Page 55
I almost smiled. “Get in the water, Kedish.”
He lowered himself in slowly, testing the injured hip as he went. The water climbed his body—thighs, hips, waist, and chest—until he stood in the deep end with the surface lapping below his shoulders.
“We lost the first game,” he said. “It’s my fault.”
“You’re not the entire team.”
He shrugged.
“How does it feel?”
“Warm.”
“I meant your hip.”
“Better. The pressure’s different.”
I made a note on my tablet, then set it down and sat, dangling my legs in the water.
His gaze tracked the movement, then very deliberately moved away.
I dropped in, the water cool against my skin despite the therapeutic temperature. It rose to my waist, then my chest as I slowly joined him.
“We’re starting with basic mobility,” I said, falling back into clinical mode. “Walking forward, backward, and lateral movement. I want to see how the hip responds to resistance without impact.”
He nodded.
“Forward first. Slow, controlled steps. Don’t push through the pain.”
He walked the length of the pool, his movements careful but smooth. The water created resistance that would’ve been impossible to replicate on land, every step loading the hip so I could see exactly where weakness remained.
I watched from the side, noting the slight hitch in his stride at the very end of his range.
“Again,” I said. “This time slower.”
He did it again. And again. And again, without a cocky grin or attempt to convince me he was fine when he wasn’t.
This version of Brashe, the one who showed up early and followed instructions and didn’t make excuses, was so much worse than the jerk from the picnic. That guy I could dismiss. This one was making it really hard to keep my walls up.
“Lateral now,” I said. “Side steps, facing the wall.”
He moved through the drill.
“Alright. Now I need to check your hip mobility.”
He turned to face me.
I moved closer. “I’m going to guide you through some range-of-motion work. It’s going to require me to position your leg.”
I placed my hands on his hips, feeling the muscle tension under my palms.
“Rotate left.”
He did, the movement smooth until the very end, where I felt the restriction.
“And right.”
Same thing. Smooth, then restricted.
