One Step Forward

Chapter 3. Keeping It Professional

Mya's POV

Again, Lincoln was at the top of my client list. Hopeful that he would show up and things would go smoother after we had time to wear off from the shock of seeing each other again, I walked to the waiting room.

This time, I didn't see him, so I said his name loud and clear in case I somehow missed him. "Lincoln Rider?"

There was nothing in response, so I turned and headed back. The weird thing was it showed on the screen that he had checked in. I gazed around a moment longer. A bathroom door opened, and I spun around. Lincoln came out of the bathroom with his nurse pushing him. 

"Good morning," I greeted. "Are we good to go?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

The nurse smiled at me. "See you when you're done, Linc," she said, patting his shoulder. She was young, blonde, and beautiful. Easy to see he wasn't lying about hot nurses. However, his eyes were on me, and he ignored her gesture.

"Where to, doc?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not a doctor. Just a physical therapist."

"Just," he snorted. "Well, it's more than I did with my life."

I chuckled as I pushed him back to a small private room before we entered the big gym where I'd be working with him soon.

"I thought we were doing workouts?" he asked, confused, and gestured behind him in the direction of the gym.

"We will be. First, I want to collect some information from you and try a few things back here."

"You're the boss."

I chuckled.

"You like that, don't you?" Linc always said I was bossy.

"Of course," I joked.

I wheeled him into the room that was for my use with patients. I sat on a chair facing my computer and had him next to me. He stared at me, making me self-conscious, but I ignored it. I wasn't the type to get self-conscious. Only Lincoln could make me feel that way, and I wasn't sure how he did it. Usually, I was good at ignoring stares, but he was burning a hole right through me.

I inhaled deeply to calm my nerves, and his scent hit me when I did. He smelled exactly the way I remembered, but remembering how a person smelt and living it again is powerful. Yesterday, I was so out of sorts I didn't pay attention. Today, however, I was physically and emotionally aware of his presence. 

"So, um, it was a motorcycle accident that caused this?"

"Yes."

"Your file says you were going a hundred miles per hour and lost control," I stated. 

"I guess." The way he said it didn't come out remotely confident. 

"Is that not correct?"

He cleared his throat. "No, that's right. About the gist of it anyway."

"Okay. . ." I trailed off. I felt like there was something he wasn't telling me, but I didn't want to pry. Professionally, I only needed the facts. It says he had no passengers either, and there was no alcohol or drugs in his system at the time of the accident.

"Does any of this really matter?"

"Yes, it kind of does. I have to know what caused all of this in order to treat you best. I have to have my facts clear."

"Fine, whatever," he muttered.

"It says here you went down an embankment, flipped off the bike, and hit a tree. You suffered from blunt force trauma to the head. You weren't wearing a helmet?" As I read the last part about not wearing a helmet, it came out like a question because I was in disbelief at that. Lincoln always wore a helmet.