She offered a consolatory smile and gestured for him to get onto the treatment table. She grabbed the handles of his chair while he flipped up the footplates and lowered his feet to the ground. He then pushed up, his upper body straining as he transferred his weight through his arms.
Brie hovered nearby, her hands outstretched, ready to guide – or catch him – as necessary.
“I’ve got it,” he barked, shifting one hand to the table as his feet dragged along the ground.
Startled by his acerbic tone, Brie moved the chair to the corner of the room. She knew things had been rough for him - she couldn’t even imagine going through what he had – but she was thrown off guard by his prickly response. He couldn’t make it any more obvious that he didn’t want to be there, which was just going to make her job that little bit harder.
Brie had treated many clients over the years who were in denial about their injuries, angry at the world, and looking for someone to blame for their situation. But she usually developed a good rapport with them, showing an interest in their lives to take their minds off their circumstances. The treatment sessions provided a safe space for people to open up, and it was a privilege to be entrusted with a glimpse into their lives. But red flags were already flying. Matt Dallimore wasn’t going to be like her other clients. It wasn’t just a wall he’d erected around himself. He had barbed wire, razor blades, and a sign warning people toKeep out, or else!
Brie knew he was hurting - physically and emotionally. She didn’t need a psychology degree to figure that out. And she knew not to take his gruffness personally. Experience had taught her the art of showing empathy to her clients and keeping her personal feelings out of it. Still, Matt’s defensiveness and aloofness surprised her. From interviews she’d witnessed over the years, he’d always appeared affable. Humble. A darling of the media. Perhaps it had all been for show, a different façade for the world to see, because he was certainly not behaving like Mr. Nice Guy now.
Brie took a moment to compose herself before beginning the therapy regime. She would not be put off by his abrasive demeanour; she was here to do a job. Rolling up the legs of his sweats, she paused, horrified by the puckered skin greeting her. Ugly red scars knotted around his atrophied legs. Shiny pink craters were all that was left of what had once been pure muscle. Her stomach plummeted as she began Matt’s stretches. It was heartbreaking to see such mangled remains of champion limbs. She schooled her features, lest he think she was appalled. He’d probably endured enough judgement, hushed remarks, and looks of disgust from people, whether intentional or not, to last a lifetime and she didn’t want to contribute to any insecurities he might have.
Ignoring the state of his legs, she attempted to make small talk. There was barely a crack in his handsome façade as Brie chatted away, but she may as well have been talking to a brick wall given his disinterest and limited responses .
“I’m doing a coffee run. Can I get you one, Brie?” Vicky called from the other side of the curtain a few moments later.
“Sure, thanks. The one on my desk has gone cold,” Brie replied, thankful for the distraction. “I certainly need another one today after my four hours’ sleep last night.” She redirected the conversation to Matt. “We had to rescue a climber from Mt Pullman.”
“Rescue?” His eyebrows lifted.
Ha! That got his interest.“I volunteer with the local search and rescue. Unfortunately, it’s not the first time we’ve had to rescue Bear Grylls wannabes from the side of a mountain.”
“Oh.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and Brie mentally high-fived herself for eliciting a response. It was the smallest of victories, but she’d take the win, nonetheless.
The rest of the session continued in the same manner. Brie chattering on about random topics, and Matt lying on the table grimacing through his treatment.
Finally, the half-hour session finished. Brie released a sigh of relief as Matt returned to his chair and wheeled out to the waiting room. What an intense thirty minutes. Caught between her nerves at treating someone of his caliber, and trying to maintain a one-sided conversation, she was spent. Where was Vicky? She really needed that coffee. Hopefully Martin would be back in the next day or so to look after his usual clients. She didn’t know if she could endure another painstaking session with the champion athlete. One-sided conversations when dealing with a celebrity crush were only good when … well, never.