Navy Seal Security. Liz Johnson

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СКАЧАТЬ Dr. Berg see Luke through this new challenge?

      “You look like you’re in pretty good shape physically.” An unspoken question washed over her face. How did you stay so fit?

      “Force of habit.”

      “What is?”

      “Exercising.” His gaze drifted past her, to the shadow of a palm tree beyond the parking lot outside. It looked just like the trees visible from the Coronado beaches where the SEAL teams trained, and his heart jerked with an acute longing to be back there with his brothers.

      “And your doctors at the hospital let you keep up a routine?”

      He pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, forcing his mind from sandy shores. “More like they ignored it when I didn’t show signs of atrophy.”

      Her brown eyes glowed with something new, something interested. “What have you been doing?”

      “Mostly resistance bands and bodyweight moves. Whatever I can do from my bed or a chair.”

      She took a long pause, crossing and uncrossing her legs, tapping her foot, running her fingers across her chin. All the while, her gaze never left his face, until he could physically feel her assessment.

      The silence built like a concerto, its pressure pounding at his temples until she spoke. “I wish I could help, but I don’t think I’m the right physical therapist for you. But I’ll have Tara give you a list of other qualified, local PTs, who might be a better fit.”

      His heart flipped in his chest, disappointment raging through him like a clap of thunder. “I thought this meeting was to help me decide if I wanted to work with you.”

      “You thought wrong.”

      * * *

      Mandy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling at the confusion splashed across Luke’s boyish features. She felt bad for him. Really. But she was doing him a favor.

      He needed someone who could really commit to helping him return to active duty. He might never return to the SEAL teams, but his service as a navy medic didn’t have to be over. He deserved a PT who didn’t require an extra arm’s length between them.

      And it had taken her all of five minutes with him to know that she’d have to keep him at least that far away. Farther would be safer. For both of them.

      Besides, her future was a little too uncertain at the moment to take on a long-termer like Luke.

      “So, you’re what? You’re passing me off?” For someone who hadn’t looked very happy to be in her clinic in the first place, he sure sounded bitter at her rejection.

      “It’s best for you to have someone who can give you the time that I just can’t right now.” She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but for some reason it faltered. “If you want your old life back—”

      He snorted. “Is that even possible?”

      She eyed the brace around his knee, wanting desperately to make him promises. But she just couldn’t do it. “Maybe.”

      “And those other physical therapists, are they as good as you are? Are they as likely to get me back out there?” His hand waved toward the beach.

      A rubber band around her stomach went taut at the muted hope lacing every one of his words. Mandy opened her mouth to answer with the socially acceptable, politically correct response, but something about Luke’s situation called for her to be honest. “They’re good. And they can help you.”

      “Right.” He clambered to his feet, his crutches clanging together as he hopped on his good leg, angling toward the hallway and the exit beyond. “Thanks for your time.”

      “Listen, Luke. I’m sorry.”

      He paused but didn’t turn back toward her. “Sorry that I’ll never serve on the teams again? Or that you’re sending me to a second-rate PT?”

      She crossed her arms, tilted her head back and took a cleansing breath, sending up a silent prayer for patience. “The most important person in your recovery is you.”

      She picked up the file his surgeon had sent over and flipped through it. Of course she’d already read it cover to cover—twice. But he didn’t have to know that. For the moment, she just needed something other than his slumped shoulders and haggard features to focus on.

      Beneath the prickly shell and tart words was a man in pain.

      But she couldn’t help him.

      She couldn’t afford to invest in a case like his. In a man like him. Not again.

      When Luke reached the entry to the hallway, Mandy called out to him, “I really am sorry. Please ask Tara for some other names.”

      He didn’t stop or even indicate that he’d heard her.

      Luke was just too much like Gary. Too handsome. Too sharp. Too striking.

      The very memory of Gary, who’d been her patient nearly four years before, sent shivers down her arms.

      She couldn’t think about him. She didn’t want to. And Luke would be a constant reminder.

      Pushing herself up, she marched down the hall and ducked into her office. The tiny room was a lesson in sparseness. The walls were white, save for three framed diplomas over a large wooden desk, which sat opposite two padded chairs. A stack of files in the in-box on the corner of her desk called for her attention, but the enormous bouquet of white roses in the middle of her workspace filled her senses. She pressed her nose into them, inhaling the sweet, clean fragrance. Like a spring rain, they washed away any uncertainty left over from her meeting with Luke.

      She’d done right by him, sending him on his way.

      “Tara, are you out there? Where did these come from?”

      There was no response. Tara must have stepped outside. Digging through the satin-soft petals, Mandy found a card and quickly opened it. Patients often sent thank-you cards but rarely flowers. And who had known that white roses were her favorite?

      Tugging the little green card from its envelope, she took another rich breath.

      I miss you. I miss us. Gary

      Nausea curdled the contents of her stomach, and she doubled over as bile reached the back of her throat. No longer sweet, the roses stank of betrayal and broken hearts and her very worst mistake. With a single sweep of her arm, she sent them flying over the edge of her desk. The glass vase hit the metal trash can with a crack loud enough to reach the parking lot, immediately followed by a shriek and rapid footfalls.

      “Mandy?” Tara called before she even appeared in the doorway. “What happened?”

      Mandy kept her chin tucked into her chest and her arms crossed. With shaking legs, she turned toward Tara. Her breath hitched as she tried to answer the question still hanging over the room, but there were no words to explain the pounding of her heart.

      Tara remained silent for a СКАЧАТЬ