The therapy room smelled like a gym and a hospital had a baby—rubber mats, sweat, too much disinfectant. I was on the mat, back braced against the wall, and Riley was crouched beside me, hands on my leg, pushing my knee just past the point of comfort.
“Ouch, that hurts,” I hissed, trying not to let the pain tighten my voice too much.
She didn’t even blink. “Sorry, but you need to be able to do that.”
Her hand stayed firm against my calf—professional, precise, brutal. I looked up at her and tried to smirk through the grimace. “You’re cruel, Morgan.”
“Only when you need it,” she shot back, voice light, but I could tell—she wasn’t just annoyed at my body. She was still pissed. Probably at me. Probably for all of it.
I gave her a look. “Are you going to keep bringing that up? It wasn’t my fault. The former PT said I was good to go. You’re just bitter because I didn’t listen to you.”
“And you’re stubborn because you think you’re invincible,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m invincible enough.”
Her voice sharpened, “Invincible enough to end up on a stretcher.”
That one landed. I swallowed and looked away, shrugging like it didn’t matter. But she caught it. She always caught it.
Still, the rhythm between us was back—the push and pull, the jabs that felt like foreplay to forgiveness. Our kind of dance.
She moved closer to adjust my knee again, and for a second, the air shifted. It wasn’t just about rehab anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time.
Then came the throat clear. And Riley froze.
We both turned toward the doorway like kids caught sneaking out.
Zara and Raphina stood there, arms folded, grinning like they’d walked in on a soap opera.
“Are we interrupting something?” Zara asked, smirking.
“Absolutely not,” Riley and I said in perfect unison.
Raphina raised his eyebrows at me. “Just checking in to see how you’re doing, man.”
“She is abusing me,” I said, pointing to Riley with mock horror.
“More like saving your ass,” she muttered.
They both laughed. Loud. Too loud.
“Get together already,” Zara teased.
Riley choked. “What?! We’re just doctor and patient.”
Zara didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, and Raphina and I are just besties.”
“Besties who fuck,” Raphina added with a grin—and immediately got smacked by Zara.
Zara reached into her bag and pulled out a pizza box like it was the Holy Grail. “Anyway, we brought dinner. Don’t starve.”
Then, with twin smirks and zero shame, they disappeared.
Riley and I looked at each other. Then at the pizza.
“Hungry?” she asked.
“Starving,” I said.
We dug in, and for once, everything felt easy. The crust was warm, the cheese stretchy, and Riley looked like herself again—eyes softer, lips curved into a real smile.
I took a giant bite and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Remember that time in high school when I tried to impress you by wearing that ridiculous leather jacket?”
She laughed instantly. “Oh god, yes! You looked like you walked straight out of an ’80s movie.”
“Hey, it worked… for about five minutes.”
“Until you tripped over your own feet in the hallway,” she added, grinning.
I groaned. “Classic.”
She smirked. “Alright, what about your infamous haircut? That bowl cut? I swear, it was worse than mine.”
I caught the slice of pizza she flung at me mid-air. “That was a style! You just didn’t get it.”
“Sure,” she said, laughing. “Style.”
We laughed together—real, unforced, like nothing had broken between us at all. Like we’d just paused.
Then her voice dropped, a little softer. “Remember those late-night talks in the parking lot after practice?”
My smile dipped. “How could I forget? You telling me all your secrets like I was the only one who could listen.”
“You were,” she said.
For a moment, we just sat there in the quiet, the kind of quiet that says everything.
“Maybe we can have those times again,” I said.
She looked at me, that guarded expression slipping, something more open rising behind her eyes.
And I just said it. No buildup. No dramatic speech.
“Riles… do you want to go on a date with me? Just you and me. Like old times.”
She didn’t answer right away. Just stared at me like she was weighing everything—her career, her pride, her pain. And still… she smiled.
“Yeah. I think I’d like that.”