I’m Not Leaving

Emilia

“This is going to be a disaster.”

Leo’s words lingered in the rehabilitation room long after the silence settled.

Grace Bennett didn’t even blink.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“It will be if she stays.”

“I’m staying.”

The words slipped out before I had time to second-guess them.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward me.

Leo actually laughed.

“You’ve always been stubborn.”

I folded my arms.

“And you’ve always been arrogant.”

His smile vanished.

For a brief second, I saw something flash across his face.

Regret.

It disappeared almost instantly.

Grace cleared her throat.

“I’ll leave the two of you to discuss your working relationship.”

Leo shot her a look.

“There is no working relationship.”

“There will be.”

Without another word, Grace walked out.

Arthur followed her.

The door clicked shut.

Now it was just us.

For the first time in eleven years.

Neither of us spoke.

Leo leaned against the treatment table, watching me with narrowed eyes.

I’d spent the drive here imagining this moment.

I’d imagined screaming at him.

Demanding to know if he remembered all the names his friends called me.

Asking whether he’d ever regretted laughing while I stood alone in the rain with tears streaming down my face.

Instead…

I felt tired.

“So,” he finally said.

“You’re really a doctor.”

“A physiotherapist.”

“Close enough.”

I ignored the comment and opened his medical file.

“How’s your pain today?”

“I’m not discussing that with you.”

“I wasn’t asking as Emilia.”

I looked up.

“I was asking as your physiotherapist.”

He smirked.

“I’ll wait for the replacement.”

“There isn’t one.”

“We’ll see.”

“We already have.”

Silence.

He hated not getting the last word.

Good.

I walked toward the rehabilitation equipment.

“Let’s begin with a physical assessment.”

“I’m not doing one.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I absolutely do.”

“You signed a treatment agreement.”

“You signed an employment contract.”

He folded his arms.

“I can make your job impossible.”

I smiled politely.

“I’ve noticed.”

For a moment…

He almost smiled back.

Almost.

“Take off the brace.”

“No.”

“If you don’t, I can’t examine the knee.”

“I said no.”

I closed the file.

“Fine.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“Fine?”

“I’ll write in today’s report that the patient refused medical assessment against professional advice.”

His expression changed immediately.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I absolutely would.”

“You realize that report goes to my team?”

“Yes.”

“My sponsors?”

“Yes.”

“My insurance company?”

“Yes.”

He stared.

“You fight dirty.”

“No.”

I met his eyes.

“I document facts.”

Another long silence.

Then…

With an annoyed sigh…

He unclipped the brace.

“There.”

“Thank you.”

“You sound pleased.”

“I am.”

“I hate that.”

“I know.”

As I knelt in front of him to examine his knee, I forced myself to focus only on the injury.

Not the man.

The swelling was worse than I expected.

His quadriceps had already begun weakening.

There was stiffness along the joint line.

He inhaled sharply when my fingers reached the inside of his knee.

“You’ve been overworking it.”

“I’ve been walking.”

“You’ve been training.”

“No.”

I looked up.

He looked away.

“I know the difference.”

He stayed silent.

“I asked if you’ve been training.”

“…Maybe.”

My jaw tightened.

“Leo.”

“What?”

“You could undo weeks of healing.”

“I have a championship to think about.”

“You have a knee to think about.”

“I’ll recover faster if I keep moving.”

“No.”

“You don’t know athletes.”

I stood.

“No.”

“I know anatomy.”

The argument continued for nearly twenty minutes.

Every recommendation I made…

He challenged.

Every instruction…

He questioned.

Every exercise…

He criticized.

Finally…

I’d had enough.

“You know what your biggest problem is?”

He folded his arms.

“Go ahead.”

“You think being famous makes you invincible.”

His jaw flexed.

“And you know what yours is?”

“What?”

“You still think you know everything.”

“I know enough.”

“You always did.”

The words landed harder than either of us expected.

Always.

The room became painfully quiet.

Because we both knew he wasn’t talking about physiotherapy anymore.

He was talking about high school.

I slowly closed my notebook.

“I didn’t come here to settle old scores.”

“Neither did I.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Another silence.

Different this time.

Less angry.

More…

Awkward.

Leo rubbed the back of his neck.

“I didn’t expect…”

He stopped.

“What?”

“You.”

“I gathered.”

“No.”

He sighed.

“I mean…”

His voice lowered.

“I didn’t expect to ever see you again.”

Neither had I.

Before either of us could say another word, someone knocked on the rehabilitation room door.

Eleanor stepped inside with a warm smile.

“Lunch is ready.”

Leo immediately stepped away from me.

“I’ll eat later.”

She frowned.

“You skipped breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You also skipped dinner yesterday.”

“I’m fine.”

“No,” I said before I could stop myself.

Both of them looked at me.

I crossed my arms.

“You’re not.”

Leo sighed dramatically.

“Oh, great.”

“What?”

“Now there are two people telling me what to do.”

Eleanor chuckled.

“I like her.”

Leo groaned.

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

For the first time since arriving at the Vance Estate…

I smiled.

And for the briefest moment…

I could have sworn Leo was trying not to smile too.