5 Bikers for Valentines

ive me a chance. He shoved himself away from the table, making his chair slam to the floor as he moved. Without a word, he marched out of the cafeteria.

I sat alone at that table, staring at the place he’d been. I knew he was heading up to his office where he could be alone and calm down before the day truly began. I thought about following him, but I couldn’t move. My legs felt like lead, cemented to the cafeteria floor.

My head was spinning, and my stomach churned uncomfortably. It was just a conversation, one conversation, and yet, it felt like the end of something. If I couldn’t make my father understand my relationship with Caleb, how could I tell him about my cancer? How could I possibly trust him to understand when he couldn’t even accept my boyfriend?

Cathy had been so sure everything would work out. She left the PT building on Saturday full of confidence. She even made me believe things would be okay. I thought she would be able to make my father see sense.

Now I was ready to give up. My temples were throbbing, and a shooting pain in my stomach told me a headache was coming on. I groaned and quickly jumped to my feet. I threw away the trash from our breakfast and ran through the hospital. I didn’t slow down until I reached the PT building.

Thankfully, it was still empty. I barely made it to the trashcan before I heaved. My breakfast flew into the trash, and my head pounded mercilessly. I groaned and fell to my knees. Caleb was right, I needed my dad. I needed his support, and after our talk, I didn’t think I would ever get it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - CALEB

Dr. McGee kept us waiting for half an hour. This appointment was my final one before I could be cleared for duty. I was done sitting at home while my buddies were out every day, risking their lives, fighting fires, and saving people. I belonged with them, not on my damn couch. I couldn’t wait to get the all-clear, but after sitting in Dr. McGee’s office for twenty minutes, my patience was wearing thin.

I stood up and paced around the room. Tara was sitting in front of Dr. McGee’s desk. She was slumped in the chair, her shoulders sagging and her eyes red with exhaustion. She had another headache the day before. It knocked her on her ass and left her in bed all day. I hated how much pain she was in, but I was glad today seemed to be easier. Other than being tired, she felt fine. Or so she said. Her facial expression told me something different.

“Is it your head again?” I asked. “Or something else?”

“I feel good today,” she said. “No pain.”

She hadn’t answered my question, but I wasn’t able to push her. Dr. McGee stepped inside the office and pulled the door closed behind him. He smiled at us and moved to sit behind his desk.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the chair I’d abandoned.

I sat down and wiped my hands on my jeans. I was nervous but mostly just excited. I knew I was kicking ass at my PT, so there wasn’t any reason for me to avoid work any longer.

“So,” Dr. McGee said. “I went over your x-rays, and after our physical exam yesterday, I’m confident that everything is healing properly.”

“That’s great,” I said eagerly. “So I can get back to work?”

“Well,” Dr. McGee said, “I don’t see why not.”

“Hell yes!” I cheered.

“But,” Dr. McGee said quickly and loudly, “I want you to continue with you PT for another month.”

My eyes flicked over to Tara. She was sitting up straight now, her eyes focused on me. She hadn’t mentioned anything about continuous physical therapy.

“Why?” I asked with a frown. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all,” Dr. McGee said. “We just want to keep it that way.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. Something didn’t feel right. “But if I’m fine, then why is it necessary to continue?”

“Because it’ll allow me to monitor your recovery,” Tara said. Her voice was firm and authoritative, the way it always was when she slipped into PT mode. “Dr. McGee and I both want to ensure everything progresses properly. You can go back to work, but your chief will have to decide how active you are.”

“But I can work?” I asked, wanting to make sure.

“Yes,” Dr. McGee said. “You can work.”

I grinned and slapped my knee. I was beyond thrilled. I couldn’t wait to get back to the fire station. A piece of me had been missing for over a month. I was ready to get it back.

“Thank you, Dr. McGee,” I said. I stood up to shake his hand.

“It’s Tara you should thank,” Dr. McGee said. “Good physical therapists are hard to come by. We’re lucky she’s here.”

“Trust me, I know.”