5. Chapter 5
Chapter five
Cal
The sun had just begun to rise as I stepped outside for my run. The mountains blocked most of the light, but the clouds to the east glowed, outlining the hills in crimson. As I stretched, the red faded to orange and spread across the sky.
I started running north toward the high school, taking deep breaths of the damp air to clear the sleep from my mind. As I approached the Stevens’s house, a figure dashed off the steps and sprinted toward me.
“Morning, Chris,” I said as he slowed to match my pace.
“Cal.”
We ran for several minutes without talking while the world around us formed from the fading darkness. It was one of the reasons I liked the kid. He helped pass the time with conversations about sports or Skye but gave me as long as I needed to wake up.
“Did you leave the pie in my fridge?” I asked a half mile into our run as we approached the high school.
“Yeah, Mom made way too much food to welcome my sister home. How was Ann’s session?”
I broke stride and had to do a little hop not to trip over my own feet. I knew I recognized the gorgeous redhead that came into the office yesterday. Her face and first name were both familiar, but I’d failed to make the connection with Rowan Stevens or even that Rowan was Chris’s oldest sister since he called her Ann whenever he spoke of her.
The last time I’d seen Rowan, she was a scrawny thing with frizzy hair, braces, and glasses that covered half her face. We didn’t have the same friends in school, and I honestly couldn’t recall hearing her voice before yesterday. The Rowan I remembered did her best to disappear. She’d grown into a stunning woman who commanded attention. Without the glasses, her captivating green eyes couldn’t be ignored, and she’d filled out in the best ways.
Her ass alone had made it difficult to focus on her mobility issues. I kept catching myself staring at it when I should have been watching her gait, which was incredibly unprofessional and unlike me. I’ve worked with attractive women before, but I’ve always been able to keep my focus where it belonged and never gotten involved with anyone I’ve treated. Something about Rowan overrode my professionalism, which was the last thing I needed right now.
“Tell your mom thanks,” I said when I realized I wasn’t holding up my end of the conversation. For the first time in my career, I was grateful for HIPAA. Otherwise, I couldn’t avoid talking to Chris about Rowan, and what an idiot I’d been yesterday.
“How was Ann’s session?” Chris asked again.
A fucking disaster. Not only had I snapped at her about texting, I’d introduced myself like we hadn’t grown up in the same small town only two years apart. Her chart had listed a DC address and a different last name, but even so, I must have come across as a huge prick for not remembering her. I already felt uneasy about how tense our session became. I’ve had plenty of patients recovering from car accidents, many of whom were texting, but I’ve never reacted the way I did yesterday. Maybe I was off balance because I couldn’t place why she looked familiar, or maybe it was because as soon as she mentioned being pinned to a tree, I’d thought of the accident that took Logan. Memories often resurfaced as the anniversary approached, but that was no excuse to take it out on a patient. I’d planned to apologize to Rowan on Thursday, but knowing who she was, and that she’s living on my street, made my behavior worse. “Come on, man, you know I can’t talk about who I treat or don’t.”
Chris nodded. The kid usually had an easy smile, but this morning he looked tense.
“You ok?”
Sometime in the past year, Chris decided I was the male role model he needed, and for some reason, I went along with it. He joined me for runs without asking, and I gave him advice on girls and electric razors. In exchange, his mom Rose fed me more than she should, and Chris refused any payment for walking Skye. Even Poppy had grown on me. Beneath the frightening exterior was a sweet girl who’d gone with me to the hardware store countless times after she’d witnessed my exasperation with exterior paint swatches. Seriously, the number of blue exterior paint shades and ceramic bathroom tiles should be illegal.
Chris spoke in a rush. “I was wondering if you’d help me train this summer. I’m trying out for wide receiver on the varsity team. I thought since that was your position, you might have some tips.”
“No,” I said. Even to my own ears, my answer sounded harsh. His eyes widened in surprise before his shoulders sagged. I hated being a dick, especially when Chris had been such a help with Skye, but I’d never touch a football again. I cleared my throat. “Sorry, it’s just I don’t have time. Work has been crazy.”
He shot me a look but didn’t call me on my bullshit. He and I both knew I’d been able to walk Skye myself lately because I don’t have patients.
“It might be good for Rowan to throw you some passes. Not yet. But once we’ve built up her core strength, it could be a great exercise.” Great. The sun wasn’t up all the way, and I’d already violated HIPAA. “Hypothetically.”
Chris smirked, which I hoped meant he’d forgiven me for turning him down. We talked about an action movie he’d seen, and whether Skye would ever act her age. By the end of the run, I felt certain I hadn’t hurt his feelings too much, but I still felt like an ass.
The feeling intensified as we ran toward the Stevens’s house, and I caught sight of Rowan sitting on the front steps, leaning against one of the large wood pillars that held up the porch roof. Her hair was piled on her head in a riot of curls that cascaded down her delicate neck. She was wearing a different pair of glasses from the ones in high school but equally hideous. The lenses had steamed over from the large coffee mug she held to her full lips. She jumped when she saw us and pulled the sides of her robe together, covering the smooth skin beneath her throat but doing little to hide her toned legs. She looked barely awake. I bet her bed was still warm. This rumpled version of Rowan was somehow even sexier. I ran Super Bowl stats through my head before I made a spectacle of myself in my running shorts.
I should have waved at her and run home. Instead, I kept pace with Chris all the way to his front porch as if my feet had a mind of their own. Music blared from inside the house, the bass far too powerful and upbeat for the hour.
“Not Cyndi Lauper again,” Chris said, plopping down on the steps.
“I have not missed Mom’s music selections,” Rowan said. “Morning, Dr. Cardoso. Are you helping Chris train for tryouts?”
