by Krista Lakes
Oliver lifted his gaze to meet hers. His clear blue eyes caused her feet to melt to the floor. She felt magnetized toward him, a pull which she forced herself to ignore. He was her patient. She picked up her clipboard and pretended to write something just to break the connection.
“If you say so, Doc,” he finally said with a sigh.
Elsie looked up and smiled and Ollie slowly returned the gesture. He was so obviously down about the whole thing. He put on a brave face, but she knew how scary an injury like this could be for an athlete. This jeopardized his whole world, and he was doing his best to smile through it. It broke her heart.
“I do say so,” she said, patting his knee gently. “I'd tell you if you were sucking. That's actually an important part of my job. I won't sugar coat anything. You can count on that.”
“You sound like Coach,” Ollie said, taking another swig of water.
Elsie chuckled. “I like your coach already.” She jotted a few notes down on her clipboard about the day's session. “Sounds like he and I think the same way.”
“Yeah, but he'd say it with an angry sneer,” he said, with a chuckle.
Elsie twisted her mouth and narrowed her eyes, looking up from her clipboard. With her voice lowered as much as possible, she growled, “You're doing a great job. Now hit the showers, kid!”
For the first time that day, Ollie let out a genuine laugh. He cracked up for a full minute, which put a smile on Elsie's face. Hearing him laugh was the best part of her day.
“If I didn't know better, I'd say you do a better Coach than Coach does.” Ollie said, wiping tears of laughter from his cheek.
“You know, I do help coach little league in the fall for the local elementary school,” she said, beaming with pride. “That's probably where I picked it up.”
“What sport do you coach?” he asked, eyes widening and ears perking.
“Football, actually,” she replied, with a laugh. “I love it. There's nothing more satisfying, or hilarious, than watching 6-year-olds run around in those pads.”
“That's awesome. You probably know more about football than you've let on.” Ollie's eyes were still locked with Elsie's. “Who roped you into coaching kid's football, anyway?”
“My oldest sister,” Elsie admitted. “Her son is on the team and they needed a coach. It worked out great, though, because it gave me a chance to hang out with my little nephew.”
“So let me get this straight,” Ollie said, scooting to the edge of the table. “You coach football, yet you had never heard of me before we met last week?”
Elsie shrugged. “I like football a lot, I just don't have any time to watch it. I haven't been able to be a real fan since I took over the physical therapy clinic from my uncle. There's just too much work for me to do and not enough time to watch the games.”
“When was the last game you watched?” he asked. “Any from last season?”
“I wish,” she said, shaking her head. “You're going to laugh, but I haven't watched a professional game in three years. No, wait... four years.”
“You're kidding,” he said, eyes wide with surprise. “You haven't been to a game in four years?”
“Been? I've actually never been to a professional game,” she said, pushing her hair over her ear and biting her lower lip. “We don't have a professional football team in Iowa and I couldn't afford a ticket in grad school.”
“That would make it more difficult to go to a game,” Ollie admitted.
“I used to watch all the games on TV while I was growing up, and I loved going to college games,” Elsie explained. She leaned against the massage table across from Ollie and shrugged. “But once I graduated, I just couldn't find the time.”
“You've missed out on a lot of good games.” Ollie looked up at the ceiling, as though recalling great memories from his past. “I wish you had been able to keep up on the sport. It's come a long ways.”
“I hope to get back into sometime. I used to love my Sunday afternoons cheering at the screen. Maybe things will slow down for me one day,” she said. “But I promise, I'll watch a game once you're playing again.”
“I'd love for that to happen.” Ollie looked down at the ground, an expression of sadness written all over his face as he remembered what he was facing. “Let's hope I'm playing again and you can watch me next year.”
“Hey, we'll get you there, Ollie,” she said, sounding sure of herself. “The two of us are a team now and we'll work together. I've got your back.”
His eyes lit up and he reached forward, placing his hand over hers. His touch sent a pleasurable chill through her. She liked it, a lot more than she cared to admit.
No, Elsie. No, she thought. Sure, he's cute and he's got a great story, but he's your patient. That's all.
Slowly, she pulled her hand away and picked up her pen. Then she pretended to jot some notes down on her paper.
“I appreciate all that you're doing for me,” he said, after a few moments of pause. “Truly, it feels good knowing you're on my side. I was hopeless when I woke up in that hospital. But you've really made me feel like there's a chance I can pull through this thing.”
Warmth spread through her chest and she couldn't stop the smile on her face.
“Thank you. Just don't get down about it,” she said, placing a hand onto his shoulder. “Stay positive and keep the same 'work hard' attitude that brought you into your career in the first place.”
“That's some very sound advice,” he replied. “You sure you're not related to Coach?”
She chuckled.
“I hope you take it to heart,” she said, her lips curling up into a wide smile. “Anyway, that's it for today. Keep yourself comfortable tonight and don't be afraid to put ice on that knee. You know the drill.”
“I do.” Ollie nodded.
