Page 10 of Sterling Touch
“Cort?”
6
[Cort]
Fuck.
I knew this was a bad idea. Even told my doctor there was no way I was going to massage therapy.
However, my back is acting up again. When I bent for a laundry basket on the floor, my lower left side seized. It sucks getting older. I didn’t think I could stand upright and can’t say I am at a perfect ninety-degrees. More like seventy-nine. Which is the position I’m seated in—hands wrapped around the edge of the sheet-covered massage table, shoulders hunched forward, head lowered—when the door to the room opens with awhooshand Vale Sylver stumbles in.
Her wheat-under-sunshine hair is pulled into a loose bun at the base of her neck, exposing her throat, and she swallows hard as she says my name.
I attempt to sit upright, both in surprise at her rapidentrance and the suddenness of her appearance, and then wince, gripping the table beneath my hands harder.
“I—” Vale looks up at the number on the door and then back at me.
“Sorry, this room’s taken,” I snark, gritting my teeth through the sharp pain on the left side of my lower back.
“I’m . . .” Vale glances back at me, then steps forward and closes the door behind her. A giant tote is hooked over her arm. She’s wearing a plum colored, light-weight jacket while holding a travel mug in her hand. She stiffens her shoulders. “I’m your therapist.”
I scoff. She looks like any mom in a school pick-up line. Not that I’m familiar with that situation lately, but I remember how Bailey used to look. The harried appearance of a rushed morning.
“You’re kidding.” My voice is low, almost a snarl of disbelief.
Dropping her bag to the floor and stepping closer to the table, she sets her mug on the nearby counter and addresses me. “I’m not.”
Her blue eyes are wide and clear, like the waters of Sterling Falls in early morning sunlight. The liquid is pure but fierce as it cascades from the upper river to the lower one. The falls always remind me of Vale and not just because of what happened with her beside it.
Little Bee has grown into an incredible queen of strength.
“There must be some mistake.” I’m here for a massage. The doc told me once upon a time to get them regularly to help keep my back loose, but I’m not a fan of strangers touching me.
I’m actually not in favor ofanyonetouching.
And I’m really not looking forward to the possibility that Vale will lay her hands on me.
I lean forward like I intend to hop off the massage table. With my hands still gripping the edge of the table for leverage,I swing my upper body forward, and almost double over. Reaching for my lower left side, I let out an elongated, “Fuuuck.”
Vale rushes toward me, hands outward, and I snap upright, struggling to pull my shoulders back and my chest away from her. I hiss again as pain shoots across my back.
Concern fills Vale’s clear eyes. Her brows pinch, forming a divot between them. Thankfully, her hands don’t make contact with me, and she stands to her full height.
“I can get another therapist for you.” Resolve settles on her shoulders, and she drops her gaze.
“No.” As much as I’m not certain I can do this with her, I need help, and IknowI can’t do this with someone else.
Her expression shifts to something stern with a side of no-nonsense. “Then I want you to get undressed and slip under the sheet.” She points at the covering partially folded back, inviting me to slide beneath it. “Lay down on your stomach, head on the circular pillow at the end, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
With that, she spins, picks up her tote and exits the room, closing the door gently behind her.
I hang my head knowing this is a terrible idea, but a sharp pinch in my back reminds me why I’m here.
Within minutes, I undress and slide gingerly beneath the sheet, pulling it up to my chin. A light knock on the door and the soft call of my name forces me to respond, “Come in.” My voice is rougher than necessary. My throat a bit thick, both from the ache in my side and the anxious anticipation of Vale’s hands.
Vale opens the door and steps quietly inside before dimming the lights a little. She does a double take at my position before reaching for a tablet on the countertop near where she set her to-go mug.
“Why don’t you tell me why you are here today?” Her voice is controlled. She’s down to business, acting like I’m any other patient.
