I forced my thoughts to follow her words.
My knee.
I was here to heal, and that was it.
My wolf would just have to get over it.
“Based on what I’ve seen here today—” Her voice grew serious, “and the fact that your body should have healed itself by now—” We shared a knowing look, and I winced because she was right. “—I suggest three sessions a week with some exercises at home for your days off.”
“An athlete never has days off,” I said, mostly to remind myself who—and what—I was. A snowboarder. And more importantly, someone who no longer lived in Midnight Falls.
“Then this should be easy for you.”
“Do you think this will be enough to heal me?” I asked.
“If you follow the plan I’ve laid out, I don’t see why not.”
“Good. With the season opening in a few weeks, I don’t want to leave my boss down an instructor.”
She stiffened. “You’ll be out of here in no time,” she said, turning away to finish writing notes in my patient file.
Well then.
Apparently, time didn’t heal everything.
Guilt pricked at me as memories flooded in. Images I’d worked hard to force out for the past decade. My chest grew heavy.
I looked down at my hands, familiar regret warring with what had been a teenager’s desperation.
“Cat, listen, if this is too difficult, working together—” I began, but she cut me off.
“Why would it be difficult?”
Now that I’d brought up the elephant in the room, her tone had gone frigid. To her credit, she was facing me now with full eye contact. Like a prizefighter more than willing to go head to head.
I drank it in, surprised and intrigued.
The look in her eyes—the fire, the heat—was new. The old Cat hated conflict. She would have been polite above all else. This version was braver. Sassier. And damn if it didn’t turn me on.
“The way we left things wasn’t exactly friendly,” I said, choosing my words carefully now.
“I don’t need any more friends,” she said. “Besides, this is my job, and I’m a professional. What happened between us is in the past. We’re not the same people, and I’ve certainly moved on.”
It was a challenge—or at least that’s how my wolf took it. One I would have gladly risen to if not for my wolf strangling my attempt to lie right along with her.
Fuck.
This wasn’t going to be easy.
“All right,” I said slowly, my voice hoarse in my ears. “Three times a week. What do I do at home?”
She thrust a few papers at me. “Instructions for the exercises are here. It works best with a partner.” A shadow passed over her expression. “A girlfriend maybe.”
“Don’t have one.”
“A wife.”
I snorted. “Don’t have one of those either.”
Her eyes narrowed like she didn’t believe me. But she only said, “A friend then.”
I shook my head. “Short on those too.”
She frowned. “There must be someone. Ask your mom.”
“My mom would do it if I asked, except that would require me going home.” I looked away.
“You’re not staying at home?”
Her question was quiet—and knowing. I realized with a start she hadn’t suggested I go to my dad for help.
Did she know?
Had word gotten out in the years I’d been gone?
“I’m renting a room over at Nicole’s,” I said quietly.
She nodded then glanced down at the papers in my hand.
There was a long silence. I could feel her debating something with herself. Finally, she looked up at me. The fury from earlier was gone. “I could come by. Check on you. Just until you find someone else.”
I blinked.
She flushed. “I mean, that’s probably weird after all this—”
“Yes.”
My wolf practically snarled the word, but Cat didn’t flinch. She’d grown up around this stuff, had witnessed my beast rising more than once back in high school. Still. I took a deep breath to rein in my emotions. “Yes,” I said again, more calmly. “I’d appreciate that.”
“I’ll come by in the morning.”
“Perfect.”
I smiled.
She smiled.
It took about two-point-four seconds for the friendliness to give way to something else. Tension. Heat. Then awkwardness descended.
She rose slowly, nodding at the hall that led back to the waiting room. “You can let yourself out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Damn right she would.
And every day forever after that if my wolf got its way.
6
Cat
My hands shook as I watched Easton leave. At the sight of him walking away from me, my heart felt broken open all over again. It didn’t matter that ten years had passed. It didn’t matter I’d see him tomorrow or that he was only leaving an appointment and not our relationship. Standing there, watching him leave me felt like graduation all over again.
The moment he was out of sight, I retreated to my office. For the first time in almost a year, I was grateful my father’s old corner office had become mine. And more grateful for the blinds that offered privacy from the rest of the staff. Finally, being the boss had its perks.
I shut the door behind me with a soft click then sank into my chair. Dropping my face into my hands, I tried to decide whether I felt like crying or screaming or maybe even throwing a paperweight at the wall.
All three seemed like a good way to go. So did day drinking, honestly.
Before I could decide, my phone rang.
I slid it out of my pocket, hands still shaky and clammy, then groaned.
The name on the screen only sent me spiraling further.
Travis was a shit-show I could not deal with right now.
I ignored the call and then turned off the ringer. Closing my eyes, I tried not to see Easton’s ruggedly handsome face behind my lids. But it was useless.
He was everywhere. No longer only alive in memory but here, now. In Midnight Falls and in my clinic. In my life.
Rudy would probably call it fate. Or a test. Or some other weirdo woo-woo prophecy. But I knew it for what it was: I was terrible at picking men. And now my past choices were
