8. Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Rowan
My brain and my body fought for control. My brain said to turn and face the elevator wall until this ride from hell was over. My fingers wouldn’t let go of Cal’s shirt. My feet wouldn’t move. My vagina jolted awake and sent an urgent message to my brain to hit the emergency stop button. I was so embarrassed by my own labored breathing it took a moment to realize Cal’s chest was heaving beneath my hands.
I finally glanced up at his face and stopped breathing altogether.
No man had ever focused on me like that. Brad always glanced around the room, even when we were having a conversation or alone. Cal’s hooded eyes bore into me with an intensity that made my knees shake. The elevator landed on the first floor with a thud, and I swayed.
Cal morphed from sex god to concerned physical therapist in an instant. The lust vanished from his face, and when he put his hand on my elbow to steady me, his touch felt gentle but clinical, much like it had when he guided me through exercises during our first session.
The doors slid open, and he backed out of the elevator, keeping his hand on me until we were both in the hallway.
“Thank you, Dr. Cardoso. I can manage from here.”
I walked past him toward the lobby. His sneakers thudded behind me.
“I can’t,” he said, reaching around me to open the front door. He motioned for me to walk through, and I did, confused by what he’d said and the fact he’d followed me out.
I walked a few steps on the sidewalk and spun to face him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m assessing your walk to see if it’s improved after the heat mat.”
“Did you miss the part where I stormed out? You’re not my physical therapist anymore.”
“About that,” he said, taking a step forward. “I know our first sessions have been tense, but I promise I’ll never ask about the accident again. It’s clear you’re in pain, and I want to help you.”
My cheeks flushed at the mention of the accident, but I straightened as much as my aching back allowed. I couldn’t let embarrassment keep me from moving forward with my life. And since Cal turned me into a flustered mess every time we saw each other, I needed to find another PT. “I’m sorry, Dr. Cardoso. This isn’t working.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, placing his hands on his chest. “Shit. I should have said that first.” He gripped his thick hair and blew out a breath. “I’m really fucking this up, aren’t I?”
He let his hands fall, leaving his hair an adorable mess. I hardly recognize this version of Caleb Cardoso. On Tuesday, I noticed he’d dropped the cocky strut of a high school football star, but he still moved with smooth confidence. Standing before me now, he looked rattled, almost awkward.
“Do you usually curse so much with patients?”
His eyes widened. His expression screamed “Oh shit” but he pressed his full lips together and didn’t say the words.
“Goodbye, Dr. Cardoso,” I said and started walking again. At first, I thought he’d gone back to his office, but before long, I heard him walking behind me again. He followed me into the park before he spoke.
“You’re not as hunched as you were when you arrived.”
I stopped and took a deep breath before turning around. Cal had a dangerous power over me. I didn’t want him as my PT, and I had every right to go somewhere else. “Look, I’m trying to be as civil as possible here. We live on the same street for now, and Chris really looks up to you, for some reason. Please, don’t make this weird. Just leave me alone.”
“I can’t,” he said.
Ok, this was getting a little creepy. Several moms chatted nearby while their toddlers ran in and out of the playhouse that had been in the park since I was a kid. An older couple held hands as they admired a row of rose bushes. I wasn’t used to ridding myself of persistent men, but this seemed as good a place as any. “Um, that’s flattering, I guess, but we barely know each other. You didn’t even recognize me on Tuesday. You need to go now.”
Cal’s eyes widened again. “I’ve made you uncomfortable.”
“You seem surprised. I’m guessing you don’t usually follow women after they tell you to leave them alone.”
“I don’t think a woman has ever told me that,” he said.
I rolled my eyes and started walking deeper into the park.
“If you don’t come back with me, I’ll lose my job.”
I stopped and turned to face him. That didn’t make any sense. Surely one patient leaving wouldn’t be a big deal. It had to happen all the time. Maybe not to Cal, but often enough his job shouldn’t be in danger if I wanted a different PT. “Really?”
He nodded.
My brain and body went to battle, and yet again, my body won. Instead of walking away, I found myself walking toward him. “I don’t understand. Mom made it sound like you were so busy you were doing her a favor fitting me in. Why would you get fired if I left?”
“A couple months ago, she’d have been right. And I’d have squeezed you in if she asked. Your family has done a lot for me since I moved to Sullivan Street.”
