Page 13 of Revive Me

Tina gives me a sheepish grin. “Sorry, that’s my fault. I was teaching him a trick last week and may have given him too many fish sticks.”

I wave her off with a smile. “It’s okay. Teaching him to play dead at the sound of a gun was worth the extra pound.” Glancing at the stove clock behind her, I realize I need to get going. “Thanks again for the coffee. I—” When she places a to go mug in front of me, I let out a heavy exhale. “See? Dream woman, I swear.”

She chuckles. “Get out of here. You’re going to be late.”

By the time I get to the clinic, my coffee mug is empty, and I’m vibrating with energy for the day. I absolutelylovemy job. Rehabbing patients and helping them better their lives is not only fulfilling, it’sexciting. Even with a long day ahead of me, I’m stoked to tackle it all.

I’m mentally checking off the patients I have scheduled today as I walk through the front doors. Waving to our receptionist, I continue toward the break room to unload my jacket and bag.

When I find a gaggle of my colleagues huddled together, I freeze mid-step.

I pull off my jacket with a frown. “What’s going on?”

Their heads snap up at the sound of my voice. They look downright gleeful.

“You didn’t hear?” one of them says, basically bouncing on her feet. “We have a new patient.”

That has my head tilting. “So? Why does that make you look like you’ve won the lottery?”

“Because it’sRoman Ward.”

At the sound of his name, my breath catches in my throat.

It can’t be…

My colleague misinterprets my expression and says, “You know, the MMA fighter who was paralyzed two years ago in one of his fights? Don’t tell me you don’t know who he is.”

Fuck.

Of course I know who he is. The night we met, as soon as I was done holding Tina’s hair back while she puked in the toilet, the first thing I did was google ‘Roman MMA fighter.’

I didn’t let myself do a deep dive into his socials or biography, though. Despite regretting not giving him my phone number, I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that we lived completely different lives. It was better that I tried to put him out of my mind.

But that doesn’t mean I didn’t hear about his injury when it happened. Or that my heart didn’t shatter for him at the news.

And now…he’s here. In my clinic. As a patient.

“Well, I see the gossip train has already left the station,” comes my boss Fran’s dry tone from the doorway. She plants her hands on her hips. “Is it out of everyone’s system yet? Can we get back to being professionals now?”

The huddle looks properly chastised. “It’s out of our system,” one of them mumbles shamefully.

Fran nods. “Good. Because now I have to decide who his therapist is going to be.”

My head is still spinning, but I somehow manage enough brain power to ask, “If it happened two years ago, why is he here now?”

She sighs, her expression turning sad. “It’s a terrible story. The spinal injury is an incomplete one, so after two years of therapy, the doctors said he should technically be able to walk by now. But after the accident, he just…stopped caring. He’s been through a dozen therapists at three different clinics, but none can get him to do any more than show up to his appointments. Sometimes, he doesn’t even do that. Our clinic is just the next one to try to help him.”

It's no longer shock I’m feeling, it’s heartache. A spinal injury is bad in itself, but suffering an accident at the height of your career? For a man like Roman, whose entire life was based around that career? Even only knowing him for one night, I learned that much about him.

I can’t even imagine how much pain he’s in. No wonder he’s not making progress.

“So based on that background,” my boss continues, looking around at the room full of therapists, “I need to decide who would be the best fit for him. Because he isnotgoing to be an easy patient.”

“I’ll do it,” one of my colleagues says. “I can help him.”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I don’t think your soft heart would be able to handle this one,” Fran says gently.

“I can do it,” one of the men says. “I did some kickboxing in college; I could relate to the patient.”

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