Chapter 19

Eli's POV

“Do I see you eavesdropping on patients?” He asked with his arms folded.

“No.” I said quickly, straightening my scrubs. “I was just about to go in.”

Dr. Broome gave me a knowing look and tapped me on my shoulder before walking away. I knocked on the door briefly and opened with my best professional smile plastered on my face.

“Good morning.”

Adam looked up and for a split second something changed in his expression. His eyes moved over my face and then they fell to the clipboard in my hand.

“Eli.” He said, trying to adjust into a comfortable position.

I cleared my throat. “Adam.”

Mrs. Payne looked between us. “Well,” she said, standing and adjusting her dress. “I will leave you two to it.”

She walked over to the door and touched my arm. “It's so good to see you again, Eli.”

I swallowed. “You too, Mrs. Payne.”

She gave me a smile that felt suspiciously knowing.

Then she turned to Adam. “You better behave yourself.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “I'm in a hospital bed. How much misbehavior am I actually allowed?”

“I know but I still feel the need to say it.” I laughed before I could stop myself and Adam looked at me with a smile.

It was small, uncertain and almost shy. It did something strange to my insides. Mrs. Payne left, closing the door softly behind her and the silence that she left behind was awkward.

I turned around to Adam and lifted my clipboard. “So?”

“So.” He echoed.

“Congratulations.”

His brows went up. “Why are you congratulating me?”

“I heard you got on your own two feet. Apparently, you have decided to become a functioning member of society once again.”

He snorted. “Don't get ahead of yourself, Eli. I was barely standing for, like what, thirty seconds?”

“Thirty seconds, " I said with an exaggerated air. “That is literally an Olympic record.”

“Are you usually this annoying with your patients?”

I shrugged. “Only the ones who deserve it, and you, Adam…” I said, placing my clipboard down. “You deserve it.”

His smile widened and the tension in my chest loosened just a little. This felt like familiar territory. The teasing, banter, and the comfortable rhythm we had started developing. Before I could convince myself that this interaction could lead into something dangerous, I moved towards the bed.

“Let me see what you've got.”

“That is a terrible opening line, " he said, his face creased in disgust and I glared at him.

He stared back and our eyes remained on each other for a second before the realization hit both of us.

I looked away first and cleared my throat. “I mean your mobility.”

“Obviously.” he said.

“Obviously,” I echoed. I was going to kill him or myself, maybe just save the world and kill us both.

“We'll begin with an assessment, " I said, adopting a tone so professional it could be used in a medical YouTube video. “Tell me if you experience any unusual pain.”

“Unusual compared to what?”

“Adam,” I said firmly.

“Eli?” he asked, dragging my name. I looked at him and he grinned.

I hated that I noticed how the corner of his eyes creased and how much I loved to see him smile. And I hated that he seemed to notice.

“I might have to start charging you extra for being difficult.”

“Charge away, I can afford you.” he said.

I gave him a look and he laughed, the sound filling the room. I almost forgot we were in a hospital, but then I remembered why we were there and my expression softened.

I placed a hand on his shoulder. “How are you feeling today? Honestly?”

His smile faded a little. “Better than yesterday, at least.”

“Any sharp pain?”

“Nope.”

“Dizziness?”

“No.”

“Shortness of breath?”

“No.”

“Are you lying to me?”

His brows creased and he looked offended. “I would never.”

The word landed between both of us and I took a deep breath. “You once told me you were fine even when you could barely stand.”

“That was different,” he argued.

“How?” I pouted.

“I was trying to impress you.”

We stared at each other. Adam's mouth opened and then closed. I felt heat rush up my neck and he looked away first.

“Well,” I said, forcing myself to check something on my clipboard even though there was nothing. “That was very stupid.”

“I agree.”

“Don't do it again.”

“Whatever you say, doctor.”

I looked up from my clipboard to see him watching me, and it was not with the teasing expression that he had worn moments ago. There was something more careful in his eyes, something that made me think he was trying to tell me more than he knew how to say.

I looked away. I had to be professional. I straightened my back and began with the assessment, checking his range of movement and asking him to perform a few gentle movements within the limits Dr. Broome had set.

I paid attention to his posture, the way he braced himself whenever a movement caused discomfort and his breathing.

Adam was frustratingly determined to prove that everything was fine.

“Tell me if that hurts, " I said when I noticed his face contort with pain.

“It doesn't,” he said through gritted teeth.

I raised a brow and he sighed. “Maybe just a little.”

“A little where?”