“What changed?”
He took a deep breath as though giving himself time to decide where to start and how much to share. “Do you remember Avery Peterson?”
I couldn’t forget Avery if I wanted. Bullies left an impression long after the daily torture ended. “Your high school girlfriend.”
He nodded. “We started seeing each other again, casually, at the beginning of the year. At least, I thought it was casual. After what happened—” He shook his head as if to shake the memories from his mind. “Anyway, I realized she thought it was more than it was, so I ended things. She didn’t take it well.”
“Ok,” I said more confused than when we started the conversation. I had zero interest in the details of Cal and Avery’s relationship, past or present. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“I’ll show you,” he said pulling his phone from his pocket and typing. After a moment he handed it to me. He’d entered his name in a search engine along with physical therapist in Peace Falls, VA . The site had returned several review pages. Cal had terrible cumulative ratings on all of them. I clicked on one and started reading the comments accompanying the one-star reviews.
Do not go to Dr. Cardoso. I hurt more after our session.
That didn’t seem too bad. I was also in pain after my first session, but both my orthopedic surgeon and Cal had explained that was expected. Anyone familiar with the process should know not to blame the PT. The next comment was harsher.
Dr. Cardoso has terrible bedside manners. He made me cry.
Technically, Cal had made me cry too, though that’d been more from embarrassment than anything he said. It was believable he’d brought someone else to tears. The next comment, though, didn’t feel right.
This man is completely incompetent. He had me do arm exercises for most of the session. I’m recovering from hip surgery.
Many of the comments didn’t even explain why he’d received one star.
Just no. Run.
Cal kept silent while I read, but after a moment he said, “Now scroll down and read the comments that are older than two months.”
All the reviews from April or before were positive, glowing even. Nearly all had left a five-star rating. There was also something strange about the number of recent comments. They took up a larger percentage than the prior two years combined. My analyst brain clicked on. The newest reviews had tanked his cumulative rating, and unless Cal had seen five times the patients in the past two months than in the last years, most, if not all, were bogus.
“Avery ruined your online reputation.”
Cal nodded. “The bulk of my business is new clients. I do treat patients with chronic conditions, but for the most part, people come to me after surgery or an injury. I’m still getting some patients from word of mouth, but most people check online reviews before starting treatment.”
“Can’t you get these taken down?”
“It’s not as easy as you’d think. Avery creates new accounts to post reviews faster than I can have them removed.”
“But that’s not your fault. Your job shouldn’t be on the line.”
“Dr. Cohen feels otherwise. Right before you arrived this morning, he said I had until the end of July to clean up my reviews. He also said he’d fire me if any of my current patients complained.”
My stomach sank. Cal really would lose his job if I didn’t continue treatment. I knew what it felt like to be at Avery’s mercy, to have my life shaped by her daily decision to ignore or inflict pain. Still, I didn’t want to finish PT with Cal. One: He brought out the worst in me. Two: Despite that, I still wanted to rip his scrubs off and lick his chest. And judging by his reaction in the elevator, he might not mind.
I had enough problems of my own without worrying about Cal’s. Lusting after him twice a week didn’t seem wise either. I handed him the phone and turned my face away, so I didn’t have to look him in the eyes when I told him no.
He let out a sigh. “Claudia Nguyen works out of an office in Jericho. She’s worth the ten-minute drive if you can manage it. Otherwise, I recommend Ted Savanti on Maple. If either can’t see you right away, keep up with the stretches I showed you on Tuesday and try to go on a walk every day. Start small and build. Take standing breaks if you sit for a while, and if possible, elevate your feet whenever you sit to reduce the pressure on your lower back.”
He started to walk away, and I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. “Chris.”
He stopped and turned as though I’d meant to call him but used the wrong name. I hadn’t. Since I’d been home, I’d seen how much my little brother enjoyed spending time with Cal. Chris might be the happiest person I knew, but it couldn’t be easy growing up without a father in a house full of sports-hating women, especially for a kid as athletic as Chris. He was always looking for someone to join him in a pickup game. I’d hate to see the relationship he’d built with Cal suffer because of me. “Chris needs help training for tryouts,” I said.
Cal nodded, and I saw the moment he caught the hint I’d dropped. “You want me to train him in exchange for you remaining my patient.”
“Would you?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he nodded.
