I signal to him to follow me over to the weights area. “Hopefully not. I won’t know for sure until we try some movements. How’s your pain level today? Same as yesterday? Any better? How does it compare to what you were feeling before?”
He rolls his shoulder forward, then backward. “It’s better.”
I catch sight of the fleeting grimace he’s trying to hide. “Nick?”
“What?”
“Be honest. If we progress too quickly, we’ll end up doing more damage, and that will take you out of the game even longer, if not for good.” I know I sound a tad negative here, but this is the reality of the situation. Plus, I can’t condone pushing a patient to do anything that leads to further injury. I may not be a full-fledged doctor, but I abide by the same code—do no harm.
He tips his head back with a breathy sigh, revealing the corded muscles in his neck. “Fine. Yes, it’s still pretty sore, and I have some pain when I do certain movements.”
I’m fumbling for words, lost in my attraction to…neck muscles? I know body structure like it’s second nature. I’m familiar with all the individual muscles in the neck and how they connect and function with the rest of the body. So, why am I standing here like a silly teenager, lost in a sea of raging hormones?
He lowers his chin and lifts a brow in question as if to ask, “What now?” But there’s that fear I saw the first day, lurking in the depths of his eyes, which tugs and twists my heart into a double-jointed pretzel.
Right. I take the plan I handed him to distract myself and pretend to study the calendar I meticulously laid out. “I’ll make some adjustments so we don’t move too fast.”
He rubs the back of his neck with his left hand, something he usually does with his right hand. That tells me he’s favoring the shoulder again. “Will that change our timeline?”
The concern in his voice is thick. And I get it, but I won’t risk his long-term outcome just so he can recertify. That may be the sole focus in his world, but mine goes back to that moral guideline of do no harm. Pushing the way I suspect Nick wants to would undoubtedly cause more damage.
But maybe we can find a happy middle. “I can’t make any promises, but I will keep the nine-week mark as your target.”
He flashes that grin at me and does a victory bounce with his arms bent and his hands fisted while mouthing the word ‘yes’ as if he scored a goal.
I interrupt, “However,” I pause until his eyes meet mine, “the moment I sense you’re at risk, I pull the reins. Understand?”
His jaw ticks before he answers. “Understood.”
Just as I’mabout to lock up and leave, my cell phone buzzes on my desk. Pete’s name shows on the screen, sending my heart into overdrive. When I drove by Bandit’s house this morning, he looked even thinner than I remembered. If I hadn’t had a patient expecting me, I would have snagged him out of the yard and taken off. Instead, I sent Pete a text saying Bandit appeared in worse shape.
“Hey, Pete. Any updates?”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m calling. I wanted to let you know I’m on the way over there now.”
Holding the phone away from me, I squeal and do a quick happy dance.
“Hannah?” Pete’s voice filters out.
I bring the phone back to my ear. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Did you just squeal?”
Why does he sound surprised? Pete knows how I operate from when I worked at my brother’s shop. “Maybe. So what happens next?”
“Hopefully, the owner is there, so we can talk to him first.”
“What? You can’t leave Bandit there another day.”
“If he looks as bad as you say, trust me, I’ll take him off the premises. But if the owner’s not there, and Bandit is somewhere out of sight, we can’t trespass.”
A growl erupts from my gut. He’s right, but that doesn’t make this any more palatable.
“Are you treating one of your furry patients?”
“No…that was me.”
He chuckles. “This dog must be something pretty special.”
