Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Addy
“Do you have a few minutes, Addy?” Mrs. Rockmartin asks, standing at the door to mine and Kara’s office.
“Yes, ma’am, I’m between patients right now,” I reply. I quickly lock the patient record I was updating and stand, before following her to her office.
“Go ahead and close the door,” she instructs as she settles behind her desk. I do so then take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk.
“Is everything okay?” I question, suddenly nervous. I don’t know why; every one of my yearly evaluations has been good, and I’ve gotten consistent raises as well as solid feedback about my performance.
She pulls a sheaf of papers from a file and smiles.
“Based on what you shared in the meeting a week or so ago, I pulled everyone’s timesheets.
We have no plan to lose any of the wonderful therapists we’ve added to the Rockmartin family, but until you spoke up, we had no idea that things were not as they seemed.
What we found is that there are five of you who have been double-booked, and while there might be times when y’all are all busier than normal, it shouldn’t be a regular thing.
Specifically, in your case, you’ve been handling a monthly workload every single week for the past three months, Addy.
In an effort to compensate you fairly, we’ve decided to pay you for those nine weeks that you were overworked.
Not only that, but we’ve added two weeks to your vacation time, and we’re giving you a five-thousand-dollar bonus. ”
I sit back, stunned. My monthly salary is nothing to sneeze at to begin with, and getting nine months’ worth at once, plus a bonus on top of it, means that the last little bit of my outstanding debt is about to be paid off.
The extra vacation time isn’t going to hurt, either, especially since Betty and I want to go to the Bahamas for our vacation this year.
“I… I don’t know what to say,” I reply, my voice wavering with emotion.
“There’s nothing to say, Addy. I’m appalled at what Janice was doing to you and the others right beneath our noses.
We know that there are times that our patient load increases, usually around the start of the various sporting seasons, of course, but making it so that the five of you bore the brunt of the patient load is reprehensible.
This is our way of making sure you know you’re a valued member of the team,” she says.
“Now, I’m not sure what the rest of your schedule has on it today, but I’d love to take you to lunch if you have time. ”
“I just have my little guy coming in today, as well as a new patient for his initial assessment, but neither are coming until after lunch,” I confess.
“Then let’s go eat and you can tell me about that delightful little boy whose giggles are infectious,” she states.
“Cameron Shepherd?” I call out, my eyes widening when I see the gorgeous man stand and walk toward me. “JB, you’re with us as well,” I say, smiling at the little boy who has stolen my heart. “Darby, go do what you’ve gotta do while we’re busy getting him big and strong.”
“You need me to push you, kid?” Cameron asks.
“Naw, I got it, and you’ve got a sling on anyway,” JB replies. “That means you wouldn’t be able to push me in a straight line.”
I can’t help the giggle that escapes with JB’s logic as I lead them to the two tables we’ll be using today. “Okay, JB, hop up so we can take your measurements before you start working out. Mr. Shepherd, if you’ll sit on that table, I’ll get you going once JB is done.”
“Mongrel, please,” he says. “Mr. Shepherd reminds me of my uncle.”
“She does it to be polite,” JB states. “Hey, Mister, do you ride a motorcycle?”
I grin because despite having his arm in a sling, he’s wearing a cut denoting him as a member of the local motorcycle club, Kings of Anarchy. “Not right now until I get released,” Mongrel replies, “but yeah, I’ve got one and prefer riding it to being in a cage.”
“I wouldn’t wanna be in a cage either,” JB announces as I start checking measurements.
“I don’t think he means a cage like what an animal stays in,” I murmur, jotting down JB’s progress. “Looks like someone’s been doing his exercises at home. Good job!”
JB grins up at me then looks over to the man I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes off of and says, “If you do your exercises and work hard, Miss Addy will bring you surprises!”
Mongrel’s chuckle sets something simmering deep inside. Since I’m at work, I push it so far down, it’s now in my basement. “I bet she only does that for little guys like you,” he says. “And a cage is a vehicle, like a truck or car,” he adds.
“You never know. Do you like Iron Man?” JB asks.