Part of me felt bad for coercing him to help my brother. But the scrap of pride I’d managed to keep after Brad and the accident felt intact. I could keep working with Cal for Chris’s sake without feeling like a complete doormat.
“You can never tell Chris,” I said. “He needs to believe you’re helping him because you want to, not because I forced you.”
“That’s a given,” he said with some heat.
“We better go,” I said and started walking toward Main Street. “I assume your boss needs to see me with you before my session ends, and it’s going to take me a while to get back.”
He nodded. “I said we were doing stair training when you left. Here,” he said holding out his hand. “Let me take your bag.”
Usually, I wouldn’t pass my purse to someone to carry but my back and shoulder were aching. I handed it over and he tested the weight of it before slinging it over his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to carry a woman’s purse. But after a minute, he frowned.
“You don’t have to carry it,” I said, as we passed a young woman on the sidewalk. She gave Cal a heated glance but kept walking when she saw the bag on his shoulder.
“This is too heavy.”
A laugh burst from me before I could stop it. “I’m happy to carry it if it’s too much for you to handle, Big Guy.”
He smiled but shook his head. “I just meant you shouldn’t be putting this much pressure on your back while it’s healing. Not for extended periods of time.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. Usually it’s not so heavy, but I brought along my laptop to do some work later.”
When we reached the building, he held the door for me again. I groaned as we approached the stairs.
“We can take the elevator up. At least to the third floor. It’s best if you’re a little out of breath when we get back, but one flight ought to do it.”
I shook my head and gripped the railing. “I’m never getting in that elevator with you again.”
“Yeah, probably not a good idea,” he said and cleared his throat. His cheeks reddened, and I felt my own burn.
For the next ten minutes, I climbed while he stood behind me, offering words of encouragement.
Two flights up, I was such a sweaty, shaky mess, he told me to stop. “Why don’t you ride the elevator the rest of the way. I’ll walk up.”
I nodded, too out of breath to answer. When the elevator doors slid open on the fourth floor, he was already waiting. Dr. Cohen looked up when we walked into the office together, and Cammie smiled.
“Let’s cool down with some stretches,” Cal said. He placed my bag carefully on the floor by the table I’d laid on earlier and guided me to the middle of the room. We talked as little as possible while he worked me through a series of stretches, but when our time ended, I smiled and thanked him, loudly.
“When should I book my next appointment?” I asked. I didn’t need to raise my voice anymore since Dr. Cohen had inched closer to us as soon as his patient left.
“Let’s get on a Monday and Thursday schedule, if that works for you. That will give you enough rest days in between to recuperate.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.” I grabbed my bag and waved at Cal, and Dr. Cohen for good measure, and made my way to the reception desk.
Cammie beamed at me. “First thing in the morning again?”
“Yes. I like to catch a ride with my mom on her way to work.”
“You’re all set then.” She glanced behind me as Dr. Cohen walked past us to his office and shut the door. “Let me walk you out,” she whispered, rising from her chair.
“You don’t need to,” I said as she pulled the bag from my shoulder.
“Dang, woman,” she said in the hall, hefting it with both hands. “You carry too much.”
“Trust me, that’s the least of my baggage.”
For some reason, we both started laughing. Cammie pressed the elevator button. “Look,” she said once the doors closed behind us. The elevator felt three times larger than when I stood inside with Cal. “I know this is entirely unprofessional, but Dr. Cardoso is like the big brother I never had. He’s also an amazing practitioner.”
I held up my hand to stop her. “I don’t need the sales pitch. He told me about the online reviews. We have an understanding.”
Her shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank goodness.”
“So, Cal’s like a brother to you?” I asked raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not blind,” she said. “The man is hot enough to melt butter in Antarctica, but I wouldn’t date him, even if I hadn’t sworn off men.”
“Why is that?” I asked. Not that it mattered, but Cammie and Cal seemed like a perfect match. She even had the same willowy frame and long blonde hair as Avery.
She shrugged. “Two broken people rarely make each other whole. At least not in my experience.”
“Maybe,” I said, softening my voice. There was something so likeable and sweet about Cammie. The thought of someone or something hurting her made me sad. “But in my experience, broken people like us make the best friends.”
She smiled. “You don’t seem broken to me, Rowan. Not in the way Cal and I are. I can’t wait to see what happens when you realize you’re not.”