“Actually…” I begin.
How do I put a positive spin on this, the one thing I still feel so negatively about? The one thing I have not been able to achieve despite my greatest attempts? “The whole unit has been so supportive, and helpful. I see them often, but…”
I look at his eager face, not wanting to tell him that I still haven’t been cleared for duty. I’m sure he’ll ask how that can be the case, with all the progress I’ve made. And I really wouldn’t have an answer for him.
I hate not having the answers for everyone, but it’s part of the job. Just like when they ask me if their results will be the same as mine. Of course I try to be encouraging but no two patients are equal.
In fact, I don’t know of anyone who has had such a successful comeback as I have managed to have, and I don’t want to fill them with false hope. It’s a delicate balance to try to dispense the right amount of hope.
Dr. Davis swoops into the room and saves me from having to go into an awkward explanation of my current duty status.
“I’m glad you boys hit it off, but it’s time to wrap it up,” he says, and I’m annoyed at the paternal tone his voice takes on yet again. “There are pre-op duties to attend to.”
“Nice to have chatted with you…” I begin, but Jesse grabs my arm and won’t let go.
“Can you be there when I get out of surgery?” he asks.
It’s an odd request, and one I haven’t heard before. But I’ve certainly heard that tone before, and I know what it really means. What tough, strong soldiers are thinking but will not say. I’m scared. And lonely. Please stay by my side.
Dr. Davis is shaking his head, but I had already said “I’ll see what I can do” before I noticed. He frowns, but Jesse is happy. He squeezes my forearm.
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
Chapter 25
Before heading home for the day, I swing by Dr. Davis’ office.
“Harlow,” he says. “I’m glad you stopped by. Listen, don’t agree with patient requests without checking with me first. It’s not ideal for you to attend surgeries. They’re messy, and unsanitary. I’m sure you understand.”
I nod, but I don’t say anything. I guess it’s not really my call.
“Yes. But Doc, I wanted to let you know that my first physical therapy session went really well.”
“Did it?” he asks.
I almost detect a hint of surprise, or even anger, in his voice, but that would make no sense.
“Yes. I’m sure the… people… from the PT facility will talk to you about it soon,” I continue, visions of Whitney’s curves dashing through my mind, “but I just wanted to be the first to let you know. I think I passed all the initial tests and things are about to be more challenging.”
“That’s good.”
He looks down at a random file in his hand— probably belonging to Jesse, the airman to whom I’m just spoken— as if our conversation is over. But I can’t resist pressing just a little harder.
“Do you think if the next rounds of assessment go well, that I can get back in soon?” I ask, although what I really want to ask is when?
“Harlow, I wish I had better answers for you,” he says, his words reminding me of how I myself talked to Jesse just a little bit ago. “But, as I’ve said, it’s out of my hands. The military makes the call. The physical therapists have input at this point but I really don’t. I’ve explained my position to them and that’s that.”
He shrugs.
“I just hate having to jump through so many hoops,” I tell him. “This PT today…”—don’t think too hard about her, I will myself— “was having me do the most humiliating exercises. As if I was a little kid. And she was impressed, as if she hadn’t believed I could do them. It’s embarrassing, actually.”
“Don’t be a pussy,” Dr. Davis says, returning to the relaxed demeanor I’m more familiar with. “You can easily handle some uppity intern. Of course you impressed her. She was probably falling all over herself for such a hot stud. You were in the goddamn Special Ops for Christ’s sake.”
I am in the Special Ops, I want to correct him. I was, and I still am.
“But Harlow, just because you impressed a new intern doesn’t mean the military thinks you’re up to combat level. I’m just trying to be straight with you.”
I sigh, and nod. I have no idea what they want me to prove, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes.
Whitney was the first hurdle and it was easier than I thought to crack her resistance. Now to move on to where it really counts. Impressing the Powers That Be in the military, whoever they are.
And just who are they, anyway? I wonder. And how exactly do I go about impressing them?
I think about Jensen’s offer to have his lawyer- girlfriend Riley help me out.
“Is there some kind of an appeal board we could go talk to?” I ask him. “To see if they will just take your recommendation instead of putting me through all these ridiculous and unnecessary tests? Certainly they’ve all been impressed by your work and they know what kind of progress I’ve made. Maybe with a lawyer or something, they might see things differently.”
“Harlow, you don’t know how bad of an idea that is. You need to impress these people with your physical skills, not threaten them with some outside lawyer. As I’ve told you, the way to win is to have the physical therapists agree with my assessments and certification.”
“Okay. Yes, of course.”
I feel stupid for suggesting anything different. He has told me all of this before, but I guess that as usual I’m being pig- headed. Of course the threat of litigation is a bad idea. I was just pulling at any available straws, because I hate feeling this helpless.
“I’ll see how it goes with continued sessions with the intern, then,” I say, heading out of his office.
And of course I definitely mean that in more ways than one.
