10. Casey
10
Casey
The clinic’s patients were referred to us through their primary-care physicians, or quite often, from their specialists or surgeons at the hospital. We were usually part of the final steps in recovery or treatment, so ideally, we would only need to see our patients once a week for a short period of time as they transitioned through the healing process. We would give them some guided assistance with the exercises, and once they were able to do it on their own, our job was done.
Peter, though… that first day in his home, I’d known that wouldn’t be enough. The chances of Peter doing the homework I assigned were slim to none, not when his depression was in the driver’s seat. I’d immediately talked to Cliff about taking a different approach with him, and he’d agreed, though reluctantly. What I was suggesting wasn’t standard policy, but I refused to fail Peter. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Cliff had said warily. Honestly, I didn’t have a clue, but my heart told me this was the only way forward.
For now, Cliff was taking over a lot of my cases, rescheduling what we could. With the potential of substance abuse being involved, I wanted to make Peter’s recovery a priority. He almost died in the line of duty, protecting someone; he deserved a chance at a full life from here on out. My hope was that I could reduce his pain level quickly, making it easier for him to pass on the painkillers. I was sure he just needed to find his confidence again.
Plus, a little distraction wouldn’t hurt.
So instead of weekly appointments, we met every couple of days, sometimes at the clinic for time in the pool or on the exercise bike, others at his home where I helped him get some of his chores done. Or on a nice sunny day, we took a field trip—like today, to the grocery store.
Peter had been quiet since we got here, his shoulders tense. “Relax,” I told him. “Just hang onto the cart for balance. You’ll be fine.”
“I was fine at home,” he grumbled, but I’d seen the way he turned his face up to the sun when he got out of the car, soaking up its warmth. He wasn’t nearly as grouchy to be here as he pretended to be. The real problem was that he’d been holed up at home for so long that he’d forgotten what he was missing in the real world.
“Well, thanks for indulging me then,” I teased. “I’m sure you’re always fine at home, but it’s good for you to get some sun, a little fresh air. Besides, you’re out of milk.” Why did I know that? Probably because I’d shown up to help make pancakes this morning. I told myself that it was all a part of his recovery, teaching him how to take care of himself again while making allowances for his injuries, without giving into the temptation to give up entirely.
As we headed down the cereal aisle toward the dairy at the back of the store, I peeked at Peter from the corner of my eye. It’d only been a couple weeks, and I could already see a definite improvement. Even under the store’s harsh fluorescent lights, I could tell his skin had lost its pasty pallor, and the deep circles under his eyes were not quite so pronounced. He was showered, wearing clean clothes, and he’d started to gain a bit of much-needed weight. He had even passed on the sweats today, opting instead for a pair of jeans that sat low on his narrow hips.
He looked… really damn good. Too good. Shit.
I looked down at his worn runners and the way he was moving gingerly, wary of every step. Yeah, this was definitely a perfect time to keep things professional. “So, let’s have you walk one foot in front of the other down this aisle, heel to toe,” I instructed, showing him what I meant, following a seam in the floor’s tiles like walking on an imaginary balance beam.
“A-Are you serious?” He glanced over his shoulder to look at a woman with curly gray hair and a brown knit housecoat pretending to read the back of a coffee tin while stealing nosy glances at us.
“Sure, why not? It’s just walking.” I crossed my arms over my chest, daring him to do something weird. “If you want, I can sing or dance, take all the attention off you.”
“Don’t you dare,” he hissed, trying not to laugh.
“Dare what?” I taunted with a mischievous smirk. “Do… this?” I kicked out a foot and started doing a little jig—badly, I might add—and Peter barked out a laugh before his hand darted out, snatching me by the wrist and dragging me in.
Thrown off balance, I stumbled into him and knocked him back into the shelf behind him, and I brought my hands up to his chest to brace myself. His clean scent, of soap and minty toothpaste and something distinctly him, invaded my senses, and my breath snagged on a gasp. It brought us close, close enough for me to see flecks of teal in his eyes as his pupils dilated wide.
As surprised as I was, he seemed even more so. His expression stuttered, before he quickly let go, straightening as I took an uneven step back. “Sorry, that was…”
“A stall tactic,” I finished for him quickly, because it would do neither of us any good to say what it honestly felt like—foreplay. “Now that you know I’m not joking about embarrassing the hell out of you, come on, let’s see you strut your stuff.” I wiggled my fingers toward his feet.