“Please, call me Cal,” I said. I lifted my shirt to wipe the sweat from my forehead. When I lowered it, her mouth was hanging open. I smiled and she buried her face into her coffee mug until her glasses steamed over again. “We’re just finishing our usual run.”
“I haven’t convinced him to train me,” Chris said, flashing me a huge grin. “Yet.”
“I want to apologize for not recognizing you yesterday,” I said. Chris looked at me like I was the biggest dumbass on the planet, which maybe I am.
“It’s fine,” Rowan said, attempting to drink from her empty mug.
“Can you tell me about the session now?” Chris asked me. “That’s all she said to us too. I’ve lived in this estrogen fest long enough to know ‘It’s fine’ never means ‘It’s fine.’”
Rowan sighed. “It hurt like a mother, but my back didn’t feel as tight after.”
“That’s good, right,” Chris said, wrapping his arm around her and beaming. Her entire face lit up when he grinned at her, and I forgot to breathe for a second. The warmth of her smile and the tenderness in her eyes stole the air from my lungs.
“Ew, you’re sweaty,” she said, shoving him playfully. She winced, and Chris frowned.
Seeing her in pain reminded me of how many sessions we had left and how awkward it would be if I didn’t clear the air. “I should also apologize for sounding judgmental. We’ve all looked at a text when we shouldn’t.”
“What text?” Chris asked.
Rowan’s eyes widened. “Never mind, nosy. Go shower, so you can help me make those cinnamon rolls you like.”
He gave her shoulder a squeeze and me a wave. When he opened the front door, Cyndi wailed louder about girls having fun.
Rowan closed her eyes and sighed. “Did you need something else, Dr. Cardoso?”
I should really leave. Skye was waiting for her morning walk, and I had no reason to stay. “I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot.”
She opened her eyes and gave me a polite smile. “It’s fine, Dr. Cardoso, really.”
“Cal,” I said.
She shook her head and started to stand. I took a step forward to help her, but she held out her palm to stop me. “I can manage. I’ll see you tomorrow, doctor.”
I blew out a breath once the front door closed behind her and sprinted down the street toward my house. Technically, I had a doctorate in physical therapy, but unlike my boss, Adam Cohen, I preferred not to use the title. I wasn’t a physician, and some people got nervous talking to doctors. I wanted my patients to feel comfortable telling me how their bodies tolerated the exercises. Hopefully, my rapport with Rowan would improve whether she used my first name or not.
Skye started barking the moment she saw me from the window. My house sat on the corner of Sullivan and Broad. Luckily, my only next-door neighbor, and former high school principal, Mr. Twillings, couldn’t hear a thing until he put in his hearing aids. None of the other neighbors complained, which felt like a miracle given the number of apartment buildings I had to leave on account of my dog’s enthusiasm.
I widened my feet and opened the front door. Skye leapt at me as though I’d been gone a month and licked my face.
“Are you ready for your walk?”
She dropped to the ground and ran to get her leash from the kitchen. It was the only “skill” she had and something she taught herself. After she failed obedience school the second time, I decided to embrace the chaos, to an extent. I knew her limits. If I tried running with her, I’d get dragged after every squirrel. If I left food on the counter unattended, she’d eat it. If I didn’t want her to bark at things outside, I closed the blinds.
Skye ran back to the door so fast, her feet slid on the hardwood floor. She slammed into the wall but picked herself up and spat out the leash at my feet.
My phone buzzed on the end table where I’d left it charging. I hopped over Skye and ran to grab it before it went to voicemail.
“Morning, Cam,” I said. Cammie was the only twenty something I knew who refused to text and enjoyed phone calls, which I guess was a bonus, given her job responsibilities.
“Hi, Cal. Your morning is still open. Dr. Cohen isn’t in until 11:00, so you might as well wait to come in. His first patient is at 11:30; yours is at noon.”
I rubbed my forehead and tried to ignore Skye’s disappointed dog look. “How’s the afternoon?”
“Not bad. You have an hour break at three and no one in the last appointment. I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I moved a couple of your Friday patients to tomorrow afternoon since Dr. Cohen is taking a long weekend.”
“Thanks, Cammie.”
“Fair warning, he asked me to print the schedule from the last couple months and the same period from last year. He’s never done that before.”
“Fuck,” I said, then remembered I was on a work call. “Sorry, Cam.”
Cammie didn’t reply. I started to worry I’d upset her when she sighed and said, “Cal, you have to tell him about the reviews. It looks worse if you don’t. He’ll either think you don’t pay close enough attention to your client feedback or that you knew there was a problem and didn’t tell him. Better to get ahead of it.”
Not for the first time, I questioned what Cammie was doing working a minimum wage job at a small PT practice in Peace Falls. I wasn’t surprised she knew about the reviews. She took more pride in her work than anyone I knew, which made our boss an even bigger ass for getting on her for not arriving early, on occasion.
“You’re right, Cam. I’ll talk to Adam as soon as he gets in. Thanks for looking out for me. By the way, those reviews have nothing to do with work.”
“Of course not,” she said, sounding slightly offended. “Your patients love you. They tell me all the time.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“If you want, I can drop by Karma and get Dr. Cohen a bear claw to soften him up for the conversation. He’s way less cranky after sugar.”
I chuckled. “How about I get him a bear claw and bring you one of those fancy drinks you like?”
“Deal,” she said. “Get me a Rowan, please. It’s named after the Rowan you saw yesterday. Did you know?”
My mind flashed to the enticing redhead down the street and the coffee flavor she might inspire. Something bold and decadent. Skye gave an impatient bark.
“I didn’t. I’ll have to try one myself.”
All through Skye’s walk, when I should have practiced what to say to Adam, all I could think about was how Rowan would taste.