Page 21 of Opening Strain

“Did you bring workout clothes?”

“I did.” I hold up my duffle.

“Great. I’ll show you where you can change. If it were warmer out, I’d say you could come already dressed, but Mother Nature’s being a tad picky lately.”

Dang. Has to be a record for her stringing the most wordstogether. Since no response is required, I slip into the changing room. I soon return to the main area in my grey sweats and a Hunte T-shirt. Felt it was appropriate, given my dinner companion last night.

Jenna begins, “I got your doctor’s report. Have to say I was shocked at the stage three diagnosis, but we’ll get you fixed up in no time.”Damn well better.

She asks me some questions about how much I iced it, my general fitness level, and current pain level. “It doesn’t hurt all the time,” I reply. “When I move a certain way or put too much weight on it, I’d say I’m around an eight. If I’m resting, I’d give it a three or four.”

She nods and takes notes. “All right, we’re going to start off today with an objective movement exam that will test the strength and range of motion of your groin muscles so I can develop the best protocol for your recovery.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Jenna doesn’t react to my dry tone, merely points to the examination table. “Lie down on this and we’ll get started.”

With precise movements, I sit on the table, my legs dangling. “I’m usually the one putting a lady in this position.”

She steps back and rubs her arms. “Lie down.”

Geez. I thought Darren said she had a sense of humor? I remember enjoying our first—and only in-depth—conversation. Seems like theGodfathermovies are no longer on her radar. My back contacts the table.

“Good. Now put the ankle of your good leg against your knee.” When I follow her instructions, she continues, “I’m going to stabilize your hip and push down on your knee. Since this is your good leg, I’m hoping you don’t have any pain or strain. Let me know if you do.”

What does she mean bystabilize?

Instead of asking, I follow her instructions. One of her hands holds onto my hip. Her other hand pushes against my knee, which moves quite far. She releases my legs. “Any pain?”

“Nope. All good.” I catch my bottom lip between my teeth, willing my body not to respond to her touch. The fact she’s about toinflict pain—and gave me a wrong diagnosis to start—are all the deterrents I need. “Are you going to push as hard against my bad leg?”

She shakes her head. “No. I wanted to get a baseline. I’ll go easy on your injured leg.”

Relieved by her words, I position the ankle of my bad leg against the opposite knee. Her hand lands on my other hip bone while she takes her time in lightly pressing against my knee. She doesn’t have to go far before I’m sucking in air like a guppy.

“How bad?” She returns my leg to a straight position.

My heartrate beats faster than if I were running a 5k. “Ten.”

Her ponytail swings. “I’m sorry, Bennett. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I need to know what I’m working with here.”

She seems to really mean what she’s saying.“I get it. I’ll deal with whatever pain you inflict if it means I’ll be ready for our opening date.”

“It’s not going to be easy, and I’m not making any promises. But I will work hard to get you there.”

I can welcome pain if it equals getting over this injury. Plus, it’ll keep my mind on recovery rather than the woman in charge of my physical therapy, who’s been touching my hips and knees with strong yet surprisingly supple hands. Ones that would feel amazing on other parts of my anatomy.Stop it, Bennett! You’re only here to get therapy.

Jenna pulls my Hunte T-shirt up.Whoa. All the time at the gym was worth it for my cut abs, which she doesn’t appear to notice at all. Instead, she positions my good leg at a ninety-degree angle and puts her hand on my knee. “Now, push hard against my hand. Again, I’m going to compare your two legs.”

I push against her hand without any problem, already knowing the other side is going to hurt like a bitch. When she tells me to do it again on my bad side, I clench my teeth and push. Tears spring to my eyes as pain floods my system. Within seconds, she jumps backward and writes something on the paper on her clipboard as I concentrate on breathing through my nose and out my mouth.

When my breath evens, she explains, “I’m going to do what isknown as ‘palpation.’ All it means is I’m going to press on various areas in each of your legs and compare them.”

Let this be over soon so I can crawl into a corner and cry like a little girl.“Go ahead.”

“All you need to do is lie still.” Keeping my shirt lifted, her hand touches my good leg, digging deep into the tendons and muscles in my thigh. I focus on anything to keep my lower appendage well, low. She moves to my bad side.

“If you wanted to get in my pants, there are much easier ways,” I joke.

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