Chapter 4 #2
"I'm saying you've built an impressive physique with some fundamental imbalances that will eventually sideline you permanently if not addressed."
“So you think my physique is impressive, huh?”
She gives me a half-smile and starts to demonstrate several stretches, explaining the biomechanics behind each one. Her knowledge is impressive—she's not just going through the motions but explaining the why behind everything.
"The shoulder joint is inherently unstable," she explains, manipulating my arm through a specific pattern. "It trades stability for mobility, which means the surrounding musculature has to be balanced. You've overdeveloped certain muscle groups while neglecting others."
She has me sit up, then moves behind me for a seated stretch. "I hope it’s okay but I need to use my body weight for the proper stretch angle."
Her chest presses against my back as she takes my arm, rotating it slowly while her other hand stabilizes my shoulder blade. It’s an intimate position. Her breath is warm against my neck, and she smells like something clean and floral.
"Breathe into the stretch," she instructs, her voice close to my ear. "Don't force it."
I'm focusing on breathing and definitely not on how perfectly she fits against me when I hear footsteps.
Stuart stands in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral except for the muscle jumping in his jaw.
His eyes take in our position—Claire pressed against my back, her arms wrapped around me to maintain the stretch—and something dangerous flashes in his gaze.
"Stuart," Claire says, professional despite our compromising position. "Jonathan has an anterior deltoid strain with subscapularis involvement."
"I see." His voice is arctic. "And the treatment plan?"
She doesn't move away from me, maintains the stretch like Stuart's presence doesn't affect her at all. "Anti-inflammatory protocol including supplementation. Movement retraining to address the imbalances. And regular manual therapy to address the compensation patterns before they become permanent."
"How regular?" Stuart asks, his tone suggesting he already knows he won't like the answer.
"Three times a week initially, then we can reassess based on progress." She finally releases the stretch, and I’m instantly amazed at how much better it feels already.
"That seems excessive."
Claire stands smoothly, meeting his gaze directly. "It’s what needs to happen to prevent reinjury. Do you have a different professional opinion, Dr. Miller?"
They stare at each other, the air crackling with tension. The silence stretches, loaded with everything they're not saying.
"It's your money to waste," Stuart finally says to me, then disappears back to his office.
Claire watches him go, something flickering across her face—hurt maybe, or frustration—before she pulls herself together.
"Let's work on those external rotators," she says, her voice carefully neutral.
For the next thirty minutes, she puts me through my paces.
It's humbling discovering how many weaknesses I have despite my visible strength.
She identifies issues I didn't even know existed—a slight leg length discrepancy that's causing the hip imbalance, weakness in my serratus anterior that's affecting my shoulder stability, tightness in my back that's limiting overhead mobility.
"You're incredibly knowledgeable," I tell her as she demonstrates a particular exercise. "This is way beyond what I expected from chiropractic care."
"Most people don't understand what proper sports chiropractic involves.
It's not just about adjustments—it's about understanding the entire kinetic chain, how the body works as a unit.
" She guides me through the movement again.
"I spent years studying biomechanics, nutrition, exercise physiology.
The spine is just one component of a complex system. "
"Where did you train?"
"Palmer College, then additional certifications in sports medicine and nutrition. I was building a thriving practice in Manhattan before—" She stops abruptly.
"Before the ex fucked it all up?" I venture carefully.
Her face closes off slightly. "That's not relevant to your treatment."
"Of course. Well, I'd like to hire you. Not just for the shoulder—for overall wellness consulting. Nutrition, movement, the whole package."
"That's not necessary—"
"It is. I make my living with my body. If I've been doing things wrong, I need to know." I pause, considering my next words. "Plus, honestly? I'm intrigued. You clearly know your stuff, and I could use someone who'll call me on my bullshit training habits."
She starts packing her bag. "This would be strictly professional. I'm not interested in... complications."
"Of course. Though I should warn you—Stuart's going to be a complication whether either of you wants it or not. Man's about as subtle as a sledgehammer when he's interested in someone."
"He's not interested. He made that very clear."
"Did he? Or did he just do what Stuart always does—run away from anything that might actually matter?"
She pauses, considering this. "It doesn't matter either way. I'm here to build my practice, not to get involved with anyone. Especially not someone who treats people as disposable."
