Page 78 of Check & Chase
As I slide into the passenger seat, I wonder what tomorrow will bring. What truths will emerge when we finally stop pretending, stop hiding behind the convenient fiction we’ve created.
And whether, when all is said and done, my heart will survive the collision.
Chase
Chapter Fifteen
“That’s twenty in a row.” I set down the resistance band, fighting a grin. “Barely even felt it.”
Emma scratches something on her clipboard without looking up. “The goal isn’t to rush through the reps, Chase. It’s to maintain proper form.”
“My form was perfect. You’re just too stubborn to admit I’m ahead of schedule.”
She glances up, green eyes narrowed though I catch the smile she’s hiding. “Your MCL tear was severe. There’s no ‘ahead of schedule’ with this injury.”
“Then explain this.” I lift my injured leg and bend it to ninety degrees with minimal pain. A far cry from where I was weeks ago.
Her professional mask slips as she watches, surprise flickering across her face. “That’s… better than I expected.”
She moves closer, fingers testing my knee for swelling and stability. I’ve gotten used to her touch during these sessions, but it still hits me every time. Not because of the injury. Because it’s her.
“The inflammation has decreased significantly,” she murmurs. “And the stability is improving. You’ve been following the protocol?”
“To the letter. Ice, elevation, the whole boring routine.”
What I don’t mention are the additional exercises I’ve been doing at home—carefully selected from sports medicine journals. Nothing that would jeopardize my recovery. Just enough to accelerate it without Emma catching on.
She sits back, studying me with the critical eye of someone who knows she’s not getting the full story. “You’re doing something you’re not telling me about.”
Busted.
I shrug, aiming for innocent. “Just taking my recovery seriously. Isn’t that what you’ve been nagging me to do?”
“I don’t nag. I provide evidence-based medical guidance that you consistently ignore.”
“Not this time. I’ve been a model patient.”
“A model patient would tell his physical therapist everything. What aren’t you telling me, Chase?”
Something about Emma makes me want to be honest, even when it might earn me a lecture. “I might have added a few extra exercises. Nothing crazy. Just some strengthening work I found in the Journal of Sports Medicine.”
To my surprise, she doesn’t immediately shut me down. “Show me.”
I demonstrate the exercises, making sure to show how I’ve modified them. She watches closely, occasionally adjusting my positioning.
“These aren’t terrible choices,” she concedes. “But you should have consulted me first.”
“Would you have approved them?”
“Probably not. I prefer a more conservative approach.”
“Which is why I didn’t ask. Sometimes it’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”
“Is that your life philosophy?”
“Only when dealing with stubborn physical therapists who underestimate my healing abilities.”
Emma rolls her eyes but makes notes in my chart. Four weeks into recovery, and I’m already transitioning from one crutch to occasionally walking unassisted.
