“The sooner the better,” he murmured, dropping into the other chair, his legs stretched out so that his feet were almost touching Tessa’s.
She didn’t shift away, but she wanted to. At first glance, she’d thought Seth was average, but the more she studied him, the more obvious it became that he was anything but that.
Maybe Dana had been right. Maybe he was going to be trouble.
She frowned, thumbing through his paperwork and reading the information he’d provided. There wasn’t much. A shoulder injury that had required extensive surgery and therapy. A concussion. He’d marked a level seven pain in the affected shoulder and shaded a pain-point indicator through the shoulder and up into the neck, but he hadn’t specified a cause for the injury.
“Were you in a car accident?” she asked, glancing up and straight into his eyes. Blue flecked with silver and rimmed with thick gold lashes.
“No.”
“Sports injury?”
“No.”
“I could spend the rest of the day guessing, or you could just tell me what happened and save us both some time.”
He smiled, amusement flashing in his eyes.
“You know, Tessa, I think we’re going to get along just fine,” he said, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. “Here’s the deal. I was in Afghanistan. My convoy was attacked and my shoulder got blown to bits. I came back to the States, had surgery and then rehabbed for a year.”
“How long ago was that?” Tessa asked, making a production of taking notes because she didn’t want to look in his eyes again. He was way more than she’d thought when she’d first seen him. Way more...interesting. Today of all days, she didn’t want to notice.
Shouldn’t notice.
“The first injury? Two years ago. I completed rehab a year ago and started working for Personal Securities Incorporated six months after that.”
“When did the reinjury occur?”
“A couple of weeks ago. One of my clients was attacked, and I stepped in.” He shrugged as if it hadn’t been a big deal, but Tessa had a feeling it had.
“Did you have an X-ray or MRI?”
“Both. Everything is clear. My doctor thinks it’s just pulled muscles and inflammation from old scar tissue.”
“Let’s check your range of motion. Go ahead and sit on the table.”
He nodded, moving silently and easily, his white T-shirt skimming firm muscles and a flat abdomen. He wore black gym shorts and running shoes, and his left knee was crisscrossed with scars and swollen above the patella.
“Looks like your knee is bothering you, too.”
“If we tried to fix all my problems, we’d be here for the rest of the day. How about we just concentrate on the shoulder?” His tone was easy, but there was an edge of steel in it.
“It’s all connected. If one thing is out of alignment, the rest of the body suffers.” She put a hand on his elbow, maneuvering his arm in the damaged socket. “Does this hurt?”
“Yes.” He didn’t wince, though, and there was no hint of pain in his voice or eyes.
“Mind if I take a look at the surgery scar?” She rolled up his sleeve, but could see only the edge of the scar, still deep purple and angry-looking.
“This doesn’t look two years old.”
“I’ve had two surgeries since the first one.”
“You should have mentioned that before we started.” She frowned and jotted a note in his file. “When was the last surgery?”
“Eight months ago.”
“Your surgeon?”
“Guy on the East Coast.” He offered the name, and she jotted that down, too.
“Okay. Let’s work through a few exercises, see how far we can push things without making them worse.”
“Sounds good.” He flashed a smile.
Despite the quick grin, Tessa had the feeling that Seth was assessing her. Whatever conclusions he was coming to, he kept them well hidden as she worked him through a series of exercises.
Thirty minutes later, sweat beaded his brow and his muscles were taut with effort, but he didn’t say a word about pain or discomfort. He seemed determined to push through whatever he was feeling.
“That’s good.” Tessa put a hand on his arm, stopping him before he could begin another rep. “We don’t want to overstress the joint or cause more pain than you’re already in.”
“I’m good.”
“No, you’re not. You’re pushing too hard. That’s only going to lengthen the recovery process. Lie down.” She patted the exam table. “I’ll have Dana come in and start some heat and stimulation while I print out exercises you can do at home.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?” Seth asked, standing up and stretching despite her instructions.
His question surprised a laugh out of her.
“More than one person. I took it as a compliment every time.”
“This should be an interesting relationship, then.” He used the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow and, without a smile, aimed his blue eyes straight at her. “I need to run. We can try heat and stim next time.”
She didn’t argue. Seth had to make the commitment to his recovery, and he had to be the one to follow through on it. “That’s fine. I’ll want to see you twice a week for at least a month. Why don’t you set that up with Dana? I’ll print out the exercises and meet you up front.”
She tossed the words over her shoulder as she walked into the hall.
“Tessa!” Dana hurried toward her, a small package in her hand. “Are you finished?”
“Yes. I want to see him twice a week for the next few weeks. Can you set that up?”
“No problem. But, before I do, this was sitting on the reception desk when I got back from bringing Ms. Edna to room 3.” She held up the package as if she’d just won the lottery.
“What’s in it?” Tessa asked, impatient to move on to the next client. Like Seth, Edna was early, and that suited Tessa just fine. Keeping busy would keep the memories at bay, and she needed that.
“I don’t know. It’s addressed to you. Why don’t you open it and find out?” Dana thrust the package into Tessa’s hands, the brown paper packaging cool and a little rough. A white envelope was taped to the top, Tessa’s name scrawled across it in bold black letters.
“So...”
