Page 83 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

“Annette Whittier?”

I turn. A woman in navy scrubs walks toward me with a tablet tucked against her hip and a smile that somehow manages to be warm and brisk at the same time.

“I’m Elise Morgan, lead therapist for outpatient sports rehab.”

I shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“We’re glad to have you. I’ve heard good things.”

“That makes one of us.”

She laughs. “Good. A sense of humor helps around here.”

“I’ll try to keep mine functional.”

“Excellent. We’ll test it by noon.”

She leads me past the front desk and into a small charting area overlooking the gym. The space is bright, efficient, and already moving. Two therapists review schedules. A medical assistant stocks supplies. Someone has taped a handwritten note above the printer.

PLEASE STOP THREATENING THE PRINTER. IT RESPONDS TO KINDNESS.

Below it, someone else has added...

DOES IT, THOUGH?

I like this place immediately.

Elise hands me a tablet.

“Your login is set. We’ll ease you in today. Observation first, then you’ll assist with assessments and guided therapeutic work under supervision.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Famous last words.”

I smile as I take the tablet. “Patient list?”

“Already loaded.”

She steps beside me and points through the screen.

“Mostly post-op orthopedic patients this morning. Rotator cuff repair, ACL reconstruction, ankle fracture, one lumbar disc case, and...”

She pauses. Not long. Just enough.

I look down. The second name on my list stares back at me.

Walker, Jamie.

My thumb stills on the edge of the tablet. For one absurd second, I simply stare at the screen like the letters might rearrange themselves into someone else.

They don’t. Jamie Walker. Postoperative clavicle repair. Rib fractures. Resolving pneumothorax.

Initial outpatient rehabilitation assessment.

My mouth does something traitorous. It smiles. I catch it immediately. Stop that.

Elise notices because apparently everyone in rehabilitation is trained to see what people try to hide.