"Carter Driscoll?" a young woman's voice calls out. I glance up to see a pretty redhead with a smattering of freckles across her adorably upturned nose. She glances at Carter and blushes, then looks confused and disappointed as she spots me.
"Yup," Carter answers, standing up. I follow him over.
"I'm Petra Ogilvy. I'll be helping you with your physical therapy," she introduces herself.
"I'm Lex. Future step-sister slash assistant," I say, thrusting my hand toward her.
"Oh, great!" she says, her countenance brightening. "Well, come on back." She escorts us into a big, open room with workout stations scattered throughout it. At each one, physical therapists are taking clients through their paces. She guides us to a pair of medicine balls and a workout bench. She and I take the balls, and Carter sits on the bench. "So, I have a set of exercises planned out that I can teach you today and you can work on at home with your sister's help." Neither of us bother to correct her. "But I just wanted to get a sense of how your leg is doing now. You just got the cast off two days ago, right?"
"Yeah. It feels sort of weak, like now and then it wants to buckle. Aches, sometimes."
"Have you been doing any physical activity?"
I quickly slap my hand over my mouth to hide my smile. "Some cardio," Carter states, his eyes darting warningly at me. "And some swimming."
"OK. You just might want to be careful to ramp up your activity gradually, so you don't stress the muscles and wind up tearing something. But why don't we get started?" She leads us over to a blue mat on the floor in a corner by the windows. "Carter, could you just roll your sweatpants up on your right leg over your knee?" He bends over and does so, revealing the red skin underneath. "Your doctor has given you a topical ointment I assume?"
"Yeah," Carter replies, succinct as ever.
"Let's start with some stretching," she says. "Why don't you lay down on your back here?" she says waving her arm to the mat. She kneels as he lies down and picks up his right foot. "So, Lex, I'm going to place his foot on my right shoulder here, and then keeping his knee straight, I'm going to press forward," she says. Carter winces slightly as she pushes against his leg, making it less than halfway toward his chest. I feel an uncomfortable burning sensation in my chest as I watch her pressed up against him. My eyes search Carter's face, but his gaze is fixed firmly on the ceiling. "Why don't you try on the left side?"
She moves away and I take up the same position, picking up Carter's left foot and placing it on my shoulder. I press forward, and his hip rotates easily. His hamstring muscles in this leg are much more flexible than those in his right. I continue to lean forward, finding myself bending over his chest until my eyes find his. I can see a beads of sweat forming along his brow, and he carefully sucks in a measured breath.
"Now, it's important to be able to feel his limits. You don't want to push him too far," Petra warns me.
"Oh, don't worry. He can take it," I reply lightly as I stare back at Carter. His mouth twitches, and I finally release him, moving slowly back and then laying his leg on the mat.
"Good," Petra says, though she sounds a bit unsure. "I think you've chosen a good helper here, Carter. I don't think she'll let you get away with anything."
"That sounds like an accurate assessment," Carter replies drily.
"OK, some more stretching, and then we'll move on to exercises," Petra says, clapping her hands together.
By the end of the afternoon, Carter has worked up quite a sweat. I make notes on the sheets of exercises complete with pictures that Petra has supplied, and fold them carefully inside the bag filled with exercise bags that she sends us home with. I might be royally pissed at Carter, but that doesn’t mean I'm going to be responsible for him having a permanent limp.
Carter drives us home, and I leave the garage and head for the boat house without a word. If I'm not physically torturing him, then I really have no desire to interact with him right now. I glance around my room, and with a sigh, pick up a folder from the top drawer of my desk. I've been putting it off for too long. I grab my sunglasses and cell phone and walk back down the steps toward the pool. At least I'll let my feet dangle in the water while I take care of some unpleasant business.
I stop short as I see Carter standing five feet from my door, waiting impassively. "What are you doing?" I grumble.
"Providing security."
"I'm at home!"
"If you could supply me with your schedule, that would be helpful."
"I don't have a schedule!" I snap at him, waiting for him to leave. But he just keeps on staring at me with that infuriatingly calm expression. "I'm going to sit by the pool and make some phone calls, OK?" I say with an exasperated sigh, and step around him toward the patio.