He blew out a long-suffering sigh but obliged, rolling his eyes as he concentrated on the movement, step by narrow step. “Why am I doing this again?”
“We need to work on your balance and stability, strengthening those core muscles. I promise it’ll be worth it.”
Frowning the whole while, Peter walked heel to toe down the aisle, using the shopping cart for balance, knuckles white on the handle.
“Perfect, now how about a couple high knees.”
“Please, no,” he groaned, but did as I asked, lifting each knee slowly and carefully, while I kept one hand on the cart to keep it from getting away from him.
“People are staring,” he muttered from the corner of his mouth. Sure enough, the woman in the housecoat was gaping at his marching gait, but he glared right back at her until she turned away, chastised.
“You don’t like an audience? Good to know.” Why did I just say that?! It sounded like I was commenting on his kinks! Shut up! I cleared my throat and turned sharply to give my immediate full attention to the first thing I could grab—a box of cereal with a cartoon parrot on the front. My cheeks felt scorching hot, and I didn’t need a mirror to know they were bright red. I could feel his eyes on me, but I refused to turn around.
“Huh. Didn’t take you for a kids’ cereal kind of guy.” Peter’s voice held a note of teasing.
“Honestly, I’m not,” I said, setting it back on the shelf. “But since we’re on the topic, sugar is a major factor in inflammation. Cutting back would help manage your pain.”
He narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at me. “If you tell me I have to eat bran flakes instead, I’m leaving you here.”
I laughed, grabbing his finger and giving it a shake. “Nothing so extreme. I’m sure we can find some middle ground.”
After choosing a box of granola sweetened with honey, we headed down the back of the store, where I convinced him to try almond milk instead of dairy. He seemed skeptical, but I loved that he was willing to try new things.
“What are some of your favorite meals?” I asked, wandering between the racks of brightly colored produce. When he didn’t answer right away, I turned to look at him and found him looking far too serious. “What’s wrong?”
Peter drew in a deep breath and blew it out on a sigh. “Look, I appreciate all the help you’ve been giving me, and you’re better company than I would’ve guessed, but I really doubt cooking and cleaning are in your job description. Neither is shopping, for that matter.” He searched my eyes, but I didn’t know what he expected to find. “I don’t want to be your charity case. I don’t deal well with pity.”
“It’s not pity,” I told him firmly, which was the absolute truth.
He nodded slowly. “Then what are we doing?”
I had no clue what to tell him, because I didn’t know what this was either. “I-I… just think you deserve it, okay? It wasn’t fair what happened to you. Please… just let me help. I want to.”
His eyes softened, and he reached for me, his hand stalling halfway between us before he let it drop back to his side. There was more than a little confusion lingering between us. We were more than patient and therapist, that much was obvious. Beyond that, only time would tell.
A man sidled past our cart, drawing our attention. His focus was on a display of stacked honeydew melons. He was running his hands over each one, not just squeezing but caressing . It was borderline lewd. My eyebrows jumped as he leaned in and sniffed one obscenely, letting out a little moan. When he licked it, I had to slap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.
I leaned in to Peter’s ear and hissed, “He’d better buy that one.”
“He licked it, so it’s his,” he whispered back.
Laughing lightened the tension building between us, and I wasn’t ready to let the heavy mood come back just yet.
Smirking, I plucked a peach from the stack on my right. “Are you hungry?” I asked, holding it up and sliding the tip of my finger along the crease, then gave it an exaggerated sniff.
“Famished,” he replied, tearing a banana off a bunch and wiggling it in the air.
We both giggled like teenagers, and I swore I felt it break down another wall between us. We may not have had a clue about what was building between us, but it was there, as sure as the air I breathed. I hadn’t even been aware of how lonely I was, but the more time I spent with Peter, everything began to feel so much lighter. I looked forward to the time we spent together, and it didn’t feel right to get paid for doing something I craved.
Our shopping done, we made our way to the checkout. I noticed sweat had begun to collect along his hairline, and when he handed his credit card over, his hand was shaking. He had pushed himself past his limit today, and he needed to get home, though I knew he would never admit it.
Walking out to the parking lot, I found myself making excuses to touch him, my hand lingering on his back and arm as I helped him into the car. Dammit, I really liked Peter. The more he emerged from the shadows, the more I found I respected his strength, his resilience. He’d given me glimpses of his fears and weaknesses, and I found myself falling for his gentle heart.
Despite all my rules to protect myself, I could feel myself getting too close… but I couldn’t bring myself to walk away.