Elsie grabbed her clipboard and purse, but then paused. The session was over, but she didn't really want to leave. She was having a nice time. There was a great connection between them and it made for smooth and relaxing conversation. It had been a while since she had been able to enjoy that with someone. Still, though, she feared if she stayed much longer than she would wear out her welcome.
“You have my phone number if you need anything,” she said, turning toward the door and mentally telling herself it was time to go.
“That I do.” Oliver grabbed his crutches and eased himself back down to the floor. “And you have mine. Which is good, that way if I do call you, you won't think it's some crazy spam caller or something.”
She grinned at his comment, but couldn't think of anything else to add. The session was over and it was time for her to leave, even though she was having a nice time.
“Okay, I'll see you Friday,” she finally said, and started walking toward the front door.
Just as she touched the doorknob, she heard Ollie call out, “I'm looking forward to it.”
Elsie grinned and stepped outside into the icy air.
It almost feels like a date, she thought.
She liked the idea of that, but also feared the implications. Combining her professional world with her personal was never a good idea. They'd gone over that plenty of times in school and she'd seen coworkers get in trouble with patients.
But she couldn't get rid of that feeling of attraction toward Ollie. It wasn't about his good looks or money, either. It was something different. Maybe it was his playful personality or how he made her feel important. Whatever it was, she couldn't get him off of her mind. And Friday couldn't come soon enough.
Chapter 6
Ollie
Oliver was laying on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He was on the floor of the makeshift gym in his temporary home and Elsie was standing nearby, counting out his movements. He was in pain and beyond exhausted. A part of him felt like passing out would be a better alternative than staying conscious, but there was no way that Elsie would let him quit. He loved that about her.
“How is this so hard?” he asked, through gritted teet
h. “I'm hardly doing anything. This shouldn't be so difficult.”
“Just keep going until I tell you to stop,” Elsie said.
She was wearing her lime-green scrubs again and Ollie couldn't help but to take a peek at her backside every chance he got. She looked really good and the weeks of therapy with her had created feelings toward her. He knew there was a deeper connection than just the doctor/patient one. There was something there that was undeniable and he wondered if she'd noticed it too.
“Come on, Ollie,” she said, crouching down next to him on the floor. Her brown eyes were warm and encouraging. “Just thirty more seconds and you can take a break.”
He pressed the back of his head into the padded floor mat and clenched his jaw. Then he focused on the movement, which was very basic. All he had to do was straighten out his right leg and then slowly lift it up to a vertical position. Then, after holding it there for three seconds, he was to bring it back down and start all over. He'd been doing it for a while, though, and combined with the bicycling and weights they'd already done, he was beat.
“How many more seconds now?” he asked.
She gave him a half smile and looked at her watch. “Twenty-five.”
I've done much harder workouts than this, he thought. Coach has put us through drills that would make a normal man puke. How is it that I've survived that, but somehow this physical therapy is killing me? I'm sweating like I've been running stairs while wearing a weight belt at altitude.
Oliver wasn't one to quit, though, so he pushed through until Elsie finally told him to stop. He drew in a breath of relief and relaxed his entire body. His knee was throbbing and his sweat-soaked skin felt cool as the fan across the room blew air toward him.
“This is harder than it should be,” he said, not looking at Elsie and just staring at the ceiling. He hated this feeling. “I feel so weak right now. It's frustrating.”
“It's hard because you're healing,” she replied, jotting some things down on her clipboard. “Be kind to yourself, Ollie. You're doing great.”
“Sure, Doc,” he said, shaking his head. “Whatever you say.”
In the matter of a few weeks, Oliver had gone from being at the top of his game to the very bottom. He'd gone from throwing touchdown passes in a championship game to writhing on the floor in agony and unable to walk without the help of crutches. It made him feel like a cripple.
How in the hell am I going to take my team to a single victory next season if I can hardly even move my damn leg? he thought, as he pushed himself up to a seated position on the floor and leaned against the wall.
Deep frustration bubbled up in his stomach. And below that, despair tried to creep in, but he was too frustrated to let it make its appearance. Despair would have its chance to rear its ugly head when he was alone later that night.
Yeah, that's when I can fully feel bad for myself, he thought, still wincing in pain. When I'm hungry and it hurts too much to make it to the microwave, so I just drink protein shakes instead. That'll be a great time for self-loathing. The same damn thing I've been doing every night for two weeks now.
Elsie was looking at him and her stare caught his attention. Her dark, caring eyes locked with his and for a fleeting moment, he felt a tiny bit better. Just having her in front of him made him feel that all was not lost and that there was still a chance that good could come from this whole thing.
“I can tell you're upset,” she said, taking a seat next to him against the wall. She stretched out her long legs in front of her. “But I'm not lying when I tell you that you're doing a great job. It's only been two weeks since your surgery. You shouldn't expect to be in peak condition quite yet.”
Oliver harrumphed.
“When I was in my residency, I helped treat a professional football player who had an ACL tear just like yours,” she told him. “He injured himself in January and we had him back on the starting lineup in September. His team won the championship game that year.”
Oliver looked over and their eyes met. She had the most beautiful, caring eyes he'd ever seen.
