Free Learning to Walk, a City Hospital Novel by Drew Zachary Page B

voice had grown. “Okay.”
    Kit took a chance. “I’m kind of regretting that supper’s cooking, honestly. One of these days, though, I’m going to ask for a really long massage, out of the chair.”
    “Sure, I can do that. Or I can give you the number of someone I work with. She’s amazing -- puts my skills to shame.”
    Kit rolled his eyes behind his closed lids. “No, goof. You.”
    “Oh. Okay. Yeah, I can do that. A massage.” Neil paused and started talking, words beginning to run into each other. “There’s some tables in the therapy room. Make sure you remind me to book you an extra-long appointment. That way the time is already built in and we won’t run into someone else’s appointment, and you won’t feel hurried. Nothing makes a massage more of a waste of time than feeling like the massage therapist can’t wait to be done with you.”
    “Or, you know. We can go for really private with no chance of interruption and not be at the hospital.”
    Neil’s hands stilled, then stopped massaging and just gently rubbed his skin. “I can’t do that, Kit.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you’re my patient.”
    Kit frowned. “So? You’re not a doctor, you’re a physiotherapist.” He wasn’t sure at all that it mattered.
    Neil sighed. “It wouldn’t be professional, Kit. I’m sorry.”
    Kit lifted his head and just barely stopped himself from pointing out the lack of professionalism in their meal about to be shared and weekend day trips to rock walls. He could use those things to his advantage, if he was smart.
    “Okay,” he said, slowly. “I understand. But it’s too bad -- you’re awesome with your hands.”
    “I can give you massages -- it’s part of the therapy. I just... in your bedroom is going to lead to more, Kit. And I can’t cross that line, not with a patient.”
    And right there was the information Kit was digging for, even if he hadn’t been totally sure of it himself. “I see. Well, then.” He sat up and stretched his arms, not bothering to even attempt discretion. “We better get me better then, so I don’t need your professional services, huh?”
    Neil took a deep breath and then met his eyes. “I think I’d like that, Kit.”
    “Great.” Kit beamed at him and firmly set aside the matter to ponder later, when he was alone in bed. “Let’s check on supper then, shall we?”
    Neil looked a little lost at the sudden switch of subjects, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
    Kit took pity. “If we discuss the matter, I’m probably going to be both relentless and duplicitous. I’m not above whining, teasing, arguments that don’t hold up under close inspection, and flat out bribery. No one has touched me in months and months for any reason other than helping my body move. You’d have to leave to be safe, and I want you to eat roast beef. See?”
    Neil snorted and nodded. “Okay, I get it.”
    “Cool.” Kit beamed again. “And no one tells my dad. Trust me, you don’t want my dad trying to make us spend time alone together.”
    Neil started laughing at that, then the laughter faded away. “You really haven’t had anyone touch you except professionally since the accident?”
    “Just my dad, giving me a hug.” Kit looked away, not sure how Neil would react and not wanting to see pity. Sympathy he could deal with, but pity was hard.
    “You really do know how to push all the right buttons to make someone forget they have a working relationship to maintain, don’t you?”
    “Apparently without trying.” Kit shrugged a little ruefully.
    “Well, the way I see it we have a couple of choices.” Neil waited ‘til Kit had his T-shirt back on and started pushing him back to the kitchen. “We can keep on as we are and try to keep thing professional. Or I can find you another therapist.” Neil shook his head. “The problem with the second option is that I firmly believe that having consistent care is important. We already have a routine, a working rapport. I have plans