“What’s not to like?” Mongrel replies. “The man behind the mask is brilliant, and I wish I had his smarts. I mean, he created Jarvis, right?”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes at the two of them as they carry on talking about superheroes and the benefits of having those powers. Still, I finally finish with JB’s assessment and say, “Okay, you know what you’ve gotta do now so get to it, young man!”
“Okay, Miss Addy. See ya out there, Mr. Mongrel,” JB says as he confidently gets off the table and heads over to the weight machine that I’ve already got set up for him.
Shaking my head, I turn to see Mongrel staring at me. “He’s something special,” he murmurs as he starts to watch JB work out.
“You have no idea,” I reply. “Okay, so it looks like you had to have a secondary nerve block, you’re two weeks out from surgery, and are here to get things started,” I say.
“Yeah, turns out it was the pain medication I was given that caused the severe reaction. Who knew you could be allergic to that?” he replies. “Dr. Albertson said that even though we’ll start out easy, it was important to get started so here I am.”
I remove the sling and ask, “Any issues at the incision sites?”
“Nope. Just went to that appointment this morning,” he admits. “But I’m lucky because one of my brothers is also a doctor, and his woman is a nurse, so they’ve been keeping an eye on everything.”
“So, we’re going to do some passive therapy today, but I have exercises I’ll show you that I want you to start doing outside of your sessions.
While I’m maneuvering your arm, let me know if there’s any pain, since I need to get a baseline on where your range of motion is right now,” I tell him. “You ready?”
“Let’s do it. The sooner I heal, the sooner I’m back on my bike and working,” he says. “Um, the kid, is he in foster care or something?”
Damn HIPAA, because I want to tell him about JB, but I can’t. “I honestly can’t answer that question, Mongrel,” I reply.
“I asked because I thought I recognized the woman he was with is all,” he states. “Will we have sessions together? I think Gretchen would enjoy creating something special for him.”
“Gretchen?” I ask as I gently palpate his arm before lifting it, watching him carefully. When I see him wince, I jot down some notes then say, “Not too bad for just being two weeks out.”
“Dr. Albertson’s PA gave me some basic exercises to do every day,” he replies. “Nothing crazy, just head side to sides, that sort of thing. She said it would keep the muscles loose.”
“She was right and it’s obvious you’ve been doing them,” I tell him.
“Gretchen is Doc’s ol’ lady and a nurse at the clinic he oversees and runs. She started making cake pops and other treats and I think JB would love them, especially if she can create something for Iron Man,” he says as I continue to manipulate his arm and shoulder.
“He probably would,” I say. “He’s a good kid and has made so much progress it blows me away.”
“Then I’m gonna ask her. Bonus for me since I’m one of the taste testers,” he admits before wincing again.
Despite the fact that he’s still got some pain, which I anticipated, I giggle when I see he’s serious about being the taste tester for whatever Gretchen makes. “Sounds like a win-win for you.”
“Absolutely. How long do you think it’s gonna take for me to fully heal? Do you date your patients?” he asks.
“Upwards of eight to twelve weeks. A lot depends on the patient, of course, and how much work they’re willing to put into their own progress. And no, I don’t date my patients,” I state. “It’s unethical, at least to me.”
My heart sighs when I have to share that with him, because he ticks off all the boxes for the mythical man I wished for years ago.
He’s taller than me, which isn’t too much of a challenge since I’m barely over five feet tall, and while I’m sure there are those out there who would advise against getting involved with a biker, there’s an inherent sense of gentleness in him.
I saw it with how he interacted with JB, and also how he speaks about one of his club brother’s woman.
“What if I got another therapist?” he questions, smirking at me.
“Oh, you’re trouble, aren’t you?” I retort as I grab the massage gel I use, then slip on a pair of nitrile gloves.
“I’m going to massage this into the area around your surgical sites but not directly on the incisions themselves.
If you’ve had a massage before, this is more about making sure that the passive movements I’ve been doing don’t cause you to have any spasms.”
“It was worth a shot,” he murmurs.
Yeah, Cameron “Mongrel” Shepherd could be very dangerous to my heart. I push those thoughts aside to focus on getting him sorted out so his next sessions can get scheduled.