“Remember how you felt after I bathed you in the hospital? This will feel even better.”

Now that I was back in my own bed, I’d thought sleep would make me feel that way last night. Not even a top-of-the-line mattress could get me comfortable, and I hadn’t shut my eyes for more than a few hours.

“You don’t even have to get out of the wheelchair,” she said. “Your shower door is wide enough for us to fit right through.” Her hand rubbed my shoulder, using it to drive home her point. “I know sitting is your least favorite position. I promise it’ll be quick.”

I sighed.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She smiled and lifted the comforter off me. “When you’re ready, turn your body toward me and swing your legs over the edge of the bed, aiming for the ground, like PT has trained you.”

I knew the directions by heart. The same ones had been repeated to me since the day after my surgery. There was just nothing easy about those movements. And the physical therapists I’d worked with so far were the same size as me. Whitney was more like half.

“I’m over two hundred pounds.” Something was clenching my chest, and after each beat, the sensation bit and stung. “What if I fall?”

She sat on the mattress, close to my hip but not touching it. “You’re not going to fall on my watch.” Her hand went back to my shoulder. “You hired me for a reason. I know what I’m doing; you just have to trust me, and we’ll get through this together.” Her fingers slid to mine. “Now, let’s do this.”

After several seconds, I nodded.

That was when she stood and said, “I want you to go slow and think about each inch you take, nothing sudden.”

Fast and reckless was a life that no longer described me.

The ache wedged into my throat, and I carefully lifted my head off the pillows.

Her hand went behind me. “That’s it. You’re doing fabulous. Now, slide your legs.” Her expression was just as encouraging.

I reached with my toes until the floor was beneath them. My ass was instantly on fire, causing my arms to take most of my weight.

“How does that feel?”

“Stiff.” I swallowed. “Miserable.”

“You’re going to lift with your legs, not your back. Once you’re standing, turn around, and I’ll put the wheelchair behind you.”

My thighs tightened, shaking as I bore down on my heels.

Whitney’s arm went around my back, the other holding me in front. She counted backward from three, and at one, I gradually rose.

“Shit,” I hissed as my spine straightened. The burning was so intense, I was light-headed. She went to turn me, and I shouted, “Don’t move!”

“Breathe it out, Caleb.”