Kiss Me Captain (Emily and Maddie) novel Chapter 60

Dr. Martinez reviews my X-rays with the kind of satisfied expression that suggests good news is coming, and I’m gripping the examination table so hard my knuckles have gone white.

I cannot handle another disappointment, another timeline extension, another conversation about realistic expectations versus my athletic delusions.

“Recovery is ahead of schedule,” she announces, turning from the lightbox with a smile that makes my chest tighten with hope I’m terrified to embrace. “Significantly ahead, actually. You can start light skating in six weeks. Full training in three months.”

Three months. Not six months, not a year, not career-ending permanent damage, not the apocalypse I’ve been mentally preparing for since I woke up from surgery. “What about competition?” I manage, my voice coming out strangled with all the emotions I’m trying to keep contained in this professional medical setting.

“Regionals are in four months, correct?” Dr. Martinez checks her notes, then nods with the kind of professional certainty that makes me want to cry. “If you follow the physical therapy protocol exactly, don’t rush anything, listen to your body—yes, you could potentially compete.”

Emily’s hand finds mine, squeezing so tight it almost hurts, and suddenly I’m crying. Actually crying in a doctor’s office like some kind of emotional disaster, but I don’t even care because this is the first genuinely good news I’ve received in what feels like decades.

“Thank you,” I whisper, because anything louder will turn into full-on sobbing. “Thank you so much.”

Walking back to campus—well, me hobbling on crutches while Emily hovers like an overprotective mother hen—the world looks different. Brighter. The late afternoon sun slants through bare tree branches, and for the first time in weeks, I feel something that might be hope.

“We should start planning your training schedule,” Emily says, already pulling out her phone because of course she is. “Basic stroking, then edges, then simple jumps. Spins first since those put less stress on the ankle—”

“Em, I literally just got told I can skate again like twenty minutes ago,” I interrupt, hobbling faster. “Can we maybe celebrate before you turn into Coach 2.0?”

“If we plan this right, you could come back stronger,” she continues, ignoring my request entirely. “Rebuild your technique from the ground up, fix bad habits—”

“You’re not going to let me enjoy this moment, are you?” But I’m smiling because her obsessive planning is actually kind of adorable.

“Would you expect anything less?” She grins, and that smile makes my chest do complicated things. “You know you love my obsessive planning. It’s one of my more endearing qualities.”

“It’s on the list,” I admit. “Probably around number seven, right after your terrible movie taste and your deeply misguided confidence in your cooking skills.”

Back at the dorm, Emily’s already pulling out her laptop, opening spreadsheets she’s apparently been working on for weeks. Because of course she has. “Okay, so week one—” she starts, but my phone buzzes. Unknown number.

Saw you at the rink last week. You and Emily looked real close. Real friendly. Would be a shame if people knew just how close you two really are. —D

I show Emily the screen, my hands shaking, and just like that, all the joy evaporates. Her expression hardens, jaw tightening in that way that means she’s five seconds from committing murder.

“He’s still watching,” she says, her voice steady in a way that suggests she’s been thinking about this. “We need to decide how to handle this. We can’t live in fear of Derek forever.”

“I know,” I say, sinking onto my bed because my legs have forgotten how to support weight. “But what are our options? He’s already expelled, already facing charges—what leverage do we have?”

My heart starts racing. “Do you realize what you’re suggesting? Coming out publicly? That affects our families, our skating careers, everything. My parents don’t even know—they suspect, but they don’t know—”

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