Page 44 of Opening Strain

When she doesn’t place the ice pack on my leg, I peer over at her. She’s studying my body, and I resist the urge to flex. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Right.” She shakes her head, causing her ponytail to swing. Her steps bring her next to me and she places the ice onto my thigh.

“Tsss,” I groan. “I’ll never get used to how cold this is.”

Jenna sets the timer. “Don’t be a baby—it’s good for you.”

“I’m not being a baby. This shit’s fucking cold.”Maybe I did sound a little whiny?

“I’ll be back soon. Should I turn on a lullaby for you?”

“No,” I retort. “Some Hunte would rock it.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” She changes the channel on Spotify. “Backdoor Clouds will have to do.”

Alone in the room, I listen to “Broken.” This song is sick,especially during the drum solo. Darren used to love this group, even getting tickets for him and Jenna at their New Year’s Eve concert in Colorado. I’m sure Jenna never knew about his obsession since the concert happened after he had passed.

Grabbing the UC pendant, I tuck my thoughts about Darren into it. This pendant holds all my secrets. About Mom. Dad. Lissa. Curtiss. I give it one more—while she’s off-limits, Jenna’s intriguing me. The song changes to one by Cole Manchester, and I get lost in “Taboo.”

Soon, Jenna returns and retrieves the ice pack. Should I bring up the elephant in the room? Her grey eyes focus on putting it away, on stopping the music, on adjusting her scrubs. Anywhere but on me.

I sit up and fix the bottom of my shorts.

Here goes. “Jenna, about what happened earlier?—”

“It was nothing. No big deal.”

She sounds so convincing I decide not to touch this subject again. “So you and your mother are going out tonight to celebrate your birthday, huh?”

“We are.” She pulls out her phone and checks the time.

“You know, I don’t have any dinner plans tonight. Or any night, really, while I’m here.” I force my eyes to look like a basset hound’s. Those dogs have the saddest eyes I know.

“You don’t? I’m sure you could make friends with anyone.”

How wrong she is. I don’t do friends. “People who don’t know me would only see the rock star. I don’t want to be him.” I pause. “Tonight.”

“The Huntes set you up in a wicked rental. I bet it has a kitchen.”

I lift my shoulder. “It does, smarty pants. I don’t want to eat alone, though.” I double down on my puppy dog eyes.

“Well, maybe I can ask my mother if she wouldn’t mind a rock star barging into our girl time.”

“Don’t put it that way. I may be a rock star when I’m on stage, but right now I’m just an injured guy. Interested in not eating alone.” Perhaps getting to know his physical therapist a bit better.Perhaps?

“Fine. I’ll ask if I can bring a stray patient with us.”

“I suppose that sounds better.”

She picks up her phone and walks into her office. Jenna Westfield is unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. She’s amazing as a physical therapist, yes, but it’s more than that. Something in her wounded soul calls out to me. Makes me feel seen. Adrenaline rushes through my bloodstream as if I were about to take the stage. As a distraction, I toss my T-shirt and sweatshirt over my head and pull the sweatpants over my shorts.

“So, it seems Ma has a soft spot.” Jenna walks into the room. “You’ve wrangled yourself an invitation to join us for my birthday celebration.”

I clap. “Can’t wait.”

“Hmmm,” she adjusts the strap of the messenger bag over her shoulder. “I’ll drop you off to change before heading home to do the same. I’ll pick Ma up and be back to your rental in an hour.”

I close her car door in front of my rental and wave as she drives away. Then it hits me. I’m going out for her birthday dinner—with her mother. I’m not prepared for this. What background do I have dealing with mothers? Mine certainly is not the standard bearer.

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