LITMIR.BIZ

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wall and floor-to-ceiling windows to his left. The panes were covered with fabric shades, which kept the setting sun mostly hidden. To his right sat three consultation tables.

      The woman leaned her hip against the first table, fixed her wayward collar and crossed her arms, her gaze assessing and cool. When her stare hit his wrapped knee, she lingered, and the muscles in his back grew tight. Even with his sweatpants tucked into his brace, he felt bare, too exposed.

      “When will I meet Dr. Berg?”

      Her wide eyes met his gaze, a frown pinching the corners of her mouth. “I didn’t introduce myself, did I?” He shook his head. “I am Dr. Berg. Mandy. Please, call me Mandy.”

      His eyebrows shot up before he could stop them. So, this was the good doctor. The young doctor. She looked just about old enough to start college, but she’d helped Matt more than three years ago. She wasn’t exactly a rookie.

      Clearing his throat, he tried to find something to say. Nothing came to mind. Not even a generic greeting.

      That was odd. He’d never been at a loss for words before the bomb. Before the surgery. Before his future had become so absolutely uncertain.

      After what felt like hours of weighted silence, she pasted a smile into place. “So tell me, Petty Officer Dunham—”

      “Luke.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “Please. I prefer— Call me— It’s just Luke.” He bit off the words, unsure how to explain that the medical discharge he’d been offered was one signature, one failed physical away. And after that, he’d never be a petty officer again. Every official document that touted it, every voice that spoke it was just more evidence of how close he was to losing it. All of it.

      And a reminder of how much he’d already lost.

      “Of course.” She pressed her hand flat to her stomach, her shoulders rising and falling in an exaggerated motion. “How long were you at Walter Reed?”

      He hitched his chin toward the manila file lying on the table next to her hip. “Isn’t that in my file?”

      “It is. But I’m asking you.”

      He narrowed his gaze on her, trying to read between the smooth angles of her face, but whatever she was thinking was hidden beneath a mask of easy professionalism. She maintained eye contact, never flinching, even as he felt the scowl that had become his cover slide into place. “Too long.”

      She gave him a half smile, the corresponding jolt in his stomach making him stand up a little straighter. She should be frowning. After all, he’d perfected keeping people at a distance since the surgery. Keeping them at arm’s length was easier than watching their pitying expressions.

      “And in calendar terms?” she asked.

      The muscles in his jaw screwed up tighter than a tourniquet. “Three weeks before they could move me to San Diego.”

      “Other injuries?”

      He shrugged. “There were a few.” Dozen. The shrapnel from the blast that had twisted his knee had left marks up and down the left side of his body.

      But all of that would be in his file.

      She nodded, flipped her hair over her shoulder and motioned to a padded chair. “Would you like to sit down?”

      He studied her face, looking for any hint that she knew just how uncomfortable these crutches were. But her mask held. She didn’t give him even a twitch of a smile as she nodded to the seat opposite her.

      With a sigh, Luke lowered himself onto the chair, keeping his left foot a safe distance off the ground. His crutches clacked together as he slid them between the legs of the chair.

      “If I take you on, you’ll be with me three times a week for at least six weeks. And when you’re not here, you’ll be exercising at home. Most days, you’re going to wish you were back in the hospital. It’ll be awful. But after a while, it won’t be.”

      “Wow.” He fought the grin that threatened to find purchase and instead opted for a verbal jab. “Do you start every consultation with that sales pitch?”

      “Only the ones that need it.”

      “Huh.” Refusing to analyze what she was really saying, he got right to the point of his visit. “Will I be able to get back to my team?”

      She squinted until one eye disappeared altogether. “That depends.”

      “On?”

      “You...mostly.” She patted her belly. “Are you strong enough? Will you listen to me when I say it’s time to wait? And put in the work when I say it’s time to go?”

      He couldn’t keep in a bark of laughter.

      Something like a challenge flickered in Mandy’s eyes, and she leaned forward. “We’d start out easy the first couple sessions. You’ve been out of the gym for more than a month.”

      “But before that, I was in the gym for half my life.”

      “Only half your life?” She shrugged her shoulder and pursed her lips. “What was that? Ten years?”

      “It was long enough.” A low sizzle in his veins demanded attention, calling him to prove her skepticism wrong. He crossed his arms, displaying some of the results of those years in the gym as he stretched the shoulders and sleeves of his gray T-shirt.

      Thirteen years in the gym couldn’t be denied. Nor could three years as a SEAL.

      “I’m not so sure about that.” She leaned forward, invading his space, and he pulled away, into the unyielding chair.

      “Get used to it, Luke. We’re going to have to get a lot closer than this if we work together.”

      But that was still a big if. He hadn’t even decided if he wanted to work with her.

      Except...

      Well, there was something about her that reminded him of one of his instructors during SEAL training. Chief Willard had been hard and unflinching, smart and determined to see Luke succeed. And Luke had. Mostly because of the chief.

      Could 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.”

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