Page 76 of Opening Strain

The Asshole is here? No sooner than the thought enters my mind, than he saunters into the bedroom.Mybedroom.

“Hi there, Bennett. Jenna asked me to bring over all the equipment you need for your rehab.” He drops a barbell onto the floor. It thuds.

“Great,” I reply, focusing on my exercises rather than Jenna’s work colleague.

I don’t pay attention when he walks over to her side and looks over her shoulder at her paperwork.

Refuse to raise an eyebrow when he makes her laugh at some stupid comment.

Will myself not to rip his arm off his body when he touches her forearm.

It’s when he corrects me, I lose it. “Jenna’s my therapist. What she says goes,” I snarl.

Jenna leaves whatever she was doing and comes over to us. “What’s going on here?” She seems befuddled.

What’s going on is the Asshole is sniffing around you and you’re mine.Do Not Fucklist be damned.

“I was giving him some pointers on the exercise,” the Asshole whines.

“I was doing it the way you taught me,” I counter.

“Oh. Bennett, would you mind doing another rep for me?”

I do the most perfect rep in the history or reps. No one could do it better.

The Asshole leans closer to her. My grip on the kettlebell tightens. He says, “I told him he should flex his foot for a better result.”

Jenna turns her body to face his.I’m right here!She reaches back and fiddles with her ponytail holder. “Austin, Bennett has a groin pull. To rehab this muscle”—she points to my upper thigh—“we want to elongate it. Which means what?”

His head drops. “You point the toes.”

“Correct. Now I do understand why you were thinking he should flex his foot for mobility, but that’s not our priority at the moment with him.”

“Ah, I understand now.”

Wow. She’s both teaching him and not putting his initial thoughts down. What a concept. No wonder the Asshole is like a little dog, lapping her up. Hell, I don’t know much about physical therapy, but I’m getting a bit of a woody from how she handled him.

Jenna touches my leg. “Good job, Bennett.”

I resist the urge to smirk at him. Barely. “Thanks.”

“Now, I want to try a new exercise with you.” She shows me a balance training exercise, which I mimic. After a couple of minoradjustments, I’m good to go. She continues to explain the exercise to the Asshole.

She should be working with patients. She’s amazing at it. Or she could be a professor, given how she’s teaching him shit in a dignified manner. Not an administrator. I need to get to the bottom of the mystery of why she left something she was born to do.

I move on to the towel squats, adding the barbell this time. I concentrate on the movements, taking them one step at a time. While I may not be fast—yet—I’ve got this. Once all my exercises are complete, I lie on the bed for the ice pack cooldown; I smile to myself. Ice Cooldown. Maybe this could be a new song title?

From the doorway, Jenna bids the Asshole a good evening. Because I want to be sure he leaves the mansion and doesn’t hide somewhere to kill me in my sleep—or seduce her in hers—I suggest, “Why don’t you show him out, Jenna? This place is huge, and we don’t want Austin to get lost in here.”

“Good idea,” she replies. “Let’s walk you to the front door.”

“See you soon, Bennett,” the Asshole says.

Not if I can help it. I raise my hand. “Bye.” Look how nice I can be.

When I no longer hear their low voices, I concentrate on the ice pack on my thigh. I loathe being incapacitated in any way, and this is wearing on me. I want to climb a rock wall with the band in New York City. Take the stage without worry my groin pull will flare. Feeling helpless does not sit well with me.

Jenna returns to my room. Alone. She sits on the edge of the bed, too far away from me. “Tell me about your upcoming concert.”

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