I smile and nod. “Some of it. But everything is sanitized after every patient. Like the massage table.”
He points to the nook with the treadmills and exercise bands. “And that?”
I bite back a giggle at the way he’s frowning at my underwater treadmill. “Oh, that’s a torture device for patients who don’t cooperate.”
My brother snorts, then doubles over with laughter. You have to understand that this is how the McCarthy clan rolls. We’re rowdy, sarcastic, and love to pull pranks.
Nick starts to say something but clams up and scalds Graham with another glare.
I slide back into professional mode. “Just kidding, Nick. It’s an underwater treadmill for my furry patients, who need the help of buoyancy to get back on their paws. The treadmill and bands are for my human patients.”
This is a stretch for Nick. I can appreciate that. It is for most people, but this has been my dream since I figured out how to combine my love for animals in a way that didn’t involve surgeries or, the worst part, in my humble opinion, having to put a beloved family pet down. My oldest brother Liam tried to warn me about that when I left for vet school, but I didn’t listen, convinced I would prove him wrong. But it turned out he was right. Liam knew me better than I thought.
Although I can tell he’s trying to resist, one side of Nick’s mouth ticks up. “Very funny.”
I hold my hands out in a reassuring gesture. “Just trying to ease your concerns. Whatever you want to know or are unsure of, just ask.”
Nick still seems indecisive. As much as I’d like to get my hands on him—in a purely professional way, of course—I want him to feel comfortable and at ease. From what Graham has told me, getting Nick back to full capacity will be a big challenge because of lifeguard requirements. But I am up for it. I’ve worked primarily with athletes who had high-performance standards to meet, too.
“Look, I understand this isn’t what you expected, but I guarantee you, I’m one of the few massage therapists out there who can handle your case and practically promise you full range.”
“Practically?”
“You have to do your part. But if you’re not up for that, I get it.” I’m putting the challenge out there because I’m familiar with Nick’s type. I know what buttons to push. I’ve worked with enough athletes to understand the mind games they deal with. I may be taking a risk, but in Nick’s case, I believe he’ll rise to the call if I challenge his ability.
However, after a prolonged pause, he’s still saying nothing. But I’m pretty sure he’ll relent.
I think…
Nick shakes his head, and the butterflies in my stomach take a nosedive. Did I push too hard? Maybe he isn’t the same guy I remember. Or, perhaps, he’s still reeling from the accident. From what Graham told me, it was a pretty intense situation.
Graham grips his left shoulder. “Bro, trust her. She’s your best shot.”
Here’s the deal with older brothers. They’re either one hundred percent for you or hellbent on making your life as complicated as possible. And I have two of them. Thankfully, they both weigh in on the first scenario—most of the time.
I cross my arms. “I don’t know, Graham. Maybe heshouldgo to a more traditional therapist.”
Risky, I know. But I recognize stubborn when I see it. Nick’s reluctance is akin to that of a new animal patient—cautious and guarded until I gain their trust. Usually, that involves some baby talk and a few treats. Somehow, I don’t believe that would work on Nick, but my imagination is having a stellar time picturing it.
Does Nicky boy want a treat?
Okay, moving on…
The muscles in his jaw pulse when he faces me. Something flashes in the dark depths of his gaze. “All right, fine. Let’s do this.”
Graham lets out awootand smacks his hands together with a loud pop.
I can’t help but grin because this is the Nick I remember. Full of fire and determination.
Graham gives him the Shaka sign. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
Nick nods and tucks his chin. After the door closes, he lifts his head and captures my gaze with his.
I’m not prepared for what I see in his eyes…fear.
It’s gone in a flash. His bravado from earlier slides back into place. “So what’s first?”
Like I said, when I treat animals, the first thing I have to do is gain their trust because their initial instinct is fear. I’d planned to throw him into a small workout to give him a taste of what he’ll be doing, but now that I’ve seen the demon he’s battling, I change tactics. I need to ease his mind and reassure him I know what I’m doing.
