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A week ago he and Riley had sat on a blanket, watching a band make use of the bandshell at the park near her house.
Unable to avoid doing so a moment longer, he glanced toward where she sat. Their gazes collided and she smiled. His heart quivered like a fish out of water. Because that was what it did when Riley smiled at him a certain way.
The way that said she knew what he liked and she liked it, too.
The way that said she wanted him.
She did want him. For the past couple of months she’d not pretended otherwise. Most of the time. Although she kept herself emotionally guarded, physically she held little back.
Flashing her a quick smile, he dragged his gaze from hers and forced himself to focus on her roommate. “Any improvement since you felt the initial pain?” he asked.
Cassie shook her head. “The pain keeps getting worse. It’s not too bad when I first get up in the morning. But the more I do, the worse it feels.” She frowned. “It’s interfering with my work, my everything. And I don’t feel safe driving—which is why I had Riley bring me today.”
At the mention of her name, his gaze went back to the pretty woman sitting on the opposite side of the examination room. Sure, he knew she’d never let her guard down completely, but he was hopeful he would eventually earn her trust.
Which was an issue.
He’d still not told her about Ashley, and nor had she opened up about the details of her broken engagement. Talking about Ashley never felt appropriate while he was with Riley. Did she feel the same about her ex with him? Maybe they needed to forget their pasts, not worry about mistakes made before they’d even met.
Not that he bought that.
Nor could he shake the feeling that he was constantly trying to earn Riley’s acceptance. Hadn’t he learned as a child that you couldn’t earn love? If so, his birth mother would have adored him.
“I’ve tried all the things we tell our patients to do, but not noticed much of a change,” Cassie continued, oblivious to the fact that his attention had strayed.
Chiding himself, he forced his attention back on Cassie. Getting her to sit on the exam table with her legs hanging over the edge, he visually inspected both her knees, then grasped her right knee, placed his palm over her patella and, holding on to her ankle, put her leg through a passive range of motion. She had smooth movement, with no noises or reported pain, and he easily achieved greater than one-hundred-and-thirty-degree flexion.
He started to do the same to her left, but Cassie grimaced as he attempted to move her leg so he stopped. He’d only achieved about ninety degrees.
He quickly did varus and valgus tests, noting the difference in results, then palpated the patella, feeling along the tibial plateau for abnormalities. He checked for a fluid shift, noting she was positive for effusion on the left knee. He ran through anterior and posterior drawer tests, then an Apley test, checking the collateral ligaments and for meniscus tears.
Having her position herself so her legs swung freely off the table, he took a reflex hammer out of his scrub pocket and struck just below and slightly lateral to her patella. He didn’t think she had any spinal issues, but wanted to make sure the deep tendon reflex was normal. They were symmetric, and within normal ranges bilaterally.
“Stand and walk across the room,” he told her.
Grimacing, Cassie got off the table and hobbled toward the exam room door and back. Justin studied her gait, making note of how she distributed her weight.
“All your tests for tissue tears are negative, so it’s likely just inflammation. I’d recommend pulling the fluid off, an injection, compression, ice and rest, followed by some physical therapy you can do at home or at a center—whichever you prefer.”
Cassie nodded. “I’m willing to try anything.”
Justin drew up the injection, pulled out a drape, antibacterial skin prep pads, gloves, and some anesthetic spray. He turned to Riley. “You okay with helping?”
* * *
Riley stood to wash her hands and put on a pair of gloves. She hadn’t expected to participate in Cassie’s treatment. But, since she’d asked Justin to see her today, she wasn’t going to refuse.
“If you’ll tell me what to do,” she said.
With Cassie on the table, her leg slightly flexed, Justin pressed along the lateral condyle, looking for a good entry point. He marked his spot with the top of the needle cap, pressing just hard enough to indent the skin. Donning gloves, he cleaned the area with antiseptic preparation, then picked up the syringe.
“If you’ll spray the anesthetic at the marked area, please?”
Riley aimed the anesthetic, spraying until the skin blanched, and Justin pushed the needle into the desensitized area.
Watching Justin in an office setting was a new experience. At the hospital they were usually in surgery together, with his patient asleep. His movements were just as efficient today as at any other time she’d seen him work. Something she’d had the opportunity to do in and out of the hospital almost daily these past few months.
Because she couldn’t seem to stay away—had quit trying, for the most part. Every so often fear would remind her that she was playing with fire, that she was going to hurt both herself and Justin. Still, she couldn’t stay away.
