“Sure.”
She pushed away from the stove and left the room, needing a few minutes in her room to compose herself. She shut the door and paced, her arms wrapped around her middle.
That hadn’t gone well.
This was ridiculous. She was a hands-on therapist and it was going to be impractical to dash out of the room every time she got within a few inches of Garrett.
Time to suck it up and deal, Alicia. You made this bed.
More like she’d unmade the bed.
She inhaled deeply then went back to the kitchen.
“Breakfast is ready,” he said.
“Great. Thanks.”
They filled their plates and ate in the dining room. Alicia was happy for the space between her and Garrett, though she knew that was only going to last as long as breakfast, because after that they had therapy. At least he seemed content to stop talking about what happened between them last night.
After they ate, she did the dishes. Garrett said he was going into the workout room to warm up, while she lingered a little too long over scrubbing the skillet.
She finally gave up. It was time to do some therapy, so she grabbed her notebook and headed into the workout room.
Garrett was on the bench press. She laid her notebook down and went over to him.
“You shouldn’t do these without me being here.”
He paid no attention to her, so she laid her fingers under the bar while he lifted the weight.
“This is a heavier weight than you normally lift.”
Again, he didn’t answer her, but he didn’t seem to be straining, so she let him go, but she still stood above him to spot him. He did twelve reps, and she helped rack the bar when he finished. He sat up and leaned over to take some deep breaths.
“How did that feel on your shoulder?”
“It felt fine.” He tilted his head back to look at her. “I’m not having any pain.”
“That’s good. But don’t add weight without consulting me.”
He arched a brow. “You think I don’t know what I can handle?”
“I think you have a therapist for a reason. How about you let me be the therapist, and you be the patient?”
“I think you laid out the ground rules about who was who in this relationship pretty clearly earlier,” he said. “I don’t need you to draw me a picture, Alicia. I got it.”
He stood and went to the pulleys, then waited for her. The room temperature seemed to have dropped about ten degrees, the chill between them evident.
Okay, she could deal with this.
When she came over and selected a weight, he said, “Your weights are too light. Add more.”
Now he was acting like a patient. A surly, frustrated athlete. That she could wrap her head around. That she could deal with. As long as she focused on Garrett as just another athlete, she could keep it impersonal.
She looked down at her notes and shifted the weight by five pounds. He tilted his head and gave her a look. “Come on, Alicia.”
“Start there. Do twelve.”
He blew out a breath and did twelve. Easily.
“See? No problem. Now add more.”
She added another five, and he did twelve more. Also without effort. She had him do two more sets, then came up behind him and felt his shoulder, digging in deeply to see if he tensed with pain.
He didn’t. That was a good sign, so she put him through a more rigorous workout, adjusting her notes as he went about the circuit. He was making drastic improvement, but she’d see how he felt at the end of the day. Pushing the muscles and tendons was one thing while he was doing the workout. It was the aftereffects that concerned her the most.
She really wanted him to pitch, however, he needed to rotate that arm. That was going to be the true test of whether he was going to get through this injury or not.
But she liked what she saw. And she wanted to see more.
After weights, she’d run him through his therapeutic exercises, pushing him harder than she had previously. He’d taken it without complaint. Then they’d each had a sandwich, sharing the kitchen space—not in an unfriendly way, but not in a particularly friendly way, either.
So after lunch, she said, “Let’s go pitch.”
The only reply she got to that was a shrug, followed by him walking away to get ready.
Distance was good, right? This was what she’d asked for.
On the drive over to the ballpark, he was silent. Okay, so some guys didn’t appreciate being dumped. Not that she was exactly dumping him since they were still going to see each other every day.
That was the problem with working together and sleeping together. It never worked out. Not that she’d ever slept with a colleague or, God forbid, a patient before. She’d always kept her work life separate from her personal life, vowing to never mix the two. She’d always figured that was one complication she didn’t need.