Page 88 of Opening Strain

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ilean forward, slide my right foot out on a towel, lower to a squat with the twenty-kilo barbell. Austin walks around me in the basement gym, adjusting little things with my position and barking orders. Well, he is a professional after all—I’m sure he’d say what he’s doing is gentle corrections. Whatever. I want him the fuck out of my house.

Crap. I’m starting to think of Secluded Rest as my house.

“Ok, last time. Keep up the good work.”

This forced cheerfulness from Austin is the only bright spot of my exercises today. When I allow my mind to wander from PT, it immediately goes to Jenna. I hope the bank doesn’t turn her down because she wants another location so badly. At this rate, she’ll meet her goal of ten clinics in no time. And be farther away from me. I drop the barbell.

“Great job so far. Has Jenna worked with you on skater jumps yet?”

I chug water. Anything with the word “jump” in it makes me queasy. “No.”

Austin rubs his hands together. “No time like the present, considering how well you’ve mastered the other exercises.”

In addition to pursuing Jenna, this guy’s a sadist. Great. “What exactly do I have to do?”

“Let me show you.” He stands with his legs hip-width apart. “We’ll start out slow. Just step to the left side and bring your other leg behind you, swinging your left arm out to the side and your right in front of your torso. Then repeat on the other side. Eventually, you’ll work up to leaping from side to side.” He demonstrates a smooth leaping motion.

I know how to fucking jump, Asshole.

Part of me wants to dive right into the deep end and jump from foot to foot. The more pragmatic part of me screams it’s going to be impossible to do without aggravating my groin pull. Or worse. Set me back to the beginning.

“I’m not sure. Jenna hasn’t gone over this with me.”

“All right. You don’t have to try this advanced exercise yet. It’s the next level you’ll have to do when you’re ready to progress in your therapy. Guess she doesn’t think you’re ready for it yet. My bad.”

Oh hell no. No way am I letting some sniveling, scrawny guy who has the hots for my woman talk down to me this way.My woman? Hell, yes she is! I draw up to my full height. “I’m sure I can do it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” I stand with my legs apart.

“Remember, do not jump. You only want to step side to side. Take it slow.” He demonstrates what he means.

“Slow,” I repeat. Part of me wants to rip off the band aid and leap, but I clamp that part down. Doing it slowly will be better than reinjuring myself.

I step to the left and tap my right foot behind, while swinging my arms. My groin twinges in warning. I purse my lips and step out right and tap my left foot behind, which causes the familiar—all too painful—throbbing in my pulled muscle. “Fuck!” I grab my thigh.

Austin rushes to my side. “You did the steps correctly and slowly. I’m surprised it hurts this much.”

“Maybe why Jenna hasn’t done them with me,” I grit out over my panting.

He directs me to a chair. “I’ll get an ice pack.” Asshole disappears to the downstairs bar area while I stretch out my leg onto the overstuffed ottoman, massaging the knotted muscle.

By the time he reappears, my breathing is under control. My anger, however, is not.

“Put this over it, the ice will relax the muscle.”

I grumble, “Like I didn’t already know this after two weeks of dealing with this injury.” I put the numbing baggie of ice over my thigh.

“You were making so much progress, I really thought you were ready for skater jumps.” He runs his palm over his forehead. “I wanted to be able to show off your progress to Jenna.”

“What progress?”

The woman of the hour saunters into the basement wearing a navy-blue suit with a white blouse my fingers itch to unbutton. Not to mention her navy fuck-me pumps have to add another four inches to her height.

“Jenna!” The Asshole joins her at her side. “How did it go with the bank?”

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