Chapter 18
The physical therapy room was stark and smelled of antiseptic, a scent Harper had come to associate with both pain and progress.
Today, the familiar space felt different, charged with a nervous energy that had little to do with the parallel bars or resistance bands.
Liam stood beside her, his easy warmth a stark contrast to the clinical coolness of the room.
Their therapist, Dr. Reese, was explaining the day's main exercise, and Harper's focus kept snagging on the way Liam's shoulder occasionally brushed hers, sending a jolt through her that had nothing to do with rehabilitation.
Dr. Reese’s voice was calm, but Harper could detect a subtle undercurrent of anticipation. Lately, Dr. Reese seemed to be pushing them, nudging their boundaries both physically and emotionally.
“Alright you two,” Dr. Reese began, clipboard in hand, “Today, we’re going to try something a little different. It’s called the ‘Partner Trust Squat.’”
Harper’s eyebrows shot up. A trust exercise? With Liam? Her anxiety spiked.
Dr. Reese gestured with her pen. “You’ll stand back-to-back, link arms, and use each other as counterweights to lower yourselves into a deep squat and rise again.”
Harper stared, picturing the maneuver. It sounded…complicated. And intimate. Far too intimate.
Liam, however, seemed unfazed. He turned to Harper, a confident grin plastered on his face. “Sounds…fun, right?”
Harper managed a tight smile. Fun wasn’t exactly the word that sprang to mind. Mortifying, maybe. Or disastrous.
“This isn’t just about leg strength,” Dr. Reese said, her tone professional but her eyes perceptive. “It’s about communication without words. You have to anticipate, to trust that the other person will be your anchor.”
Liam responded with a confident, “We’ve got this,” directed at Harper, his easy reassurance a balm on her anxiety. Harper’s reply was just a tight, uncertain nod.
They positioned themselves back-to-back, the awkwardness palpable. Harper could feel the heat radiating from Liam’s back, a strange contrast to the cool air of the room. They tentatively linked arms, their fingers tangling.
“Ready?” Liam asked, his voice close to her ear.
“As I’ll ever be,” Harper muttered, trying to ignore the way her heart was hammering against her ribs.
They began their descent. The first few attempts were awkward and disjointed, marked by nervous laughter, stumbled steps, and a clear hesitation to fully surrender their weight and control to the other person.
Harper felt off-balance, her muscles protesting with every inch she lowered.
Liam was strong, she could feel his steady presence behind her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they were one wrong move away from collapsing in a tangled heap on the floor.
“Whoa, almost ate it there,” Liam chuckled, his breath warm against her neck.
“Yeah, well, try not to, okay?” Harper snapped, more on edge than she wanted to admit.
They tried again. And again. Each time, something felt off. Either Harper was too stiff, or Liam was too eager, or they simply couldn't find a shared center of gravity. Frustration mounted with each failed attempt.
“Maybe we should just call it,” Harper suggested, her voice laced with defeat.
Liam, however, was undeterred. “Nah, we’re getting there. Just gotta…feel it.”
Feel it? What did that even mean? Harper huffed, but she didn't pull away. She knew Liam was right. They were close. They just needed to find that elusive rhythm.
They took a deep breath and tried once more.
This time, something shifted. They found their rhythm.
The clumsy movements smoothed into a single, synchronized motion.
Harper focused on Liam's steady breathing, matching her own to his.
She let go of her fear, surrendering to the connection between them.
The physical strain was immense, every muscle screaming in protest, but the feeling of being perfectly in sync, of moving as one cohesive unit, overshadowed it. They successfully completed the exercise, lowering into a deep squat, their bodies aligned, their weight perfectly balanced.
The air crackled with an unspoken energy.
For the first time, Harper allowed herself to fully trust. She felt Liam's strength supporting her, anchoring her, and a wave of gratitude washed over her, pushing back the fear and doubt.
She realized she wasn't just relying on his physical strength; she was relying on him.
Rising was even harder. Their muscles trembled, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. But they pushed through, drawing strength from each other. They rose slowly together, the shared effort leaving them both breathless and flushed.
The moment they were standing straight, they didn't immediately separate.
The physical connection—arms linked, backs pressed together—lingered.
Harper could feel the sweat dampening her shirt, the frantic thumping of her own heart mirroring what she thought was Liam's.
The clinical space seemed to have shrunk, the air thick with something new, something that made her skin prickle.
They slowly turned to face each other, the small space between them buzzing with unspoken emotion. The success of the exercise was less about the physical milestone and more about the profound, undeniable trust it represented.
Harper experienced a profound shift from guarded independence to complete surrender.
For the first time, she fully let go, placing her physical safety and the weight of her broken dreams into Liam's hands.
Succeeding flooded her not just with relief, but with an overwhelming wave of affection and connection, realizing her trust in him was now absolute.
She wondered if he knew how much this meant to her, how fragile it made her feel.
Liam consciously decided to be Harper's rock.
He tuned out everything else—his own aches, his own worries—and focused solely on her breathing and movement, making her stability his only goal.
The feeling of her trusting him so completely solidified the depth of his feelings, moving them from a protective instinct to something much deeper and more vulnerable.
Her determination was a beacon, and it spurred him to do everything he could to keep her standing tall.
In the breathless moment after they completed the exercise, Liam murmured, his voice low and raspy, “See? Knew you wouldn’t let me fall.”
Harper looked up, her eyes wide, and could only manage a shaky whisper, “I knew you wouldn’t let me either.”
The conversation was brief, but it was a raw and honest admission of their complete faith in each other, far transcending the physical exercise. It was the kind of trust she hadn't allowed herself to feel for anyone in a long time, a trust that both terrified and exhilarated her.
Dr. Reese quietly gathered her notes, offering a soft, “Excellent work today,” before slipping out of the room, leaving them in a pocket of charged silence. Harper’s gaze darted nervously toward the door, wishing Dr. Reese hadn't abandoned them.
They stood less than a foot apart, chests rising and falling in unison. Liam's gaze dropped from Harper's eyes to her lips, and his hand lifted slightly, fingers twitching as if he wanted to close the distance, to touch her face. He didn't.
Harper's breath hitched. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, and she could see the pulse throbbing in his neck. She knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling. She felt it too. A magnetic pull, a desperate yearning.
The air between them felt thick and heavy, charged with unspoken desires. She licked her lips, a nervous habit she couldn't seem to control.
He swallowed hard, his gaze intensifying. He wanted to kiss her. She knew it. And God, she wanted him to.
But something held him back. Doubt? Fear? Or maybe just a sense of responsibility, a need to protect her from something, even if that something was himself.
The moment hung, suspended and fragile, filled with the promise of a threshold they were just about to cross.
Harper's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm echoing the chaotic dance of emotions swirling within her.
She braced herself, unsure whether to lean in or pull away, whether to embrace the moment or run from it.