He pointed and I adjusted his posture. “Better?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You have to be honest with me. We are going to need a lot of that during our sessions.”

“I'm trying not to make a habit of it.”

I shook my head and he smiled again. I moved around the bed to help him reposition his leg. The movement required me to lean closer, one hand supporting him while the other guided his knee into a comfortable position.

His skin was warm beneath my fingers and I became embarrassed at how close we were. His breath caught and I heard it so I looked at his face.

“Pain?”

“No,” he stuttered.

“Then why did you stop breathing?”

“You're distracting me,” he said. I opened my mouth slightly but no words came out. The room seemed to shrink around us.

My hand was still resting against his leg and I should have moved it but I didn't. There was no professional reason to keep it there. Instead, I became aware of every point where our skins touched: my fingers against his skin, my knees brushing the side of the mattress, and his hand gripping the sheet beside mine.

I moved first, adjusting his leg a fraction higher and my fingers slid further than I intended, brushing the inside of his thigh. Adam went completely still, and so did I. The contact had lasted barely half a second, and it was an accident. A perfect, awkward accident that happened every day at work, but it made my brain stop.

“Sorry,” I said quickly.

“It's fine,” he said. His voice had gone rough. I concentrated very hard on the angle of his leg so I wouldn't think about anything else.

“Tell me if anything hurts.”

“Eli?” He grabbed my hand.

“What?”

“I am fine,” he said firmly.

I looked up, and his expression was open in a way that I had not seen before. There was no smirk or joke waiting to jump from behind the sleeves. It was just Adam looking at me as if he was trying to decide whether he could trust me with something.

My chest tightened and I stepped back.

“Great, then let's keep going.”

He nodded and neither of us said a word of what had just happened. We finished the assessment and moved on to the exercises Doctor Broome had approved.

I kept my instructions clear and my hands were where they needed to be. Adam followed them with more patience than I had expected even though he tried his best to push beyond the limits I set.

“That's enough.” I told him.

“I think I can do another.”

“You can do another when your body is ready for another.”

“It's my body,” he said, shaking his head

“And it feels just fine.”

“Your body will not be making the decisions today.”

He gave me a look that was harsh. For a while, the session was easy. We spoke between exercises and he complained about being stuck in the hospital and complained about patients who thought physiotherapy was a competition. He told me about the video that Jay had sent him of the team celebrating their win, and without thinking, I asked if he had cried. His expression changed into something dark so quickly that I wished that I could take it back. I apologized.

He shook his head. “It's fine,” he said but his voice was quiet in a way that I knew it wasn't.

I knew what it felt like to have something important taken away from you and then be expected to carry on like you had lost nothing at all. I also knew Adam wasn't a man who was used to being helpless. He was used to having something to work towards, something he could control through discipline and effort. But recovery, unfortunately, didn't work that way.

“You'll get there,” I said quietly.

He looked at me. “You don't know that.”

His honesty sliced deeply. I swallowed. “Yeah, I don't.”

His gaze dropped. “Sadly. But I know you have to figure it out one day, just not today.”

He nodded and that was the first time all morning that he had not tried to argue with me.

My phone buzzed while I was updating his notes and I glanced at the screen before looking away. It buzzed again and I ignored it. A third notification appeared and I closed my eyes briefly before picking it up. It was a reminder for my mortgage payment.

My stomach dropped as I opened the message. The payment was overdue and there was a notice about the outstanding balance, a reminder of the date and warning about the consequences of not paying. I read it, hoping the numbers would change but they didn't. I locked my phone.

The hospital's own room seemed to grow louder around me, the faint hum of the equipment and the distant squeak of a trolley in the corridor, with Adam shifting on the bed. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn't look back at him.

“Are you okay?” I looked up quickly.

“Fine. Yeah, I'm fine.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “I can tell when something's wrong with you.”

I grunted but didn't say anything.

“Should I be worried?”

“Like I said, Adam, I am fine.”

I put the phone away and returned to my notes. “Let's finish up.”

“Eli.”

I kept my eyes on the clipboard. “What are you hiding? What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“That was like the third time you have said that, and I refuse to agree.”

“Well, congratulations that your counting skills are improving as well as your walking skills. I will make sure to add that to your recovery notes.”

He didn't smile, and I hated that I could tell that I was trying to avoid the conversation.

“I just have some things to sort out,” I said finally.

“Do you need help?”

The question was simple and it shouldn't have affected me, but it did, because Adam was willing to help me.

“No, thank you. It's just my mortgage.”

“How much is the house you want again?”