Page 3 of The History Between Us

About a dozen inappropriate jokes and comments zip through my mind, but I manage to keep them to myself. Based on his narrowed eyes and the hard set of his mouth, I’m willing to bet he’s not in the mood to joke with me about our drunken tryst two years back.

“That is correct. I’ve taken over the practice in my father’s absence,” he states matter-of-factly before using his key card to unlock the computer. “Now, tell me, Colt. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” I huff plainly, not bothering to sugarcoat it. This week has been hell. Between the shoulder reconstruction surgery to fix the torn labrum and rotator cuffs, the fracture in my wrist, and the cracked ribs I walked away with after I was bucked off the back of a bull, and then stepped on by saidbull, the rest of my year is looking a whole lot different than I thought it would. Being a professional bull rider, it comes with the territory. We all know it’s a risk, but nobody ever thinks it’ll be them.

Lifting a brow, he glances over at me. “A lot of pain?”

I shake my head. “Not too bad. I’ve been doing the exercises the physical therapist at the hospital told me to do. You know, to help with stiffness and mobility and all that. It kind of hurts during that, but she said that was to be expected for at least a few weeks.”

“Any swelling?”

“Not much,” I say. “I’ve been taking the anti-inflammatories they gave me. How soon can I start physical therapy?”

William raises off his chair and walks over to me, gesturing to my shoulder. “Do you mind if I take a look at it?” he asks, ignoring my question.

“Go for it.” I shimmy my arm out of the gown the nurse made me put on, wincing and gritting my teeth as a bolt of pain radiates through my limb.

Stepping into my space, his eyes flick to meet mine for a brief moment before he directs his attention to my incision. A faint mahogany scent reaches my senses, and it makes my heart race a little faster. It’s a good smell all on its own, but accompanied by the memories that come along with it make it even more delicious. That night is the very last thing I should be thinking about, especially in this setting, but I can’t help it. Especially when he’s looking the way he does, all professional and serious.

His facial structure is unreal. I allow myself a moment to admire him while he’s preoccupied. There’s a furrow to his dark, thick brows as he examines my shoulder, elbow, and wristwith the utmost gentleness. A beauty mark sits below his right eye next to his prominent Grecian nose. His strong jawline is hidden beneath an impressive short, thick beard that’s well on its way to being more salt and pepper than just pepper. He’s in his mid-forties, but I don’t know his exact age, only that he wears it well. William is a strikingly handsome man, and he always has been. If anything, he’s aged like fine wine.

“Let me see your range of motion,” he mutters, crossing an arm over his chest and resting his elbow on it as he rubs along his jaw with his thumb and forefinger.

I grit my teeth, showing him the small exercises I’ve been doing every day since leaving the hospital. It’s not much, but I know it’s helping in the long run. I’m ready for more, though.

“Good,” he grunts, then resumes his seat in front of the computer. “That’s looking great, Colt.”

“When can I start physical therapy?” I ask again, firmer this time, as I readjust the gown to cover my shoulder again. “I know I’m already out the rest of this season, but I’d like to get back to it by the spring.”

William’s expression hardens. “Colt, this is going to be a process. It takes time to get back to full mobility. Rushing or overexerting yourself can make things worse. This is a marathon, not a sprint, and I need you to understand that.”

“I do understand that.”

He nods. “I think you’d be okay to start physical therapy right away. There’s a physical therapist who is based out of Cheyenne, but once a week, she comes down and she works in this building. I’ll send over a referral, and if she has openings here, great, but please keep in mind, you may have to travel to Cheyenne if not.”

“Noted,” I quip.

“Wonderful.” Standing up, he walks over to the door. “I’ll get that sent through today, so you should hear from her office this week. I’d like to see you back here in four weeks to check your progress.”

“You got it, Doc.” A smirk spreads on my lips as I toss him a wink. “I’ll be the perfect patient.”

His lips purse. “I’ll be the judge of that.” With a quick check of the time on his watch, he adds, “Four weeks, Colt. In the meantime, do what the physical therapist says. Wear your sling, no heavy lifting, and no activities that force your elbow away from or in front of your body.”

Arching a brow, I say, “No activities in front of my body, huh?”

William looks at me, deadpan, and reaches for the doorknob. “Goodbye, Colt.”

Well, this could be fun.

2

William Andino, A Year and a Half Ago

Raising my fist to the large door, I knock, waiting a few moments before it’s pulled open. The bright, smiling face of my best friend’s wife comes into view as she pulls me in for a hug.

“Will, hi! I’m so glad you were able to make it; it’s been so long since we’ve seen you.”

“Hi, Trish,” I greet as we pull apart and she steps aside, letting me waltz into their beautiful, welcoming home. Notes of cinnamon and nutmeg reach my nostrils, paired with the scent of the turkey surely cooking in the oven. My stomach grumbles, and I inhale a little deeper, loving the warm, comforting smells.

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