Speaking of permission…

Jesus. The things she let me do to her that night. The things I asked for. The sounds she made when she stopped holding back.

Mind on the job, dude.

Right.

I refocus, tweak my schedule, make my calls, and I’m just about to close my laptop when my phone buzzes. I snort. That took longer than I thought.

I swipe the screen. “Hi, Ma.”

“Is she with you?”

“Hello to you too. Yes, I’m fine. Although I do have this tickle in my throat. Allergies. Thanks for asking.”

“Jesus, b’y, you’re worse than a puppy. Always needin’ somethin’,” she teases, her voice rolling with that familiar mix of love and mischief.

I chuckle. “I expected this call hours ago, and please don’t tell me you heard she’s a pretty little thing.”

“That’s exactly what I heard, and I couldn’t call until my coffee break. Priorities, b’y.”

“What can I do for you, Ma? Everything okay?”

“Come for dinner tonight and bring Jami. I’m gathering everyone.”

“That’s not necessary.” While I think my family will love Jami and vice-versa, she just got to town and took in a lot today.

“B’y,” she says in that no-nonsense tone that shuts down arguments instantly. “Of course it’s necessary. She’s Jaxon’s sister, and even if she wasn’t, she deserves a proper welcome. I raised you better than that.”

“She did get a proper welcome. Verna made her jiggs last night, and she’s exhausted today. I’m sure you heard about the cargo plane.”