Chapter 26
Harlow pants as he finishes his timed run. When I pant, I look like an idiot and sound like a dog. But when Harlow pants, it’s sexy. Just like everything else that Harlow does.
“Good job!” I tell him, stopping the watch and making a note on his log. “You did it with plenty of time to spare. That was two miles in nine minutes, forty- one seconds.”
He trots over to me, with a goofy— yet still sexy, of course— smile on his face. It looks like he’s about to hug me, but he must think better of it at the last second, because he ends up just extending his hand for a high five. I give him one, enthusiastically, and then we kind of shake/ hold hands for a few seconds.
It’s awkward, but I don’t care. Harlow has a look in his eyes that says if I weren’t your physical therapy patient and we weren’t outside for everyone to see, we’d be celebrating with a victory fuck instead of a victory handshake.
Or maybe that’s just what I imagine he’s thinking. Or want him to be thinking.
“Hate to crash the victory party,” I hear Lance’s familiar voice say, and I quickly drop Harlow’s hand. “But I just came to check in on our hero’s progress.”
His tone is light but the usual wink isn’t in his eyes. I have a feeling he’s not happy with the level of chumminess between Harlow and me. I do my best to sound professional.
“Oh yes, of course,” I say.
I could kick myself for inviting Lance to observe this session, and then forgetting that I’d done that.
“Harlow continues to be passing all of his assessments with flying colors,” I continue. “His walking and running times are particularly good. That’s why we were just… uh… high- fiving each other.”
Thank goodness he didn’t go for the hug!
I hand my clipboard to Lance so that he can see the times I’ve noted.
“Really?” says Lance, looking at the latest time. “I would love to see that.”
“Sure,” says Harlow, and starts jogging back to the starting line on the track.
“Harlow, you don’t have to do it again…” I start
to protest, but he waves me off as if it’s no big deal.
He probably wants to do it again. He likes showing off. And yet, I’m afraid he won’t be able to repeat the performance and Lance will think I’m fudging the numbers in his favor. He clearly thinks we have some kind of romance going on.
I wish.
Harlow re- runs the two miles he’d just done, and this time he comes in even faster. I’m exhilarated for him all over again, but we don’t dare repeat our hive- five- slash- handshake.
“Wow, that really is something,” Lance says, visibly impressed.
He shakes his head.
“I know, right? Dr. Davis is going to be so happy to hear how his star patient has turned out. Should I change the time to this lower number?” I ask.
“We’ll just keep it how you have it,” Lance says, “Since that was the official one.”
“Okay.” I shrug, and then begin taking Harlow through the remainder of the assessments.
He has to walk and then jog around the track while kicking up his knees. And then while kicking his feet up behind him, to where they touch his lovely ass.
He does everything perfectly, and midway through Harlow’s exercises, while he’s still out on the track, Lance says, “Well, good to see everything’s checking out well.”
“I told you he’s just fine,” I tell him. “Isn’t it strange?”
“Yeah, I don’t know what to make of it.”
Lance pauses for a second and then resumes.
“I have a patient myself now that I have to go see, but good job with Harlow. Just make sure…”
“I know. No fraternizing with the patients.”
I’m embarrassed, but I want to make it clear that I get it.
“I don’t even care about that,” says Lance. “Normally. It’s just… he’s obviously a player and I know you’re on the rebound. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Awww. Isn’t that sweet.”
I smile at him.
“I know you’re a big girl and you can take care of yourself,” Lance says. “There’s just something about this guy that doesn’t quite add up.”
“I kind of understand what you mean,” I tell him, making sure that Harlow— who is on the other side of the track and deep into his leg kicks— is well out of earshot.
“You know better than anyone that I was initially very dubious about Harlow,” I confide. “But after spending time with him and seeing how he acts, I really think he’s genuine. I mean, you saw him when he was talking to that patient I was working with in the physical therapy session room when we first met him. He was so nice, and helpful, and not even boastful like Dr. Davis comes across.”
Lance just says, “Hrmph,” but he nods as if maybe I have a point.
“I don’t know. Maybe I was being too harsh on Dr. Davis, too, because I really thought something was up. I even thought they could be in on some kind of a… con… or something.”
I squint at Harlow and give him an enthusiastic wave, before I continue. “Like maybe they were pretending that Harlow was further advanced physically and mentally than he really is, or maybe it was all completely fake. But clearly the medical records show that this horrific thing happened, and it would be awfully hard for Harlow to pull off a sham about how far he’s come, on us. Maybe that’s why the military doubted Dr. Davis’ treatment, and want an independent professional to back him up?”
“Maybe,” says Lance.
He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He heads back to the office just as Harlow’s rounding the bend, finishing his exercise in good time. I try to remain in good spirits, since, aside from Lance’s visit and strange comments, everything has been going so well.
Chapter 27
“How’d the meeting with the Boss go?” Harlow asks, with a playful smile on his face.
“I think it went well,” I reply, although I’m not really sure.