"Fair enough. But just so you know—we're not all like Stuart. Some of us actually know how to appreciate a good thing when we see it."
She looks at me sharply, trying to read my intentions. "Jonathan—"
"I'm just saying. You're attractive, intelligent, and apparently capable of making Stuart feel actual human emotions, which is basically a superpower. If he's too stupid to appreciate that, others might not be."
"Are you hitting on me?"
"I'm stating facts. Whether that constitutes hitting on you depends on your interpretation."
Despite herself, she laughs. "You're nothing like you are on your YouTube channel."
"You've watched my channel?"
More color in her cheeks. "I might have done some research last night after you all left. Professional curiosity about your training methods."
"And?"
"You're quite good at what you do. Your form demonstrations are excellent, and you explain things in an accessible way."
"So, you were checking me out for professional reasons?"
"Strictly professional."
"Of course." I grin, enjoying her slight discomfort. "So, Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday? Ten AM?"
"That works. I'll email you a detailed treatment plan later today, including the supplement protocol and dietary recommendations."
"And I'll actually follow them, unlike Stuart who thinks coffee and a superiority complex constitute a balanced diet."
She laughs again, more relaxed now. "Sounds like he has a very limited nutritional approach."
"You should see Dane. Man survives on whatever we put in front of him and whatever snacks he can grab between writing sessions. We're all disasters in our own special ways."
"But you're willing to work on it. That counts for something."
She heads toward the door, and I follow, noting the way she carefully doesn't look toward Stuart's office.
"Claire?"
She turns at the door. "Yes?"
"Whatever happened with your ex—it was his loss."
Something vulnerable flashes across her face before she masks it. "Thank you. That... means a lot."
After she leaves, I find Stuart in his office, aggressively typing something that's probably not nearly as important as he's pretending it is.
"She's treating me three times a week," I announce.
"I heard."
"She's incredibly knowledgeable."
His typing gets more aggressive.
"She also looks hot as hell in workout gear. Even with zero makeup on."
His keyboard might not survive this conversation.
"I'm thinking about asking her out."
Stuart's hands still completely. He turns in his chair, fixing me with a look that would intimidate someone who hadn't known him for fifteen years.
"You're not actually interested in her," he says flatly.
"Why do you keep saying that? Maybe I am. Maybe I'm tired of dating women who only care about my subscriber count and whether I have six-pack abs."
"She's not interested in you."
"You sure about that? Seemed pretty comfortable with all that hands-on treatment."
Stuart stands abruptly, his chair rolling back to hit the wall. "This is exactly why I didn't want to get involved with her. The complications, the proximity, the inevitable drama—"
"The fact that you actually like her?"
"That's not—"
"Stuart." I move closer, noting how his fists are clenched. "Either admit you want her and do something about it, or step aside and let someone else appreciate what you're too scared to pursue."
"It's not about being scared."
"No? Then what's it about?"
He's quiet for a long moment, staring out the window at Lottie's house. "She deserves better than what I can offer."
"Maybe. Or maybe she deserves the chance to decide that for herself."
"And if she decides you're the better option?"
There's something in his voice—not quite vulnerability, but close. Stuart doesn't do vulnerable, but Claire's got him twisted up in ways I've never seen.
"Then we deal with it like adults," I say carefully. "But honestly? I don't think she's going to choose either of us. Girl's been hurt, and she's focused right now on rebuilding her life. We're just... complications she doesn't need."
"Then why pursue it?"
"Because maybe being a complication isn't always bad. Maybe sometimes it's exactly what someone needs to remember they're alive."
Stuart looks at me, really looks at me, and I see him registering that I'm serious. This isn't just about needling him or creating drama. I'm genuinely interested in Claire—her intelligence, her strength, the way she doesn't take anyone's bullshit.
"This won't end well," he says finally.
"Probably not," I agree. "But at least it'll be interesting. And honestly, Stuart? When's the last time any of us did something just because it was interesting?"
He doesn't answer, turning back to his computer. But I catch him glancing out the window again, toward Lottie's house, and I know he's thinking about her. Wondering what she's doing. Regretting that he left her his stupid business card.
Good. Maybe if he suffers enough, he'll actually do something about it. And if not? Well, I meant what I said. Claire's remarkable, and someone should appreciate that.
Even if that someone isn't the one she really wants.