And also it’s what made my chest tighten. Sonny was beautiful. Inside and out. And he had options. So many options.
And all of them were better options than me.
I slid my phone back into my pocket without replying. I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t be a blatant lie (sure, I’ll grope my physio if he’s a hottie) or desperately sad (please never grope anyone but me, Sonny, I love you).
Taking a breath, I knocked and pushed the door open. A pleasant voice said, “Mr Yates?”
I pulled a face. “Call me Declan, please.”
“Declan.”
As I looked up at the man standing beside the physio table, my step faltered as I was caught off guard. He was a slender man about my age, shorter than me but he held himself upright. The way he moved towards me, his hand stretched out to shake mine, showed that he had an easy, fluid way of moving. Something about that movement was unusual, as though he were uncurling his hand to offer it to me.
Taking his hand, my skin prickled with awareness. Ifeltmy body in a way I hadn’t in a long time.
He was pretty. As pretty as Sonny was, though he was shorter and dark-haired, whereas Sonny was willowy and fair. My ray of sunshine.
I had the sudden urge to press close to this man and wrap my arms around him and had to restrain myself.
Was it my imagination or did he hold my hand just a fraction longer than he needed to? Maybe Sonny had put ideas in my head. I tried to shake off the sudden feeling.
He released me and stepped back, giving me an easy smile.
“Good morning. I’m Erik, your physiotherapist. I’m here to meet all your rehabilitation needs, so don’t be shy about telling me what they are.”
A retort died on my tongue. That smile was distracting.
I wouldn’t say that I had much flirting game before my accident, especially since everyone I looked at, I compared directly to Sonny. Nobody could compare. Not normally.
Now, though, I had evenlessgame.
Erik seemed to sense my awkwardness because he cleared his throat and gestured at a chair by the small desk which was just big enough to have a laptop balanced on it.
“Please, take a seat. I’ve been given some notes but I want to go over what you want from these sessions and what your limitations and boundaries are before we start.”
I moved over to the chair, taking my time to make sure I still had my balance, since I suddenly felt so… so off-kilter. I was aware that Erik’s eyes were on me. Perhaps I should have felt more of that under-a-microscope feeling that I’d got used to from my family and the hospital staff, but I didn’t. I was sure I was being assessed but it didn’t feel… invasive.
For a second, I wondered whether he was checking me out. I’d been pretty classically good-looking before the accident and had always had a lot of people coming onto me, even if I was never particularly interested in anyone who wasn’t Sonny. It had been a long six months, though, and I had forgotten the feeling of being ogled.
“I see you’ve lost a lot of muscle mass recently.”
Oh. Oh, I see. Not checking me out, then. Just assessing, like all the doctors and physios before him.
“Yeah, I lost a lot of strength.”
There was no point in denying it. I’d been strong before the accident, hitting the gym a few times a week to keep my fitness and my bulk. Not any longer.
“If you want, we can work on getting that back.”
I stared at him, not sure if he was joking. He seemed to realise that and waved a hand. “We can get to that later. We have time. Why don’t you start by telling me what you’ve been doing with your previous physiotherapist?”
I outlined it as briefly as possible. None of it surprised him, so either he had actually read my notes or it was very standard procedure.
After that, he had me strip my outer clothes off and lay on the therapy table. Again, his eyes were scanning my body, taking mein. I tried to tell myself that he was assessing me with a detached, critical air but my skin still heated under his gaze.
“Can I touch your legs?”
I nodded and he placed his hand gently on my good knee. I felt the warmth that radiated out from him and wanted to soak in it like a bath.