Usually I feel that I know Lance very well, but right now he was just… mysterious. I try not to let it ruin the joyful mood.
“That’s great,” Harlow says, beaming. His brown eyes sparkle and I can’t stop staring at him. “Do I have any more exercises to do today, to demonstrate my perfect fitness?”
He makes a fake muscle— which is still really hot— and I laugh.
“Nope, you’re all done,” I tell him, returning his smile. “And I will make an appointment to talk to Dr. Davis. I think he should know how well you’re doing, and maybe he’ll want your treatment team to meet again, to re-assess.”
“Awesome!” He looks elated. “You mean I might get to have an even shorter treatment period than we originally planned?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
I don’t want to speak out of turn.
“I’m not really in charge of these things,” I continue. “But I don’t think the normal plan will be very beneficial to you since you’re already…”
“Abnormal?” he guesses.
“Very funny. There are definitely things we can work on, so don’t get too big of a head.” He winks at me as I continue. “There are some exercises and stretches I will give you, that you can do at home and that we’ll be working on here during sessions, to further improve your strength and balance and flexibility.”
“Yeah, I used to be so much more flexible,” he says, frowning. “I know I’m not completely back to 100% yet.”
It’s touching how concerned he is about any setbacks. Yet he’s still leaps and bounds ahead of most of my patients, and most people in general.
“But other than that, I don’t feel that you need that much work. We’ll see if Dr. Davis and the team agrees with me though. Please don’t forget, I’m just an intern. I’m the first step and then everything has to be cleared above my head.”
“That’s great, though, thank you,” he says, clearly excited.
He has an air of exuberance about him right now that’s absolutely contagious. I know he’s happy to hear that he’s that much closer to being back with his unit. And I have to admit I have my own reasons for being happy.
I finally dumped Tony, which I was beginning to think I could never do. I feel that things at this internship can only go well for me now that I’m working with Harlow. Sure, he’s the one putting forth the effort and the spectacular performance, but I’m the physical therapist assigned to train him.
I know that the exercises I’ve come up with will only help him improve even more, for which I’m sure I’ll get some credit. Maybe this will lead to a good-paying job immediately after graduation.
And even more than that… here I am standing face to face with the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. And he’s looking at me, smiling at me… no, absolutely beaming at me as if he’s just as happy to be standing here with me as I am to be with him. That doesn’t exactly happen to me every day.
“Let’s go celebrate,” Harlow says, out of nowhere. “Right now.”
“What?”
“I’ve had a great day. You’ve had a great day. Life is looking up. This calls for happy hour. Or dinner. Or whatever. You pick.”
“I… have more work to do,” I tell him, which is true.
He’s my last patient of the day but I have to get my charts and notes done, and go over everything with Lance and perhaps some other supervisors.
“Fine,” he says, shrugging. “I’ll pick you up later. What time do you get off?”
“I…” I hesitate. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
He looks crestfallen, which is how I feel.
So, without giving myself time to change my mind, I continue, “for you to pick me up here, I mean.”
“Oh. Of course. We’re probably not supposed to go out together. Even to celebrate your awesome physical therapy skills and my amazing progress, I mean.”
His face breaks into another smile: a devilish one, which is somehow even cuter than his exuberant one. I can’t help but smile back, even though I’m not really sure what the official policy is on…
fraternizing, with patients. Lance had said he didn’t care, but it’s something I normally wouldn’t do no matter how hot the guy was.
But then again, I’m never around hot guys who are interested in me. So it’s hard to know what I would do normally, except that right now, I know I just want to be near Harlow. And not in a physical therapy context.
“I can pick you up at your house,” he says. “Text me your address.”
I open my mouth, but he adds, “My phone number is in my file, I presume?”
Oh yes. Of course. I feel like an idiot.
“I could probably do five o’clock,” I tell him, mentally estimating the time it will take for me to finish my work and change into something much more attractive than my work uniform.
“Great, that gives us plenty of time before happy hour ends. But we can eat dinner too. Whatever you want.”
This time his smile is almost grateful, almost patient- like. Is this a date, or not? I can’t tell. And I can’t tell whether or not that’s a good or bad thing.
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
“Don’t forget to text me your address. Or else I’ll have to drive all around Albuquerque guessing what kind of place you might live in.”
I laugh.
“Don’t worry. I won’t forget.”
How could I?
He’s so damn hot. And he’s picking me up at five. I can’t even believe my luck.
Chapter 28
I pull up to Whitney’s apartment, located in what locals jokingly refer to as the “student ghetto.” She is still a student, after all, I remind myself, although it’s easy to forget.
I don’t know as many students who have their act together as well as she does. I certainly didn’t when I was her age. I wasn’t even a college student. Studying books wasn’t really my thing. My thing was more like climbing up mountains and jumping out of planes.
As soon as I knock on the door, she comes right out, wearing a mini skirt with some leggings, and a tight- fitting blouse.
Sold as a Fake Fiancee: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance Page 73