“Why are you just now telling me this?” he asked. Nikki had said something about Elsie's credentials so the story sounded familiar, but he hadn't paid much attention at the time.
“Because when we first starting working together, I wasn't sure how quickly you'd progress,” she explained. “I didn't want you to think we could have you up and running in just a couple of months, just in case it wasn't feasible.”
“Does it seem feasible now?” Oliver turned to face her, sitting in a weird semi-cross-legged position, which felt better on his knee.
“Let's just say that you're doing better than that particular patient was at this point,” she said, patting his hand and smiling. “Keep it up. You're doing great.”
“That's good to hear,” he said, slowly massaging the tender tissue around his knee. “Believe it or not, I think actually know the guy you're talking about. He was one of my favorite players before I went professional. Addison Lamone, played for Denver, right? The guy is a legend.”
“I cannot confirm or deny that he's the patient I was talking about,” she said, putting on a serious face. “I'm not allowed to divulge any information about previous or current patients.”
“I have to respect that,” he replied, liking that she smiled at him.
She re-positioned herself against the wall, crossing her legs at the ankle. The soft scent of her shampoo hit him. She smelled amazing. Like roses. He tried not to think about it. She was off limits.
“Ollie, you mentioned you have a brother,” Elsie said, staring through him. Her dark eyes looked evaluating and concerned. “Tell me about him.”
Ollie raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. He still wasn't used to interacting with someone who didn't already know every detail about his life. “What would you like to know?”
“Only what you want to share with me,” she said, turning to face him and tucking her legs underneath her. “I can tell that you're feeling down right now. You sounded really proud of your brother the other day, so I thought it might lift your spirits to talk about him. It'll give you something to focus on that's positive, rather than how difficult your recovery is and how you feel like you're never going to walk again, let alone run, jump and play.”
Oliver's face softened.
This girl can read me like a book, he thought. That's the perfect subject to distract me from my current situation.
“His name is Michael,” he said, feeling his lips curl up into a smile. “He's finishing his senior year at college and has already been accepted into Harvard's medical school. He's going to be a doctor.”
Pride washed over Oliver. He knew that he was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn't help it. He was so proud of his little brother. In fact, he was more proud of Michael's success than he was of his own.
“That's wonderful, Ollie,” Elsie said, her response so genuine that it caused goose bumps to pop up on Oliver's skin. “It takes a lot of hard work and a special kind of person to be a doctor. And Harvard... wow!”
“He's going to be amazing,” Ollie said. “He's really passionate about it and has a knack for making people feel better.”
“That's fantastic,” she replied, slowly standing up from the floor. “Keep talking while I help you stand. We're going to go to the leg extension machine and do some reps to keep the blood flowing to your injury.”
“I was really hoping that we were done for the day.” Oliver flashed a hopeful smile as he took Elsie's hands and she helped him up.
“Not quite,” she said, wrapping an arm around his waist to help steady him. “Soon, though. One more exercise to get through.”
Oliver had his arm over Elsie's shoulder, letting her help carry some of his weight. They made it to the leg extension machine and he took a seat, putting his leg in the position to use the weights. She'd put him through this exercise before and it was even less fun than the one he had just finished.
“I'm
going to set it at a low weight,” she said. He had a feeling it would still feel like a million pounds.
“Now, keep telling me about your brother,” she continued, making sure to smile at him. She had a great smile. “Does he play any sports? Is he an athlete like you?”
“No,” Oliver said, abruptly. There was a hint of anger in his voice that surprised him, even after all this time.
“No?” Elsie said, looking up to meet his gaze. Her delicate dark brows were raised.
“No, but he should have,” he said, trying to concentrate on the motion of his leg as his mind went to the past. “He was a better runner than I ever was. Kid had speed. And, if a sport had a ball, he could play it and be the best at it. A natural athlete in every way.”
“What happened?” she asked, with a concerned expression.
The memory washed over Oliver, filling his mind and body with emotion. He could still see it like it was yesterday down to the way the grass was cut.
“It was my rookie year playing for the Bandits,” Ollie said. “It was game four. My mom and brother attended all of my home games, but couldn't they make this one because Michael had a doctor's appointment. He'd been feeling sick for a while, and the doctors wanted to run some tests. My mom wasn't sure what was wrong with him, but she was worried. Even I knew something wasn't right.”
He paused for a moment, remembering it like it in real time. The way the bench felt, the sound of the crowd behind him, the feel of his phone hidden in his pocket as he waited for updates.
“I should have gone to the doctor's with them,” he said, shaking his head. “It still eats me up that I wasn't there. I spent the entire game on the bench, not even playing, while my little brother was at the doctor.”
“What happened?” Elsie asked, worry creasing her brow. A strand of hair fell in her eyes, but she didn't notice it. He thought about reaching out and moving it for her, but he stayed still.
“Cancer,” he stated, the word causing him to wince at the pain of the memory. “He was only twelve. He wanted to be the next Jordan or Babe Ruth, but that all came to a crashing halt when he got sick. He could have done it, too. He could have been a pro. He was better than me.”
