He's off limits. Apparently that's my type.
I was supposed to keep things professional.
He was supposed to be just another patient.
But the moment Jason Rycker walked, well, limped, into the physical therapy clinic, all broad shoulders and stormy gray eyes, I knew I was in trouble.
Every session came with a new test of my willpower.
A quietly teasing comment.
A too‑long glance.
A hard-won smile that absolutely should’ve been illegal.
The problem?
As my patient, he was 100% off‑limits. But the spark between us was impossible to ignore.
We both knew the rules.
No lines crossed.
No boundaries blurred.
No giving in, no matter how magnetic the pull between us became.
So, we waited.
Week after week.
Session after session.
With my ex watching from the wings, we couldn’t slip up.
By the time Rycker’s treatment ended, the air between us was practically humming, and suddenly the one thing that had been stopping us… wasn’t.
He wasn’t my patient anymore.
He was the man I’d been falling for, one teasing smile at a time.
It was finally our time to be together. Until my past came roaring back to tear us apart.
