Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
We've spent the last two days wrapped up in each other. I felt like death for most of Christmas, but yesterday I was functioning again. I was too much of a coward to come to work, though. Instead, I called out and stayed in bed with Trent.
I have no regrets.
I am nervous as hell, though. I am not, and never have been, subtle. The whole world is going to know about us sooner rather than later, probably because of something I say or do. And then things will get crazy.
I'll no longer be Trent Kirk's socially-awkward, anxiety-ridden physical therapist. I'll be the socially-awkward, anxiety-ridden physical therapist sleeping in his bed. I mean, I'm already that, but the rest of the world doesn't know it yet. They will soon.
My fantasies never covered that part of the equation. Things like reality didn't exist when he was only fucking me in my dreams. But it exists now.
I'm sure it'll be okay somehow, but my anxiety is loud.
Liz spots me from the far end of the PT suite and comes rushing in my direction. She has two band-aids on her knuckles and a lipstick shade so dark it's almost black, but her eyes are as bright as her smile. She's also double-fisting candy canes, because Liz is a goddamn champion.
"Merry Christmas, you little genius," she drawls, circling me like a cat. "I'm surprised you're walking straight today."
I want to crawl into the nearest supply closet and die, but I try for a neutral expression. "Merry Christmas. Why do you look like you mugged the Ghost of Christmas Future?"
She flicks a candy cane at me, making me giggle. "Worry about yourself, lady. I have questions."
"Why am I not surprised?"
She beams at me. "Did you actually take Trent to the ER, or did you just try mouth-to-cock resuscitation while playing nurse?"
"Both," I say, and then instantly want to bite off my own tongue. She's never going to let me live that down. Ever.
Liz cackles, then throws an arm around my shoulder and hauls me deeper into the suite. "After you rushed him out of here, the entire team was convinced you'd quit. And then one of the rookies started taking bets on how long it'd take for you two to end up in bed together. Then someone sent pictures of the two of you at Colt's party to the staff group chat on Christmas Eve. When you called out yesterday, the other therapists started taking bets on how long it'll be before you turn up pregnant."
If there's a prize for most traumatic workplace romance, Trent and I just might win it at this rate.
"We need to destroy that group chat," I groan, letting her drag me past the break room, which smells like someone tried and failed to cook bacon in a Keurig.
She ignores me and pulls out her phone, scrolling with one thumb. "It's everywhere, Dani. The locker room. The staff lounge. Even the Zamboni guy placed a bet."
I roll my eyes, but my stomach is in knots. "So, what you're saying is that I'm basically screwed and should immediately start packing my stuff."
"No," Liz says, her voice softening. "No one's mad. Honestly, everyone thinks the whole thing is kind of hilarious. The only person who's even mildly pissed is Coach, and that's just because I think he's only just figuring out that Trent has been faking his back pain for weeks just to see you."
She opens the door to my office and practically tosses me inside, then parks herself on a little rolling stool, arms crossed, waiting for me to spill all the details.
I drop my bag on the floor and sink into my chair, hugging myself because if I don't, I might shake apart. "It doesn't even feel real, Liz. I mean, it is. It's definitely real. But I don't even know if I'm allowed to have a real thing."
She snorts. "You're allowed to have whatever you want, unless it's a positive attitude before 10 a.m. In which case, you're dead to me."
I laugh, then look down at my hands, nails chewed to shit and cuticles a disaster. "I'm in love with him," I admit, my voice so low I barely hear it myself.
Liz is silent for a second, which in Liz-time is basically an eternity.
She leans in, her eyes wide. "Did you just say love?"
I nod.
"Holy shit," she whispers, and for once, there's nothing but awe on her face. "You're really in love with Trent Kirk."
"Yes," I say, a little louder this time. "I just… I never thought it would happen this way. Or ever, honestly." I blink wide eyes at her. "He wasn't supposed to love me back."
She's quiet for another beat, then reaches over and squeezes my forearm. "Of course he loves you back. Are you nuts? That man is wild about you. And, honestly, if they try to fire you over this, I'll set the place on fire. We'll open a bootleg PT clinic in the back of a donut shop or something. I'm serious."