Chapter 26 Chapter 26
Emily's POV
The training room felt smaller today but it wasn't. The same equipment lined the walls, the same resistance bands hung in color-coded order, the same therapy table sat in the center, waiting. Nothing had changed except me.
I stood by the counter, reviewing Noah’s rehab chart for the third time in five minutes. His progress was consistent and steady. It was exactly how I liked it. So why couldn’t I focus?
I tapped the tablet lightly, trying to redirect my thoughts.
Range of motion was improving.
Stability was moderate.
Pain response was decreasing.
Everything was fine and under control. The door opened. And suddenly nothing felt under control anymore. Noah walked in, his gym bag wa slung over his shoulder, his hair was slightly damp like he had just come from practice.
“Morning, Dr. Pink.”
My grip tightened slightly on the tablet. “Don’t call me that.”
He smirked. “You love it.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
He dropped his bag by the wall and rolled his shoulder slowly. “How’s the damage today?” he asked.
“That depends,” I said, forcing my voice into professional calm. “Did you follow your recovery protocol last night?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Define follow.” I gave him a look. He sighed. “I slept.”
“How long?”
“Enough.”
“That’s not a number.”
“It’s a feeling.”
“That’s not how sleep works.”
He grinned. “You’re very strict this morning.”
“I’m always strict.”
“Yeah,” he said. “But today feels… sharper.”
I ignored that. “Sit.” I demanded.
He sat on the therapy table. I stepped closer to him to begin the assessment. I immediately became aware of something I hadn’t been before. I felt his warmth, and how present he felt.
I placed my hand lightly on his shoulder. “Lift your arm.”
He did as I instructed. The movement was smooth, it was better than yesterday.
“Good,” I said.
He watched my face. “High praise.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
I adjusted his elbow slightly. “You’re still compensating.”
“I thought I was improving.”
“You are,” I said. “But you’re still relying too much on your deltoid.”
He sighed. “You always find something wrong.”
“That’s my job.”
“My job is to suffer, apparently.”
I almost smiled. “Again.” He repeated the movement slower this time and more controlled too. I stepped closer. I placed one hand on his arm while my other hand was pressing gently against his back. “Engage here,” I said.
He inhaled slightly, holding the position. But then we were too close, my breathing picked up even more with this close proximity. I was now aware of everything. His breathing slowed slightly under my hand, his muscles shifted beneath my fingers, his gaze lingered just a second longer than usual. “Hold,” I said. My voice came out quieter than I had intended.
He didn’t look away. “You’re staring,” he said softly.
“I’m assessing.”
“That’s what you always say.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Is it?”
I swallowed. “Rotate your shoulder.”
He slowly rotated his shoulder, but he didn’t break eye contact and I didn’t either, which was a very dangerous mistake.
“Emily.”
My name in his voice...was low and quiet. “What?” I said sharply.
“You’re distracted.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m focused.”
“You’re staring again.”
“I just told you-” I stopped because I was staring... at him. That realization hit me all at once. Nope, not going to fall into this trap of Noah Harris. I stepped back as quickly as I could, creating a safe distance between us.
“Again,” I said. My voice steadier now.
He didn’t move immediately, he just watched me, like he knew something had changed. Maybe he could feel it too and then he repeated the movement. I forced myself back into the routine, but it wasn’t the same anymore because I noticed things now that I hadn’t allowed myself to notice before.
There was a faint scar along his forearm. the tension in his jaw when the movement strained slightly, the way he exhaled slowly when something hurt instead of complaining, the way he pushed through discomfort without making it obvious.
“Careful,” I said suddenly.
He paused. “What?”
“You’re pushing too hard.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m fine.”
I stepped closer again without thinking. My hand pressing lightly against his shoulder. “Stop,” I said quietly.
He stopped, our eyes met again. There was no pretending it was just professional, because I felt it. It was clear and unavoidable. It was attraction.
The word hit me like a warning. This was dangerous, but for who? Me.
I pulled my hand away and stepped back again. “Take a break,” I said.
He didn’t move. “Emily.”
“What?”
“You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Running away.”
“I’m not running away.”
“You just stepped back.”
“That’s normal.”
“No,” he said. “It’s not.”
I crossed my arms. “Sit.”
He didn’t argue this time just sat on the edge of the table, watching me carefully.
“Water?” I asked.
“I’m fine.”
“You need hydration.”
“You need to stop deflecting.”
I froze. “I’m not deflecting.”
“You are.”
“I’m working.”
“You’re avoiding.”
“I’m not avoiding anything.”
“Then what just happened?”
My chest tightened. “Nothing happened.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Emily.”
“What?”
“You’re not this bad at lying.”
He was right. I felt off balance like something had shifted beneath me. It wasn't what I was used to.
“I’m not lying,” I said quietly.
“Then say it.”
“Say what?”
“Whatever you’re not saying.”
I looked at him, I nearly did. I didn’t want to admit it, I just couldn't, because if I did it would change everything. Even April would have a field day about it if she just knew.
I shook my head instead. “We’re done for today.”
“That’s it?” He said with confusion.
“Yes.”
“That was short.”
“You completed the required exercises.”
“That’s not why you’re ending it.”
“It is.”
“No, it’s not.”
I grabbed my tablet, avoiding his gaze.
“Emily.”
“I said we’re done.”
He stood up slowly, the space between us felt too small and charged again. “Okay,” he said, but his voice carried something else, it was more like understanding like he knew exactly what I was trying not to admit and that made it worse.
I walked towards the door as fast as I could, needing distance and space. “Emily.” I paused in my tracks but I didn’t turn around.
“Yes?”
“You’re different today.”
My breath caught. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
I didn’t answer that because if I turned around... if I looked at him again, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to pretend. So I kept walking out of the training room, down the hallway away from him. Away from whatever that was, but the feeling followed me and it remained. It was persistent and unavoidable. Now I wasn't sure what I wanted anymore.