“Tell me when,” I remind him gently.
“I’m... fine,” he grunts, his hands gripping the edges of the table, his knuckles turning pale. “Keep going.”
“Carter—”
“Fifty-eight,” he wheezes out, a stubborn smile tugging at his lips. “Give me sixty, Lockwood. I want sixty.”
“This isn’t a board meeting, Carter. You can’t intimidate a joint into bending.”
I hold the position, letting the tissues stretch without tearing. “You’re six degrees ahead of Monday. That’s solid progress.”
“Six degrees isn’t enough.” He wipes his forehead with his forearm, looking up at me with a dangerous amount of charm. “Come on. Admit I’m your star patient.”
“You’re my only patient currently trying to turn physical therapy into a competitive sport,” I counter, but I can’t stop the tiny, genuine smile that breaks across my face.
Carter catches it instantly.
His blue eyes light up like he’s just won a Supreme Court ruling.
“There it is,” he whispers triumphantly. “A smile. I knew you had one in there, Lockwood.”
I clear my throat, instantly locking my professional mask back in place, though my cheeks feel unnaturally warm.
“Don’t get used to it, Stratford. Ice time.”
— Medical Meet Cute by Audrey Geneva
