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Do not go to Dr. Cardoso. I hurt more after our session.
That didn’t seem too bad. I was also in pain after my first session, but both my orthopedic surgeon and Cal had explainedthat was expected. Anyone familiar with the process should know not to blame the PT. The next comment was harsher.
Dr. Cardoso has terrible bedside manners. He made me cry.
Technically, Cal had made me cry too, though that’d been more from embarrassment than anything he said. It was believable he’d brought someone else to tears. The next comment, though, didn’t feel right.
This man is completely incompetent. He had me do arm exercises for most of the session. I’m recovering from hip surgery.
Many of the comments didn’t even explain why he’d received one star.
Just no. Run.
Cal kept silent while I read, but after a moment he said, “Now scroll down and read the comments that are older than two months.”
All the reviews from April or before were positive, glowing even. Nearly all had left a five-star rating. There was also something strange about the number of recent comments. They took up a larger percentage than the prior two years combined. My analyst brain clicked on. The newest reviews had tanked his cumulative rating, and unless Cal had seen five times the patients in the past two months than in the last years, most, if not all, were bogus.
“Avery ruined your online reputation.”
Cal nodded. “The bulk of my business is new clients. I do treat patients with chronic conditions, but for the most part, people come to me after surgery or an injury. I’m still getting some patients from word of mouth, but most people check online reviews before starting treatment.”
“Can’t you get these taken down?”
“It’s not as easy as you’d think. Avery creates new accounts to post reviews faster than I can have them removed.”
“But that’s not your fault. Your job shouldn’t be on the line.”
“Dr. Cohen feels otherwise. Right before you arrived this morning, he said I had until the end of July to clean up my reviews. He also said he’d fire me if any of my current patients complained.”
My stomach sank. Cal really would lose his job if I didn’t continue treatment. I knew what it felt like to be at Avery’s mercy, to have my life shaped by her daily decision to ignore or inflict pain. Still, I didn’t want to finish PT with Cal. One: He brought out the worst in me. Two: Despite that, I still wanted to rip his scrubs off and lick his chest. And judging by his reaction in the elevator, he might not mind.
I had enough problems of my own without worrying about Cal’s. Lusting after him twice a week didn’t seem wise either. I handed him the phone and turned my face away, so I didn’t have to look him in the eyes when I told him no.
He let out a sigh. “Claudia Nguyen works out of an office in Jericho. She’s worth the ten-minute drive if you can manage it. Otherwise, I recommend Ted Savanti on Maple. If either can’t see you right away, keep up with the stretches I showed you on Tuesday and try to go on a walk every day. Start small and build. Take standing breaks if you sit for a while, and if possible, elevate your feet whenever you sit to reduce the pressure on your lower back.”
He started to walk away, and I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind. “Chris.”
He stopped and turned as though I’d meant to call him but used the wrong name. I hadn’t. Since I’d been home, I’d seen how much my little brother enjoyed spending time with Cal. Chris might be the happiest person I knew, but it couldn’t be easy growing up without a father in a house full of sports-hating women, especially for a kid as athletic as Chris. He was always looking for someone to join him in a pickup game. I’d hate to seethe relationship he’d built with Cal suffer because of me. “Chris needs help training for tryouts,” I said.
Cal nodded, and I saw the moment he caught the hint I’d dropped. “You want me to train him in exchange for you remaining my patient.”
“Would you?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he nodded.
Part of me felt bad for coercing him to help my brother. But the scrap of pride I’d managed to keep after Brad and the accident felt intact. I could keep working with Cal for Chris’s sake without feeling like a complete doormat.
“You can never tell Chris,” I said. “He needs to believe you’re helping him because you want to, not because I forced you.”
“That’s a given,” he said with some heat.
“We better go,” I said and started walking toward Main Street. “I assume your boss needs to see me with you before my session ends, and it’s going to take me a while to get back.”
He nodded. “I said we were doing stair training when you left. Here,” he said holding out his hand. “Let me take your bag.”
Usually, I wouldn’t pass my purse to someone to carry but my back and shoulder were aching. I handed it over and he tested the weight of it before slinging it over his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to carry a woman’s purse. But after a minute, he frowned.
“You don’t have to carry it,” I said, as we passed a young woman on the sidewalk. She gave Cal a heated glance but kept walking when she saw the bag on his shoulder.
