Chapter 2 #3
Lena raised her hands in surrender and backed toward the door. “Your nine-thirty rescheduled, by the way. You’re free to head to Bunny’s early if you want.”
Bunny’s, where Maddy would be. Her heart immediately started racing.
Shit. She was so screwed.
* * *
The screen door at the Sterling house stuck like it always did, and Aspen shouldered through it with her folded treatment table in one hand and her equipment bag in the other.
Today, the familiar entry felt different.
Aspen had taken the long way over. The actual drive was seven minutes and she had stretched it to eleven, looping the block twice while giving herself a pep talk—it’s just a PT session, you have done this a thousand times, you are a professional, you have a doctorate for Christ’s sake.
Bunny was in the living room, enthroned on the sofa with her donut cushion and a mug of tea, wearing a silk robe in cerise pink with feathered cuffs.
CoCo was perched on the arm of the sofa, looking personally offended by the state of the world, per usual.
Chanel was curled up sweetly at Bunny’s feet, also per usual.
“Aspen, darling!” Bunny spread her arms wide. “Come in, come in.” She patted the sofa beside her. “We have much to discuss.”
“We have PT to do.” Aspen leaned the treatment table against the wall. “Then we can discuss.” She crouched to scratch behind Chanel’s ears, the fur soft under her fingertips, and Chanel wiggled at the attention, leaning into Aspen’s palm.
Bunny let her head fall back against the cushions. “Must you always lead with the torture?”
“I prefer to call it evidence-based rehabilitation, but sure.” Aspen had been redirecting Bunny away from her renegotiations for the better part of a decade. There was a specific tone of voice required for it—warm and immovable and slightly amused—and Aspen had perfected it to a T.
Bunny huffed with magnificent resignation. “Fine, but I need to use the little girl’s room first.” Then she held both hands out toward Aspen, fingers wiggling.
Aspen rose and took them, bracing her own weight to haul Bunny up off the sofa.
Aspen watched Bunny shuffle down the hallway, wincing with every step. From the kitchen came the hiss and grind of Bunny’s espresso machine and a low, displeased string of muttered curse words. She stared at the kitchen doorway for a beat too long before catching herself.
PT. Focus.
She set up the treatment table in the living room, a routine she’d performed a thousand times.
Unfold the legs. Smooth the sheet. Arrange the foam roller and resistance bands on the side table.
The mechanical precision of the setup usually anchored her.
Today, her hands moved through the motions while the rest of her tracked the sounds from the kitchen.
The clink of a spoon against ceramic. A cabinet opening and closing a little too hard.
A long, slow yawn that sounded like it had taken its time getting there.
And then Maddy walked in from the kitchen— still mid-yawn, coffee mug cradled in one hand, the other scrubbing at her eye with the heel of her palm.
And Aspen’s fingers went still against the sheet.
Jesus Christ.
She was wearing tiny, cotton sleep shorts that ended at the very top of her thighs, leaving Maddy’s legs on full display and a blush-pink tank top—spaghetti straps and thin fabric that hid nothing and was currently making two very small betrayals on behalf of the body underneath it because Bunny always ran the air conditioning too high.
Aspen’s eyes lingered before she forced her gaze to keep moving up.
Her hair was mussed, jaw relaxed, cheek lined with pillow creases. Adorable. She was devastatingly, inconveniently adorable. God, is this what it would be like to wake up next to her? Aspen wondered.
Then Maddy’s eyes landed on Aspen, and she stopped mid-step like someone hit pause on her.
And Aspen watched as every piece of Maddy’s defensive hardware loaded in sequence. Her eyes narrowed. Jaw set. Spine lengthened. Shoulders pulled back into the position they had been in last night.
“Oh.” Maddy frowned. “You’re early.”
Her voice was rougher than last night, sleep still sanding the edges of it. A shiver ran down Aspen’s spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the AC.
Aspen’s fingers frantically toyed with the corner of the fitted sheet. Folded it. Refolded it. Tucked it under the pad. Smoothed it. Smoothed it again.
“Yeah.” Aspen kept her eyes on the corner of the sheet. “Had a cancellation.”
“Right.” A beat. “I’ll just—” Maddy pointed vaguely at the stairs with the hand not holding the mug, a small, stiff motion.
Heat climbed the back of Aspen’s neck and flooded her cheeks. Thank God for her olive complexion.
Bunny hobbled back into the living room, wincing with each step as Maddy crossed the room towards the stairs with a pace that suggested she was trying to be casual and wasn’t quite managing it.
Her shoulders were a fraction too high, and the back of her neck was pink.
Unlike Aspen’s, Maddy’s porcelain skin hid nothing.
Aspen’s head tilted before she could stop it, tracking Maddy’s retreating form. Her gaze landed squarely on Maddy’s ass, which was barely being contained by the tiny sleep shorts as she padded up the stairs.
Bunny intentionally cleared her throat.
Aspen’s attention snapped back toward Bunny. She swallowed and cleared her own throat. “Ready?” She patted the treatment table, pulling her professional face back on and definitely not thinking about Maddy Sterling currently stripping off her pajamas upstairs. “Left side up.”