Split

Chapter thirteen

"Alright," Lucy wheels her chair back after making sure my knee immobilizer is secured properly. "That's it for today."

She hits me with one of those sunny smiles I try my best to imitate. I attempt to force my face to conjure up a somewhat believing happy expression. Smiling used to be so natural to me you'd think it was a knee-jerk reaction.

But I'm not sure that says much since my actual knee isn't doing much of anything these days.

Lucy correctly reads my displeasure and unease, and her eyes soften as she tilts her head. "You did good today, Mitch."

She's good with praise, which normally, I thrive on, but when you're being applauded for your leg not crumbling under you, it suddenly feels a bit patronizing.

I look around the room, the anxious energy I would usually burn off during training wreaking havoc on my nerves; I feel reluctant to leave. "Good enough that we'll do another round of exercises?"

Her lips pinch as she stands from her chair, which gives her a slight height advantage over my seat on the treatment table. "I don't think so."

"Please." I throw in a seductive smirk that usually makes women melt and, honest to god, bat my damn lashes.

The hour I use here twice a week is the only time I feel slightly useful. It's often combated by intense anger at my very useless leg when it refuses to do straightforward things we've been doing since I learned to walk, but that emotion isn't far away at any point these days. When it comes down to it, I'd rather be here cursing my stupid limb than being in my apartment, regret and shame eating away at me.

My physical therapist shakes her head bemused. "You're too pretty for your own good, you know that?"

She turns to grab a tablet and taps information into it. My lips curl. "Flirting with your patients? Very unprofessional, Lucy."

She lifts her hand, wiggling her ring finger, the ornate jewel there glinting in the light, serving as a reminder that she has no reason to flirt with me. "Stating facts isn't flirting, Mitch. But with that face, I can understand why you never learned to tell the difference." She glances up from the tablet. "Is your girlfriend picking you up today?"

"Maya is not my girlfriend." A correction I've made to Lucy a dozen times by now. She just hums, unconvinced. "But no, I've ordered a car today."

Maya usually drives me to and from physical therapy, but she had a class today she couldn't get out of. "Speaking of that, aren't I supposed to be able to drive by myself soon?"

It would make my life much easier and give me some control and dignity back. I've had to hand over the keys to my truck to Maya, and I would really like them back. At least I convinced her that the Porsche was too impractical.

Lucy cocks her head. "Once you're off the crutches, we can discuss it."

I glance at the two seemingly innocent appliances at my side, which have become the bane of my existence. "And when will that be?"