Page 34 of Opening Strain

“How bad?”

Through gritted teeth, I reply, “Ten.”

She rubs my back, which—shockingly—diverts my attention. Once the throbbing subsides, my breathing returns to normal.

“Better?”

I query my body. “I think so.”

“Great. Do it again.”

My eyes pop wide open. “Are you serious right now?”

She nods. “You have to work through this lateral pain. I know it hurts?—”

“Like a mother effer,” I supply, rubbing my thigh.

As if I hadn’t interrupted her, Jenna continues, “The only way you’re going to be able to get on the stage with a minimal amount of pain is to work through it now. Take it much more slowly this time. Don’t try to win a squat contest, but I need you to push yourself a little.”

Damn. The woman makes sense. Frowning, I rub my thigh. “No pain, no gain.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say it like that,” she corrects. “More like ‘no pain, no success.’”

I suck in my breath and focus on the task at hand. I can do this. I already know how bad it can be and I’m not revisiting. My leg slides out to the side. When I’m in position, I take my time in lowering toward the floor, moving my arms into a prayer posture at my chest. I raise to my full height with my arms sailing behind me, then use my leg to bring the towel to my other foot.

“How’d that feel?”

Through clenched teeth, I reply, “It hurt.” I exhale. “But not as badly.”

“Great. Think you can do it again?”

I concentrate and replicate the movements. “Pain’s about a seven,” I say without her asking.

“Much lower than the first time. I promise it’ll get less painful the more times you do it.”

“We’ll see,” I reply, heavy skepticism intended. My disbelief isdisproven by the fifth time I do the squat. “I’m at a five pain level,” I admit when I stand.

She blesses me with a gorgeous smile, causing my heart to do a somersault. Unaware of her effect on me, Jenna says, “Think you can finish up a set of ten?”

“I’ll try.” I take the slide and squats carefully, nothing like the first time I attempted to do it, and feel like a million bucks when I complete them all.

Jenna claps. “Fantastic, Bennett. Want to take a short break before doing this all over again?”

My ears must be clogged. “Again?”

She walks over to the fridge and retrieves a bottle of water. “Two sets.”

“Fuck me.” I accept the bottle of water and drink half of it down in one gulp. “Who knew doing a squat could be this difficult?”

She remains quiet, although the slight smirk on her face tells me all I need to know. I raise my eyebrow. “Enjoying my pain?”

“Not at all.” She sips her own water. “I’m thrilled at how much energy you’re putting into PT. I understand how difficult this can be, but know when you’re up on stage, you’ll thank yourself for doing it now.”

I finish the water and toss it into the garbage can. “I’m ready for round two.” Heart pounding, I step onto the mat and place my foot onto the towel. Exhaling, I begin the exercise again, and before I know it, I’ve reached ten repetitions. My pull is growling and grumbling, but I still made all the reps without stopping.

“I did it!” Arms high in the air, I pick up Jenna in my exuberance and spin around. For her part, my physical therapist throws her head back and laughs.

A knock sounds. “Excuse me, Miss Westfield?”

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