Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
CHARLOTTE
Ishould be on top of the world. Today’s the day Patel clears Declan. After nearly nine weeks of rehab, rules, and hiding, we finally get to breathe. We can make it official, stop pretending we’re nothing more than captain and PT. He’s back, and we’re finally allowed to be us.
I should be ecstatic, but my body feels heavy, like someone pulled the plug and drained all my energy overnight. I slept fine, but it doesn’t feel like it. My head’s foggy, my stomach unsettled, and I can’t quite shake it.
I tell myself it’s just nerves or the crash after so many long days. I start setting up my station—fresh towels, resistance bands, tape lined up perfectly across the counter. It’s mindless, grounding, the kind of routine that makes me feel in control.
By the time Declan walks in, I’ve already triple-checked everything. It’s ridiculous—I’ve done this hundreds of times—but my hands won’t stop fussing.
Patel’s right behind him, tablet in hand, calm as ever. He greets us both, then gets straight to it. No small talk, just the methodical rhythm of a clearance exam.
Declan looks relaxed, loose. Confident in that quiet way he gets when he knows his body’s ready. I stay beside Patel, jotting notes, helping when needed: range of motion, stability, strength. All of it looks perfect.
My chest feels tight, but not from nerves. It’s more like my body’s lagging behind the moment, a half-second offbeat. I blink hard, shake it off, focus on the numbers.
Patel moves through the final test, nodding once. “Looks solid,” he says, glancing at Declan. “Full clearance. Effective immediately.”
Declan exhales, a low laugh under his breath, relief and pride mixing in his voice. I can feel my own smile before I even realize it’s there.
This is it. The moment we’ve been waiting for. The one that changes everything.
Dr. Patel claps Declan on the shoulder and congratulates him, then adds something about sticking with maintenance and reporting any swelling.
I catch maybe half of it because a sudden wave of light-headedness blurs the edges of the room.
I steady a hand on the treatment table, force a deep breath, and nod like everything’s fine.
Declan glances my way, eyebrows pinched, and for a second I think he might ask—but Patel’s still talking, and I manage a small, reassuring smile.
He passed. He’s back. We made it.
So why do I feel like my body didn’t get the memo?
Patel’s barely out the door when Declan turns to me, that grin already spreading across his face—the one that starts small and takes over everything.
“Guess that means you’re officially off the hook,” he says, voice low and warm.
I smile back, though my body feels slow catching up to it. “Feels strange. Good strange.”
He takes a step closer, leaning on the edge of the table. “So what happens now? With HR, I mean.”
“I’ll file the transfer paperwork today and email HR to request a meeting,” I tell him. “Once they send a few options, I’ll loop you in to pick something that works around practice, and we can go together.”
He nods, that easy confidence settling in his expression. “Finally legit.”
“Finally,” I echo, the word landing somewhere deep in my chest. It feels like exhaling after holding my breath for weeks.
For a second we just stand there—close, quiet, both soaking it in. He reaches for my hand, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. It’s such a small thing, but it feels like more than it should.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks suddenly, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You look… pale.”
I pull in a steady breath, force a small smile. “Just tired. Long few weeks.”
He studies me like he doesn’t quite believe it, but he lets it go, giving my hand one last squeeze before stepping back. “Get some rest, okay?”
“Only if you do,” I say, and this time my smile’s real.
He grins—soft, sure, the kind that makes everything inside me settle—and then he’s gone, heading down the hall toward the locker room.
The room feels too quiet after he leaves, the echo of his voice still hanging in the air. I sink onto the treatment table, hand pressed to my chest, waiting for the adrenaline to fade.
It doesn’t.
My phone buzzes on the counter.
Kristy: Still on for dinner and drinks tonight?
A small smile tugs at my mouth.
I text back: Wouldn’t miss it.
Declan’s staying in with Sophie tonight, and after the morning we’ve had, the timing couldn’t be better. A quiet night with my best friend, a chance to finally tell her everything.
Kristy picks the place. It’s a small bar that’s half-sports-pub, half-wine-lounge. It’s loud enough that no one cares what we’re saying but quiet enough that we don’t have to shout. She’s already at a table when I walk in, two drinks waiting, that grin that never changes lighting up her face.
“Okay,” she says the second I sit. “Finally. Tell me this BIG news you’ve been holding hostage since Vegas.”
I laugh, dropping my bag onto the seat beside me. “You’re not even going to ask how I am first?”
“I can ask,” she says, eyes narrowing. “But you look wiped, so maybe the news will wake you up. Start talking.”
I lean back, the exhaustion pressing heavier than I want to admit. “We said it,” I tell her quietly.
She blinks. “Said it?”
“‘I love you,’” I say, and the words still feel new, fragile, a little unreal on my tongue.
Kristy squeals, nearly spilling her drink. “Wait—you both already said it? Wow. That was fast.”
I laugh, cheeks warming. “I know. It just… happened. And it felt right.”
She grins, eyes softening. “I’m really happy for you, Char. You deserve this.” She lifts her glass. “To no more secrets.”
We clink, and for a second, everything feels light—easy in a way it hasn’t in months.
I tell her about Dr. Patel clearing Declan this morning, about the HR plan, about how surreal it feels that we finally get to just… exist. By the time I finish, my face aches from smiling.
Kristy leans in, studying me. “You sound happy, but you don’t look it. You’re pale.”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically. “Just tired. My body hasn’t caught up to the rest of me yet.”
She tilts her head, frowning. “You sure that’s all it is? You’ve been dragging for days. You’re not sick, are you?”
I shake my head. “No fever. No sore throat. Just… tired.”
Her eyes narrow, teasing but curious. “You sure it’s not something else? You’ve got that weird combination of exhausted and kind of glowy.”
I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Kristy—”
She grins. “I’m just saying. Stranger things have happened.”
“You think I’m pregnant?” I ask, half laughing.
“Hey, I’m not saying you are,” she says, raising her hands. “I’m just saying it wouldn’t be impossible.”
I open my mouth to argue, but she arches a brow. “When was your last period?”
I frown, thinking. “It's always all over the place because of my birth control.”
Kristy studies me for a long moment.
“Okay,” she says softly. “But maybe check, just in case.”
I lean back, sip my drink, and let the conversation drift to something else. But later, when we’re saying goodbye and the night air hits me, the question won’t shake loose.
What if she’s right?