Page 86 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

“I don’t threaten.”

Elise coughs softly beside me. I remember she exists. That seems important.

Jamie’s eyes shift to her. “Elise Morgan.” She offers a hand. “So, you remember me then.”

He shakes it with presence and respectful eye contact.

“Of course. Jamie.”

“I know.”

He winces faintly. “Right. Sorry.”

“No apology necessary. Around here, everyone gets to be a patient.”

His expression changes just a little, in a way I understand. “Good,” he says.

And I believe him.

Elise gestures toward the evaluation rooms. “We’ll start in Room Two.”

Jamie nods.

I notice the moment he almost reaches for the door with his injured side.

He stops himself.

Switches hands. Small adjustment. Small frustration. Small victory.

He thinks no one sees.

I do.

Room Two is warm and quiet, with one treatment table, two chairs, and a window overlooking the snowy courtyard. Jamie lowers himself into the chair instead of the table, which is smart. Chairs feel less clinical. Less vulnerable.

Elise reviews the plan while I open his chart. There is no rushing. No excessive reassurance. Just clear expectations.

“Today is not about pushing limits,” Elise says. “It’s about establishing your baseline.”

Jamie nods.

“Baseline.”

“That means we see where you are now.”

“Not where I want to be.”

“Exactly.”

His eyes flick toward me. “Did you warn her?”

“No.”

Elise smiles. “She didn’t have to.”

Jamie exhales, and for the first time since he walked in, some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

We begin gently on posture, breathing, scapular positioning, and hand and wrist motion.