Page 6 of Fractured Grief
“Oh yes. Carol mentioned you’d be arriving today. I’ll let her know you’re here. One moment.” She held up a finger as she picked up the phone and dialed an extension. “Hi, Carol, your newbie’s here,” she singsonged. “Sure thing.” She hung up and motioned for me to take a seat. “She will be right out.”
I didn’t even have time to take a seat when Carol came through the sliding doors to the right of the reception desk.
“Indiana.” She extended her hand to shake.
“Yes, and Indy, please. Nice to meet you in person.”
“Come with me and let’s get you settled before I give you a tour and see what your duties are.” Carol turned to lead me through the sliding doors. She was a tall woman with brunette hair swept up in a ponytail. She wore the company polo shirt and straight black pants with sneakers. From my work experience, practical hours, and training, I knew how important comfortable clothing and footwear were.
Carol showed me around the facilities and the various exercise equipment, which was all I needed to start planning therapies in my head. I would shadow her for the week before taking on my first client the following week. I couldn’t wait to get started.
My orientation week flew by, and I was finally meeting my first solo client today. Thefirstperson I would coach through recovery. I was vibrating with excitement. I was officially a licensed physical therapist. All my hard work, sleepless nights, hours of studying, and balancing life with Lex and Hazel had finally paid off, and I was beginning my dream career.
Carol had assigned me six clients: four solo and two within a group therapy setting. I was in the process of reviewing their case notes and injury backgrounds in preparation.
My career kickoff was a thirty-two-year-old male gunshot victim. Seb had a lot of setbacks since arriving at the hospital. He’d suffered a stroke during surgery, which the doctors caught quickly, but it had affected his right side. He had varying levels of pain, paralysis, and numbness. Seb also had speech issues from the stroke and a possible head injury, causing stuttered speech. From the notes, this man was lucky to be alive.
Carol appeared in the doorway of the break room. “You ready to meet your first client?” she asked, smiling in excitement because she knew my story and how much thismeant to me. She’d completely taken me under her wing and shown me the ropes, and I was so thankful for all her help and guidance.
“Yes! I was just going through his case notes one last time.” I quickly shuffled all the papers back into the folder and stood. “Lead the way.”
We headed out of the break room and down the hall. Carol popped her head in the door of room 262, then looked at me with a smirk as she knocked on the doorframe.
“Good morning, Mr. Papadakis. Mind if we come in?” she asked as she entered the room ahead of me. I followed her in as a rough voice responded, “Morn-ing, Carol. W-h-ho’s we?”
Carol was taller than my five-foot-four frame—yes, I’m that short—so I couldn’t see the patient until I came fully into the room. I tried to keep the shock off my face as I took in the hulking figure before me.
The man was huge, well over six feet, and broad. Holy fuck, he was stunning. I’d never seenanyone as tall or bulky as him. He wasn’t a mere human; he was a god. Shaking my head at my stupid thoughts, I snapped myself back to reality and focused on theinjured personthat I would be assisting.
He was slightly reclined in the hospital bed, his feet hanging well off the end and his shoulders wider than the width of the mattress. The poor man probably wasn’t very comfortable. He had rich olive skin that was a bit dull, but that was to be expected. His dark mess of thick, long, wavyhair was stark against the harsh white sheets. He had an unkempt bushy beard, but it was his eyes that captivated me. Deep pools of emerald green filled with despair and... was that fear? He had a weak smile on his face. I was hypnotized when he turned to look directly at me. My breath caught in my throat at the levels of pain and sadness that swirled there.
Shoot, Carol was speaking while I gawked at my new client. Shaking myself out of my trance, I glanced at Carol. “Sorry, what?”
She chuckled. “Sebastian Papadakis, this is your new physical therapist, Indiana Clark. Indy, meet Seb.”
“Hi...” my voice cracked. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “It’s nice to meet you.” I stepped forward and offered my hand. “Do you prefer Seb or Sebastian?”
His large hand fully engulfed mine as he took it to shake. “Seb is f-i-ine. So, you’re my n-ew tor-tur-er? When do we st-a-art?”
“Torturer, no. Drill sergeant, maybe,” I said with a wink, shocked at my audacity. I’d never spoken like that in my life.
“Oh, good one. Okay, Sarg… put me thr-o-ough my p-aces.”
A soft chuckle behind me reminded me that Carol was still in the room. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. If you need anything, I’ll be in my office. I’ll see you at four, Indy, for a debrief.” She turned to Seb. “You’re in good hands with this one.” She glanced down pointedly at my hand, which was still in Seb’s, resting on his leg.
I snatched my hand back, feeling my cheeks heat.
“See you later.” With a wave, she left the room.
Shit, I needed to pull myself together. I was a professional.
I took the seat by the bed and opened Seb’s file to go through some things and make my notes. Then, we’d make our way to one of the equipment rooms and assess his abilities and needs going forward.
Chapter 4
Seb
Itook a moment to observe my new physical therapist. He was a tiny little thing. I hadn’t even seen him behind Carol, and while Carol was a slight woman, she had nothing on Indy. His soft, ash brown curls sat in a tousled heap, with a few strands falling over his smooth young face. How old was this guy?
