style="font-size:15px;"> “I’ll be good, Doc.” Brady winked, then instantly regretted it when the nurse giggled. There was nothing like a disabled man flirting with a gorgeous doctor. “You won’t recognize me the next time you see me.”
Sheila’s brows rose. “I don’t know if I should be scared by that statement or not. Just remember, I’ll be watching you.” She made a V with her fingers and waved them between her eyes and his. “Take care, Brady. I’ll see you soon.”
Brady was torn between wanting to see her right away and wanting to wait until he could do more than stand on wobbly legs. He knew she doubted he’d make a full recovery, but he’d prove her wrong. And then, maybe he’d even ask her out.
Sheila stripped out of her operating-room scrubs and tossed them into the hospital laundry bin. By the time she’d finished with her rotator-cuff reconstruction, Brady had been discharged and was on his way to Dance of Hope. Anyone who had one of the world’s most dangerous jobs definitely had the dedication it took to recover from his injuries. But a full recovery was doubtful. And she didn’t want Brady to become disillusioned if his body didn’t bounce back the way he hoped.
The thought of Brady being disappointed or giving up because he could not ride a bull bothered her more than it should. She’d learned during her first year internship to compartmentalize her emotions. Regardless of how hard she tried, she couldn’t save all of them and there were lots of Brady Sawyers in the world. Men determined to push their bodies further than they were meant to go.
Sheila had made a note on his file to discuss readjustment counseling in the upcoming weeks. She preferred to allow a patient to progress further along in their therapy before making the recommendation. Her colleagues didn’t always agree, but she felt mentioning it too soon shattered morale and hindered their improvement.
“Thanks for letting me take that surgery.” Marissa entered the locker room. “We had a patellar fracture during the tendon harvest.”
“You tend to see a lot of that in sports medicine,” Sheila said. “I’m heading to the cafeteria. Care to join me?”
“Sure. How did it go with your cowboy?”
The question created a slight tingle in her belly. “He’s not my cowboy.” The image of him standing in front of her replayed in her brain. She shook her head in a vain attempt to rid herself of the memory. “After talking with him, I understand Dr. Mangone’s trepidation about sending him to Dance of Hope. Brady’s a bit too gung ho to climb back on a bull and the fact that the hippotherapy center is located next to a rodeo school concerns me.”
“Brady?” Marissa stopped in the doorway and faced her. “It didn’t take long to progress to first names.”
Sheila pushed past her. “Don’t even joke about that. He’s a patient, Marissa. You know any romantic relationship is strictly forbidden by the medical board and this hospital. I’m not willing to risk my residency on anyone.”
“Relax, I’m only teasing.” Marissa held up her hands. “But if he wasn’t your patient you’d be tempted, right?”
Sheila spun to face her. “Listen to me. I’ve come too far and worked too hard to jeopardize my career over a rumor. If the wrong person hears what you’re saying, you could ruin everything for me. I’m trying to get into the orthopedic trauma fellowship program next year and I don’t need this.”
“Whoa. For someone with no romantic attachments to a patient you’re certainly doing your damnedest to defend yourself.”
She had every reason to. She’d almost given up medical school when her boyfriend asked her to move to Arizona. Fate had intervened and she’d caught him in bed with someone else, saving her from walking away from her dreams. Now she realized no amount of love or promise of a happily-ever-after was worth it. Relationships didn’t last forever. Being a doctor would.
Before Sheila had the chance to argue her point further, both of their pagers went off. Trauma Alert ER. “Let’s move!”
* * *
THE DANCE OF HOPE transport van pulled in front of the combined hippotherapy center and rodeo school entrance. The July sun warmed Brady’s face as he eased his legs out of the van and stepped onto the ground using the door as support. A woman with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair greeted him with a wheelchair.
“I’m Kay Langtry.” She helped him into the chair. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brady.”
“Ma’am, it’s a pleasure to be here.”
“We promise to take good care of you during your stay. Since it’s lunchtime, why don’t I start our tour in the common dining area.”
Brady hadn’t realized how hungry he was. “Sounds good to me. Lead the way.”
Kay nodded, silently acknowledging that he didn’t need any assistance. He was sweating by the time they reached the center’s entrance. It was the first time he’d used a wheelchair outside. The experience left him craving a cold shower rather than lunch. Brady paused in the entryway. He could hear the whoops and shouts coming from the rodeo school through massive oak doors to the right. He knew those sounds well and he missed them more than anything. The rodeo was his life—his past and his future.
“Do you need a moment?” Kay crouched down beside him so they were at eye level with one another. A gesture he appreciated. He got tired of always looking up at everyone, especially when he was used to towering over most people.
“I’m good. I’m anxious to get started.” When Dr. Mangone had told him about the hippotherapy center, he’d hopped online to research it. He’d been relieved to discover it was less than an hour away from his father, son and Alice. “Visitors are allowed, right?”
“Yes, they are.” Kay stood. “As often as you’d like. Let’s grab a bite to eat and settle you in. Feel free to invite your family to join us for dinner tonight. We always have enough food around here.”
“Thank you, I think I will.”
The common dining area took Brady off guard. He’d seen photos of it online, but it had been empty then. He hadn’t been prepared for the number of children in wheelchairs or on crutches. There were some military personnel—both men and women. That he’d expected. But the children broke his heart. Children Gunner’s age.
“I know this can be unsettling at first.” Kay placed a hand on his shoulder. “But don’t ever tell anyone here that you feel sorry for them or show them any pity. You will find this to be a very grateful and determined group. Everyone has the same goal—to get out of here one day. Some will walk out, others won’t. But it’s a team effort and everybody is rooting for you.”
Brady felt his heart pound in his chest. He was used to people rooting for him...in a different arena. He’d root for every child, every person here. As much as he wanted to be in his own home, he knew this was the best place for him. He would walk and compete again.
* * *
SHEILA SLAMMED HER front door. She’d lost a patient on the operating table. It happened often in trauma surgeries. She should be used to it by now. But how did someone get used to having a person
