Page 11 of Coming to Grips
Blinks.
“What?” He doesn’t harbor, has never harbored, any of the confusion or worry or fear Kyle had said he’d experienced when he was struggling with the question of his sexual orientation.
“You heard me.” The vulnerable, deluded Anna is definitely gone now. In her place stands crazy Anna with the glittery eyes and the voice of stone.
“I’m not gay, and it’s time for you to go now.”
Anna scoffs but doesn’t make to move. “Okay…”
Kyle’s boots sound on the porch. Relief fills Chase.
“Chase, you ready?” Kyle calls as he walks through the door dripping wet. His hair sticks up in furrowed spikes from where he’s probably just run his hands through it like a squeegee. His soaked shirt molds to the contours of his well-defined chest.
Kyle stops short and frowns. He glances from Anna to Chase and raises an eyebrow. “Everything all right?”
“Anna was just leaving.”
With a final glare at Chase, she stomps out.
“You okay?” Kyle asks.
Chase nods. “I think she finally got the message, although she wasn’t happy about it.”
“That wasn’t what I asked. Areyouokay?”
Anna thinks he’s gay, but other than that…
“I’m...” Chase does a gut check; the tension is gone and his head feels a little light, but otherwise… He nods again. “I’m okay.”
Kyle eyes him for a moment before nodding once too. “Let me change my shirt and I’ll make lunch. Can you turn the oven on?” he asks as he disappears into his room.
“Yeah.” Chase pulls the bag of pre-made biscuits from the freezer, scans for the oven temp and cranks the dial.
* * *
They arrive at the rehab clinic in the pouring down rain, and Chase is definitely glad he wore his sweats. There’s an overhang on the front of the building and Kyle drops him off beneath it. He finds a nearby parking slot and hustles across the short expanse of asphalt without getting too soaked again.
Tabitha gets down to business without much fanfare and Chase is grateful to have his mind taken over by something besides Anna’s accusations and his gimp hand. Tabitha’s polite, but no nonsense. They work through close to a dozen exercises. Some, like the ones he’d learned the other day, are meant to keep the working muscles conditioned and strong. Some are designed to train him how to compensate when he needs two hands, and the rest are meant to stimulate the damaged nerves.
Chase gets clumsy and slow quickly, yesterday’s efforts finally coming back to bite him in the ass. Tabitha remains pleasant and patient with him even when he grouses. By the end of the hour, his heart is thumping, a sheen of sweat irritates his forehead, and wetness has gathered around his armpits, but his elbow tingles a little. Tabitha is pleased by that.
“What about massage?” Kyle asks as they get ready to leave. “When I was in high school and had PT on my leg, they brought in someone a couple of times a week. It made a huge difference. Chase’s injury is different from mine, so I didn’t know if it would be appropriate.”
Tabitha smiles and makes notes on Chase’s chart. “No, no, massage would be great. After today’s workout, Chase could probably use a good massage. It’ll benefit the working muscles more than the non-working ones, since they’re working harder now,” she says, looking at Chase. “I know these new exercises were tough.”
Chase snorts. He’s sweating like a glass of ice water condensating in the August heat. He’d shucked the sweats about a third of the way through the session, much to his surprise.
“Here’s a list of the new exercises and links to YouTube videos that demonstrate them if you forget how they work.” Tabitha hands a sheet of paper to Kyle who folds it up and slides it into a back pocket. “I don’t think Ten Rigs has a massage place, but Snyder might, and there are all kinds of options here in Big Spring. Okay, so—we’ll see you boys Wednesday at three o’clock. Chase, just like before, you need to work through these twice a day, all right?”
Chase groans, but nods. More than anything, he wants to get back to work. So whatever it takes. If this afternoon is anything to go by, though, he’ll be expending more energy in a PT session than he actually does working. Going back to wrangling’ll be a snap in comparison to rehab.
“I know it sucks, cutie, but they’re all designed to keep you in shape and to make sure you can go back to your life and livelihood. That’s the goal.” She pats him on the shoulder. “Hang tough.”
“I know, I know.”
“You’re not doing too much for him, are you?” She turns questioning eyes on Kyle.
He holds up his hands as if in surrender. “No, ma’am. He dresses himself except shoes and socks.”
“I sound like a two-year-old,” Chase grumbles, but all things considered, he’s been managing pretty well.
“No, no, that’s great,” says Tabitha. “Now get out of here so I can go have dinner with my daughter before my next appointment. See you boys in a couple of days.”
Chase follows Kyle down the hall toward the front of the clinic. He’s beat and ready for something to eat. A massage does sound heavenly right about now, but he just wants to go home, eat, and crash.
“Well, hey, Kyle. What are you doing here?” asks a voice Chase recognizes with a tightening in his gut.
It belongs to one of Kyle’s old boyfriends.
