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Two weeks ago, if Dalton Wick had told me to trust him, I would have slapped him in his face and ran as fast as possible away from him, not knowing what kind of stunt he would pull. So, how did I get to the point where I actually do trust him?
I cautiously lie on my stomach, keeping my eyes glued on him.
Okay, maybe I don’t trust him as much as I thought I did.
“Now, take this”—he holds up the tube—“and roll it on your legs while your elbows are holding yourself up.”He demonstrates where to roll it while still sitting on his knees, facing me.
He hands it to me, and I lift my body to place it under my quads. He gets even closer, and I swear my chest tightens so much that I have to pause to make sure I’m still breathing.
What is wrong with me?
“Now, use your arms to move your body up and down so you’re rolling your leg on the roller.”
“They got real creative with the name of this thing,” I joke, trying to change whatever emotion I can’t understand that is racing through my body.
He laughs out loud, which only makes the feelings inside me more intense with the sound of his deep baritone.
“Nope. No fancy name. But it gets the job done.”
I follow his instructions and instantly feel a pain that hurts but weirdly feels good at the same time.
“Now, move your body around side to side and up and down until you feel spots that need to be rolled out.”
I do as he said and squeal when I get to a spot that’s exactly what he was talking about. “Oh God.” I bite down. “Why does it hurt so good?”
He drops to his butt in laughter. “I love that. So true. It hurts so good.” He pauses as he watches me roll up and down on this torture device. “Once you feel like you got that leg, just switch it to the other side. Then roll to your back and get your calves and hamstrings too.”
I do everything he mentioned and experience the intense pain I just felt all over again on the opposite side.
Once I feel I’ve gotten both sides good, I move tomy back and roll my calves and hamstrings, which surprisingly hurt just as bad as my quads.
As I painfully roll over every tight muscle in my body, Dalton sits in silence, staring off at the land around us. He looks so peaceful as I sit here, causing extreme pain to myself.
After I feel like I’ve gotten everything good enough or I can’t stand the torture anymore—those seem to go hand and hand right now—I grab the roller and sit back up, handing it to him.
“Do I want to know what else is in that bag?”
“Probably not, but you’ll love me for it tomorrow when you aren’t as sore. The second and third days are always the worst.”
My eyes open wide. “How can it get any worse than it already is?”
He grins a devilish grin. “Oh, just wait. Maybe I won’t help you now so you can experience the pain for yourself.”
I throw my hands toward him. “Gimme!”
He hands me a device that literally has Rollerblade wheels on either side and opens up just enough to get my leg through. I’m intrigued just as much as I’m terrified.
“Now that you’ve broken up the first layer, this sucker will get in there and really get those knots. Here, sit here.”
We both get up, and I sit on the chair while he kneels next to me.
When he places his hand on my leg, my eyes instantly meet his. We stare at each other for a breath too long, but for the life of me, I can’t look away.
“Whatever you do, don’t kick me.”
I laugh out loud. “Then, don’t do something that would make me want to kick you.”
“Just like you said, ‘It hurts so good.’ Just trust me and don’t forget to breathe.”
