“Today, we’ll talk about your shoulder and what therapy will look like, both here and at home. We’ll even establish some goals, so you have a clear idea of what to expect. How’s that sound?”
He swallows and nods again. “Sure. Sounds great.”
I’m sittingat my desk, staring out the window at a sliver of blue visible between two palm trees. It’s the only part of the beach I can see from here but enough to settle my nerves as I return to my attention to the patient file I’m creating on Nick.
My small ocean view is also a subtle reminder of what’s at stake for him and the promise I’ve made to get him back to full range of motion. I meant what I said when I told him I was one of the few physical therapists that can help him return to doing what he loves most—being a lifeguard. I’ve brought several athletes back to the table when other physical therapists would have said there was nothing more they could do.
But if Nick’s anything like Graham, lifeguarding is his life. I’m certain I can help him get back in the water, saving lives.
However, I also know this will be one of my biggest challenges to date. Human wise, that is. If Nick will do the work both here and at home, I’m confident he’ll have a full recovery, but it won’t be easy. All we did today was talk about his injury, the surgery, and both of our expectations before I did a cursory exam—shirt on—of what I was dealing with.
The bicep curls his doctor cleared him for have helped, but I won’t lie. He’s got a tough road ahead of him. But if I can bring him back to full capacity (as a lifeguard—the man is gorgeous, muscled, and has a smile that makes my breath get lost in mylungs, so I’m sure he still has an array of women at his beck and call), he’ll be one of my best testimonials to date.
And for the record, I have several already, but the most recent are from the furry variety, so I need some human (or should I say hooman?) endorsements.
My challenge will be to keep my head in the game when I’m around Nick. He still messes with my senses like he did when I saw him last. Back then, I was a goofy eighteen-year-old who spent most of my time helping my oldest brother, Liam, at his pet shop.
Speaking of whom…
The connecting door squeaks open, so I twirl in my seat.
Liam gives me a small wave, then tucks his hand into the top of his jeans pocket like his other one. The eldest of the McCarthy siblings, Liam makes the overly responsible and serious oldest sibling an art form.
“Graham stopped and filled me in. How’d it go?”
I shrug. “Nick was a little gun shy at first, but once I explained how things worked and we created a plan, he seemed more agreeable.”
“Sounds promising.”
“It’s a start. We’ll see how it goes.”
He scrunches his shoulders closer to his ears—something he does when he’s trying to choose his words to address whatever he’s concerned about. Ever the diplomat of the family, Liam’s good with people and animals, but sometimes I want him to just spit it out.
“Graham said you pushed pretty hard.”
I turn around so he can’t see me roll my eyes, and pick my pen up again. “I’m trying to keep him motivated.”
With a lopsided grin, Liam nudges my arm with his elbow as he leans on the edge of the desk, invading my space. “Torture device? Seriously?”
I lean back in my chair. “I was trying to lighten the mood.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, but it might not be conducive to helping your patient.”
Mr. Efficient. That’s my nickname for my older brother. He runs his life like he runs his shop—well-organized and systematic. Probably why he’s nearing forty and still not married. The man is all work and no play. Although he has a heart for animals I consider endearing. Maybe he needs to find a woman who needs saving like the animals he advocates for.
“Liam.” I give an edge to my voice to make my point known without words.
He pushes off the desk and lifts his hands in surrender. “I know, I know. It’s your business. You run it how you see fit.”
“Exactly,” I singsong, then return my attention to Nick’s file, hoping Liam will get the message to go back to his side of the building so I can continue prepping for tomorrow.
His heavy exhale tells me there’s something deeper on his mind. I turn around in my chair. “Yes?”
He purses his lips together before speaking. “Be careful, okay?”
I cock my head to the side as a thought arises. “Liam, what’s this really about?”
Hands back in his pockets, he draws his shoulders up again. “Nothing. Just a word of caution. Nick’s not boyfriend material.”
