AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Cute. Real cute, Lake.” She rolls her eyes. Again.
I think I like it when she says my name.
“Now drop 'em.”
Especially followed up by that.
I do as she says and drop my sweats to my ankles, bending over at the waist. I swear I hear her gasp a little as I stand back up, wearing only a pair of fitted Nike shorts, but she’d never broadcast that. Of course not. She's disgusted by me, right? Seen it all before, as she says.
Plopping myself back up on the table, she comes in closer and begins gently touching my knee and the surrounding area.Here we go again. Everything inside me comes to life, and all of my senses are suddenly on high alert as she leans over me. I can’t help but inhale subtly. She smells fruity today, like some sort of sweet kiwi or something.
“You've been icing at home?” she asks, her voice shaky, lashes fluttering when she peers up at me.
“Yeah,” I reply, sucking air between my teeth as she manipulates the tender incision site.
I generally just black out when trainers touch me, feeling like a car that’s getting work done. But with her, it's like the engine inside awakens. Everything is revving and ready to go.
She seems flustered. Clenching her jaw with her brows knit together, as if being close and touching me makes her upset. I begin to question if I’ll ever get back on that field again. Maybe this is the worst she’s seen. Does she know something she’s not telling me about the condition I’m in? Maybe this is the injury that does me in, dismantling my career. Maybe she’ll never get a chance to see me play.
No. Shut up, Lake. No self-deprecating bullshit allowed.
Extending my leg, Dylan holds my calf as she gently bends it. I groan, closing my eyes tightly. I can't help but feel my throat bob as I swallow down how tough this is today. Mentally and physically.
Her movements stall when I open my eyes to see what she's doing, and I see an expression I wasn't expecting. Her eyes are wide, almost panicked, and her lips are slightly parted. I can practically hear her heart pounding out of her chest.
“I'm fine, Dylan, chill out.” I groan again and grip the sides of the table, breathing through the pain as I rest my leg.
She clears her throat before asking, “Did you take your pain medicine today?”
I shake my head no.
That scowl is back on her face like it never left, so I narrow my eyes right back at her.
It looks like she's about to say something when the front door to the gym opens, snapping her out of it when the entry bell rings.
She drops her warm, soft hands from my leg before turning to the counter lined with cabinets nearby. Handing me a stapled clump of papers, she tells me everything we’ll be going over today is in there for me to take home, and then she grabs a brace from a cabinet nearby.
“I have—”
“I know,” she interrupts, her big colorful eyes soft when they find mine. “But I ordered this one instead. It's the best on the market. And you need the best.”
Her whisper barely reaches me and she casts her gaze down again, almost as if she’s embarrassed by her admission.
She does this for everyone, Lake. She’s a physiotherapist, it’s literally her job.Even so, the tiniest bit of kindness from her feels different.
We get started on our session for the day. Today she's showing me various stretches and light exercises that include balancing, stability, and toe raises.
As she's assisting me with a range-of-motion exercise, she crouches beneath me, her careful hands sliding up my hamstring, showing me where I should feel the exercise most. Her eyes are set on her hands, but mine lock on hers. Her working beneath me like this, softly stroking the back of my leg, has me picturing things I shouldn't. Things like those soft hands sliding up the front of my thighs until she reaches the base of my—
“You need to work on these at home or in your spare time when we aren’t together,” she interrupts my thoughts. “It’s all in the printout, the stretches I've assembled specifically for you.”
I hiss a bit during the final leg extension, gripping the fabric of my bunched up sweats with white knuckles as a painful stream shoots down my leg.
My hiss doesn't deter her or scare her in any way this time. She just gently loosens my leg before repeating the motion a tad gentler.
I continue my therapy with her in silence. Deafening silence. We pass each other; she shows me a move; I do it, and she walks away until I finish. She reappears, instructing me on the next, before vanishing again. It's more than clear she's limiting her time in my presence.
“Are you this engaging with all of your clients?” I ask after she reappears again to show me a hip abduction exercise.
