Page 5 of Saving Love (Pulse Medical #2)

“If you’re comfortable––”

“I am,” Emily interrupted, cutting off whatever Bette was going to say.

She shrugged off the scrubs shirt and dropped it to the end of the bed, hyper aware of the black lacy bra she’d insisted on wearing.

Her mom always said you should dress like you might get hit by a bus—a phrase that now carried a little too much irony given her recent car accident.

But Bette barely glanced her way before she instructed Emily to lie down as if it were just another Tuesday and Emily was just another patient. Technically, she was.

“This might feel a little uncomfortable,” Bette said, guiding Emily’s arm into different positions.

She stood so close Emily could smell her perfume.

Was it citrus? Or were there hints of jasmine in there, soft and floral without being overpowering?

Whatever the scent, Emily didn’t think she’d ever smelled something that good.

It was distracting, far too distracting, frankly.

The assessment was as thorough as Emily would’ve done it if she was seeing a patient of her own.

She didn’t even mind that she had to bite the inside of her cheek once or twice when Bette had lifted and rotated her arm.

The woman’s hands were gentle, softer than she could ever imagine, and by the time Bette had stepped back, the separation felt almostjarring.

“You’ve got some tightness in the joint capsule,” Bette observed, her tone clinical. She picked up her clipboard to jot down her observations. “And your range of motion is limited, especially external rotation.”

“I’ve noticed,” Emily said sarcastically—she couldn’t help it, it was her first line of defense—but then quickly changed her tone when she found Bette staring at her. “The pain wasn’t unbearable.”

Bette nodded. “It’s quite normal for where you’re at in recovery. The good news is there’s no obvious instability in the joint. You’re still healing and as you already know, there’s still a lot of work to be done.”

Emily didn’t like the sound of “a lot of work to be done.” She wanted it done now. A quick fix so she could get back in the OR. Preferably by tomorrow.

As if Bette read her mind, she said, “We’ll focus on restoring your range of motion and strengthening the surrounding muscles. It’s not a quick fix, but it’s doable. If you put in the work.”

Emily pulled a face and then expected a lashing, but Bette only shook her head and chuckled.

“Doctors make the worst patients.” She stepped closer to the bed once more and placed her hands on Emily’s shoulder.

“Can I ask how it happened? The injury, I mean. I know it was a car accident, but there’s always more to the story, isn’t there?

” She met Emily’s eye, something flickered across those irises, and then as if she felt that she was overstepping, quickly added, “You don’t have to answer.

Really. But from my experience, I’ve learned that it’s beneficial for people to talk about what happened. Helps with the rehabilitation.”

Emily was caught slightly off guard. Most people never gave her the option to choose; they only watched her with severe curiosity in their eyes, as if begging for the details, as if they would pry it out of her like a tooth with forceps if she didn’t give it to them.

Emily stared at her hands in her lap for a moment. For some reason, she wanted to share. She wanted to tell Bette all about it. “A drunk ran a red light.”

Bette opened her mouth to say something but for some reason, Emily wanted to keep talking.

“I keep thinking about how stupid it was,” she said.

“I’d been working nonstop. Back-to-back surgeries, consults, and more paperwork than I could keep track of.

” She let out a hollow laugh. “I was exhausted, but I kept going. Told myself I had to. And then…” Emily hesitated, catching a glimpse of Bette’s brown eyes, how they looked almost golden under the harsh fluorescent light.

“I just didn’t see him, you know. If I’d just looked.

If I hadn’t been so exhausted, I would’ve double-checked and seen him––”

“You know it’s not your fault,” Bette interrupted, holding onto her gaze. “It’s the person’s fault who thought drinking before driving was a good idea. They’re the only ones to blame for this. Not you, Emily. No matter how exhausted you were.”

“I know,” she muttered softly, more to herself than Bette. “But maybe if I had just looked after myself, I could’ve kept myself safe.”

Bette was silent for a moment, just watching her, and it was that silence that made Emily feel like she could breathe a little easier.

“You’re not the first person to be hard on themselves,” Bette said after a beat. “We all do it. But you’re here, and you’re still working and that’s something.” She checked her watch, snapping back into professional mode. “Now let’s focus on the shoulder.”

The rest of the session went by in a blur.

Bette guided Emily through a series of stretches, exercises, and gentle mobilizations, explaining each step as she went.

Emily barely even felt the pain as she focused on Bette’s hands, her steady breath, and the way the soft lines beside her eyes deepened when she smiled.

“Time’s up,” Bette declared when Emily least expected.

She hadn’t been keeping track of time, hadn’t expected to feel so focused. Emily checked her watch and was shocked to see forty-five minutes had come and gone.

“Right,” she muttered, hopping off the bed a little too quickly.

She fumbled with her shirt, pulling it over her head, careful not to irritate her shoulder, and was grateful when her head didn’t get stuck.

She didn’t need that kind of attention right now.

“I’ll do those exercises,” she added, not quite catching the woman’s eye.

“I hope so,” Bette said, pulling open the curtain.

Emily hesitated, a strange pang of disappointment settling in. She didn’t want the session to end. She’d expected it to drag on forever and ever, but somehow it had been almost enjoyable.

And that was the part that caught her completely off guard.