Chapter 8

Ava

I was up before the sun, and as I limped into the kitchen, I smiled. My leg hurt like hell from walking on it last night, but I needed to. I'll never be ready if I don't push myself. I just hope that my physical therapist understands this. I don't want someone telling me to go slow or take it easy. I need someone to push me as hard as I push myself.

"Are you sure you don't want a ride?" Ashley yawned when she emerged from her room.

"Thanks, but I can drive now." I poured a tumbler full of coffee and began adding my cream and sugar,

"Do you think you'll get someone hot?" She grinned. "A hot guy rubbing and bending your leg might be just the motivation you need."

"Ash." I rolled my eyes. "I don't care what they look like as long as they know I need to be on the field this spring."

"That's not much time. I thought you had six months of this? Spring season is in four." She moved closer. "I hope you've prepared yourself for the possibility that this might not be as easy as you want it to be."

"I'll be ready. You'll see. I'll be better than ever." I nodded before taking my tumbler into the living room. It was nice to be able to carry things when I moved around. One small step in the right direction.

Carter

I'd been pacing the office since my shift started at eight. My co-workers think I'm the luckiest guy on the planet, but I'm not seeing it that way. Ava Slone is one of the golden athletes and my newest patient. I'd had many like her in the past: they think they know better, they don't want to listen, they want immediate results, they get mad and blame you when things don't go as planned. I'd been dreading this since she showed up on my calendar yesterday afternoon.

"Dude, relax." Maverick, my roommate, and best all-around bud, shook his head at me.

"You're not going to be dealing with this," I grumbled. "Why me?"

"Because you're the best we've got." He laughed. "Look at what you've done for the football team. Why would they not give you the star players to rehab?" He leaned against my table and crossed his arms over his chest. The smile that spread across his face said he knew I knew he was right. "You're always so humble." He chuckled. "You're badass. Own that shit."

"I am badass, huh? I guess I'm just tired of the whiny prima-donna girls who come in here. They think they can flirt their way to being better. I just want someone who understands that I can't snap my fingers and make them better." I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled.

"Well, now's your chance to see what you got." Mav laughed as he waltzed out of my room and nodded his head toward the front desk. I could hear voices and a light laugh before Andy, our front desk man, rounded the corner.

"Your ten o'clock is here, and wow." His eyes went wide. "Put in a good word for me, huh?" He bounced his brows, and I just rolled my eyes.

"She's a patient," I snapped as I made my way out to our small waiting room. There she was, sitting on a small bench near the door. Her brown hair was piled on her head in a messy bun. She was wearing leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. The neck was wide and hung off to one side, exposing a well-tanned shoulder. She was tapping away on her phone, and every few seconds her lips would pull into a smile. She looked so innocent, but I knew her type. Snobby California girl who thinks she's the most important person in the world because she's an athlete who pro teams are drooling over. Well, at least she was. Now, I don't know how the scouts feel about her.

I knew I wasn't getting out of this, so I decided right then that I would not let her get to me. It didn't matter if she was pretty, or athletic, or anything. She was a client for the next six months, and I was going to give her the same treatment everyone else got.

"Ava?" I stepped closer, shoulders back, chin lifted. I probably looked like a douche, but I wasn't thinking that far ahead.

"Hi." She looked up at me and smiled before tucking her phone into her purse. I watched as she stood on wobbly legs and gripped her cane with white knuckles.

"Where are your crutches?" I glanced around. "Your doctor should have told you to bring them."

"I'm done with crutches." Her defiance shone through like a beacon of light on a dark shoreline. "I'm walking on both feet."

"If you overdo things, it'll take twice as long to heal." I stared down at where it was obvious that she already had some swelling. "Have you been walking since yesterday on that?"

"I have to play again in four months. I'm not scared of pain." Her chin lifted and she took a few shaky steps in my direction. "Can we get started now?"

I stepped back out of her way, and motioned to the door that was standing open to my room. She slowly and methodically moved toward the door. I followed in her wake just in case her leg gave out and she might need help. When she reached the door, I could see just how much effort it took, and how tired she seemed already. We hadn't even started yet. She swallowed the pain, and glared up at me. "Next!" she growled as one hand braced her body against the table.

"Are you hurting already?" I looked around, thinking I might need to change my plan for the day.

"No pain, no gain. I need you to stop looking at me as if I'm broken. Your job is to help me and push me to get better. Now help!" She punched the table, and I couldn't help but see her in a different light. This girl was tough as nails and might be my most challenging match-up.

Ava

This sucked. Plain and simple. He stood there staring at me as I attempted to slow my breathing. I felt like I'd been on a ten mile hike, not a few feet across the room.

"Hop up on the table." He motioned behind me. I used my arms to lift myself up. "You really should wear shorts or bring them to change into in the future. It helps when I can see your leg." I shook my head as I grabbed the bottom of my pant legs and rolled the fabric up above my scars.

"This work?" I sounded bitchy, but I didn't care. The frustration and anger over this whole situation was helping me deal with my discomfort, and I needed it so I wouldn't cry.

"Look!" He stepped back and hung his head, shaking it in the process. "We're on the same team here. You want to get better; I want you to get better. The attitude is not needed." He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. The cotton of his tee pulled tight and I tried valiantly not to stare. His lips curved up on one side as he busted me.

"Sorry," I murmured. "I'm just mad. It's not you. It's everything, and I'm tired of being seen as broken."

"You're not broken, and I'm going to prove it. Turn and face me, letting your legs hang over the edge." He motioned with his hand.

We spent the next hour working on flexibility and stretches. Carter said that after keeping my leg immobile and straight for all that time, that I needed to work the knee more. I was stiff, and every movement made my leg ache. I could feel the muscles pulling tight, and my knee would pop every once in a while.

When we finished, the joint was hot, and my quad was quivering. "Ice for twenty minutes on, twenty off for the next hour and half. Ibuprofen for swelling and pain, and I'll see you in three days." He smiled and then disappeared. I sat there staring at the wall as I rubbed my leg. It hurt and I secretly wondered if I was going to be able to walk out of here. Maybe this was why he asked about crutches. We hadn't even worked on any weight-bearing exercises and I felt like I'd run a marathon.

I took a few deep breaths to brace myself, and slid off the table. One hand held the cane as the other used the table, wall, and door to help keep my balance. Every few steps I'd have to pause so my leg didn't give out under the weight. It took me twice as long as it should to get out to my car. I heard Andy shout a goodbye when I stepped outside, but I just waved. I needed to get home, get ice, and rest. I was told Carter was the best. I just hoped that he understood what was at stake here.