Don't Whistle Past the Graveyard

Ch. Three

I rubbed at my eyes and sighed, trying to finish my chipolte chicken salad before Shane showed up. The day had been rough already. Some of my patients seemed a little more argumentative than usual, but I suppose when you're learning how to walk again that's your right.

I had ended up working longer with a patient than I'd meant to. I couldn't help it. She had just been so motivated I hadn't wanted to let that go to waste.

So I'd ended up working away the majority of the time I had allotted for lunch and was trying to get some food in at least. I didn't work well when I was hungry.

Now you're looking at me like I'm crazy and I know what you're thinking. Aren't we always hungry now? The answer is yeah. The trick is just learning how to be hungry.

I finished the last bit of deliciously spicy chicken and looked at the clock, swearing. It had taken me way longer than I thought it would to inhale some food. I frowned when I realized that Shane was late.

Shane was never late.

Actually, he was usually early. I stood up, peering over the receptionist's counter to look into the small waiting area. I thought that maybe Shane had slipped in without me noticing, which was unlikely considering he was a pretty big guy, and was waiting on me but he wasn't up front either.

Worry creased my forehead as I sat back down at my desk. I picked up his folder to check that he was, in fact, scheduled for today.

The words stared up at me: two o'clock on Wednesday, the thirteenth of September. That was today except now it was 2:20 and Shane still hadn't shown up. I waited another ten minutes and sighed, wondering if he had just rescheduled and I'd forgotten.

Just as I was thinking about seeing if my next patient was maybe early and I could just get started with them, Shane burst through the door, startling the receptionist.

He hustled into the room, stopping in front of me. I noticed that his limp was a little more pronounced than usual and looked up at him, my mouth sliding into a frown.

"Did you run up here?" I asked crossing my arms in a disapproving way. He wasn't scheduled to start running for another two weeks at the least.

Shane grimaced and sat on the nearest table, rubbing absently at his left leg. "Sorry I'm late, Doc. Hospital seems busy today. The parking lot was slammed."

"You didn't answer my question," I said, raising an eyebrow.

Shane grinned a little sheepishly. "Let's call it a jog. I wanted to get at least a little work in today." His stormy blue-grey eyes watched me apprehensively.

Standing up, I stood in front of him, arms still crossed. "And how did that feel?"

By the way he was leaning a little to the right and still rubbing at his leg, I already had a pretty good idea.

But Shane was a Marine. So he shrugged and said, "Didn't hurt too bad." With a grin he pointed at the scar tissue on his exposed calf and bicep. "I've had worse."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help a smile. Shaking my head I said, "No more running for now. Got that?"

Shane smiled back and said, "You got it, Doc."

I went back to my desk and picked up his folder, flipping through my notes from his session last week. Really it was just a way to keep from staring at him too much.

Like I said, you've seen him. You might not like him very much but you can still admit that he's a good looking guy. Well, I don't know, maybe he's just not your kind of attractive. From that expression I'm thinking you like prettier boys.