even he no longer found funny, Natalie lifted his right leg and extended it from the knee until it was nearly straight. He couldn’t help but smile at the amount of effort it took for her to hold the weight of his leg. Maybe the muscle loss from inactivity wasn’t as bad as he’d expected, but it would only be a matter of time until his leg was as skinny as one of her arms.
“That’s pretty good, really,” she said as she rested his foot back on the floor.
“Flexibility is not my problem. Walking is the problem.”
“I know. But we have to start somewhere.” She lifted the other leg, extended it and then set it down again.
But did she know? Did she understand that he probably needed a shrink now more than a PT, since his continued paralysis might be in his head? Even his doctors had hinted at it. Did she have any idea how critical it was for him to get back on the job and at least work toward restitution over a debt he might never be able to fully repay?
Kent Sawyer’s silly grin slipped into his thoughts then, as it often did when he was feeling sorry for himself. Kent had always been the first to tell him to buck up, but his argument was even stronger now that he gave it from his hospital bed, where Kent was giving cancer the battle of his life and losing a little more every day.
Where would he be now if the police officer hadn’t stuck his neck out for him with the courts and refused to give up on a juvenile delinquent like everyone else had? He’d deserved to be forgotten after he’d been responsible for another kid’s death, whether he could be held legally accountable or not.
Natalie cleared her throat, his silence clearly making her uncomfortable.
“Why don’t we back up for a minute?” She did just that, backing away from him and then reaching for the rolling chair behind her. Once she was seated, she grabbed his file and flipped it open. “Let’s talk a little about your injury.”
“Okay.”
“How long has it been since the accident?”
His gaze lowered to the file that probably contained all the information she could have asked for, but he decided to humor her...to a point. “It wasn’t exactly an accident. That gun didn’t go off by itself.”
“Of course. I mean the incident. So how long?”
“Over three months.” The longest thirteen weeks of his life.
“Three months,” she repeated as she wrote something on the paper. “According to your file, you sustained an incomplete spinal cord injury between L5 and S1, and the surgeon was successful in removing the bullet.” She looked up from the file. “You were lucky it was so low in your spinal cord.”
“Yeah, the doctors also said if it had been a complete spinal cord injury, I would have permanently lost all movement and sensation beneath the point of injury.” He used air quotes to indicate he was repeating the doctor’s clinical explanation.
She nodded. “And were you wearing a Kevlar vest when it happened?”
Shane blinked, the off-topic question hitting him fast and low. He was the one gritting his teeth now, but she didn’t notice. It wasn’t the first time someone had asked that, but her question sounded more like an accusation. Was she suggesting that getting shot was somehow his fault?
“I don’t see what that has to do with—”
She lifted her head and blinked several times. “Forget I asked that. I was just curious.”
He studied her, noting again her light brown skin. Could she possibly be biracial? If so, she would have a better reason than most to resent those few bad apples in law enforcement who’d committed wrongs against the African-American community. But, again, that had nothing to do with him. The least she could do was get to know him before she hated his guts.
She fidgeted under his scrutiny. “I said forget I asked.”
“Then to ease your curiosity, yes, I was wearing a vest. Funny thing about so-called bulletproof vests. They’re really only bullet resistant.”
“Oh.”
“That was my thought.”
“Sorry...that it happened.” Natalie glanced down, becoming engrossed with the file she held. She tapped the paper with her pen. “How long were you in inpatient rehab?”
“Eight weeks. And then four weeks of in-home PT after. Yet here I am.” He gestured toward his chair. “I need to get back to the force now. No. Sooner than that.”
“You have to be patient,” she said. “Every recovery is different.”
“Well, this one is taking forever. I mean, the doctors assured me I would walk again, but...” He shrugged.
“I’m sure you’ll be back to playing cops and robbers in no time.”
She chuckled when she said it, though her eyes darted to the right, as if she was suddenly uncomfortable. But he wouldn’t let her get away with a comment like that again. Even if she had a good reason to dislike cops, she didn’t get to take it out on him.
“I’m more concerned about getting back to work so I can help people.”
Her gaze lifted to meet his. “Sorry. Long day.”
“The day’s only half over.”
“I mean it.” She paused, looking at the floor. “That was uncalled for. It won’t happen again.”
“That’s good to hear.”
He didn’t doubt what she said was true. Natalie Keaton didn’t appear to be the kind of woman who slipped up often, so part of him liked that he’d pushed her off her game. Was it because he unnerved her? Who was he kidding? He was the only one who’d been affected in any way by their meeting. And he’d better get over it in a hurry.
This wasn’t about attraction, or lack thereof. It was about him learning to walk again. Soon. Sooner if he ever hoped to be out on patrol again instead of warehoused behind a desk or, worse, be thanked for his service and put out to law-enforcement pasture with the other officers who’d given almost all for public safety.
As his physical therapist, Natalie might be the one thing between him and that meaningless future. Well, she and whatever was messing with his head and keeping him from walking. But until he figured that out, she was all he had. So he didn’t care what problems she had with him. He intended to win her over to his side. His future depended on it.
“IT’S ABOUT TIME.”
Shane’s words as they reached the reception area were the same ones he’d said before, and, again, Natalie couldn’t have agreed more. The appointment had to have lasted longer than just an hour, at least if physical and mental exertion counted as minutes. For him and her. Even though Shane had worked harder than her last three clients combined, she still was relieved the appointment was over.
The woman seated in the chair across from them looked just the way Natalie would have predicted. Blonde. Flawless. A perfect match for someone who looked like Shane Warner. Now the police uniform the woman wore, Natalie hadn’t expected that. Was this the Kelly he’d mentioned earlier?
The officer, who’d been engrossed in the screen of her smartphone, startled as if caught doing something she shouldn’t have been and leaped to her feet. She frowned as her phone clattered to the floor.
“Now see what you made me do. If it’s broken, you’re a dead man.” She crouched and grabbed the phone from beneath the chair and examined it as she stood. Finally, she looked up at them. “Anyway, I’m here. Right on time.”
“You’re usually late, so thanks for the special effort.”
“You’re