Page 22 of Revive Me

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she says comfortingly. “I have faith in you both. I mean, look at you: braving the coffee machine on your own. If that’s not dedication, I don’t know what is.”

I grunt in agreement before frowning down at my now-cold coffee. “Instead of faith, is there any way you could give me a decent latte instead? This one tastes like burnt dirt.”

Tina lets out a loud laugh as she turns and strides into the kitchen. “Sure, babe.”

“Thank you, love youuuu,” I sing after her.

“So how late are you working tonight?” she calls over the sound of mugs clinking and cabinet doors closing. “I’m meeting some friends at Lucky’s for dinner at five, if you want to join.”

“I finish with Roman at five, so I can’t tonight.”

“You could always meet us for drinks after,” Tina suggests. When my nose crinkles in distaste, she laughs. “Stupid question, my bad. I forgot who I was talking to.”

“I would’ve been down for dinner,” I say, feeling a little bad for turning her down so quickly. I just really dislike bars. Usually, my weekends are spent hanging out with Tina at home, but on the rare occasion I go out to dinner with her and her friends, I always end the night when they switch from restaurants to bars. I think the last time I went out drinking was the night I met Roman.

Although the mocktail he introduced me to has been ordered a few times since then.

“I know, babe. You don’t have to explain yourself,” she reassures me as I hear the espresso machine turn on. “How about this: what if we do a movie tomorrow night? I’ll order us dinner, and you can pick out the snacks.”

I perk up instantly. My Sundays usually consist of a family barbecue at my dad’s house—followed closely by an evening spent recuperating from my unruly brothers—but the idea of takeout and a movie sounds like the perfect weekend finisher.

“Sold. And that new bakery just opened that sells those incredible red velvet cupcakes. I could grab those tomorrow.”

“There you go,” she says with a chuckle. “It’s a date.”

Suddenly excited about my new weekend plans, I decide to push my luck. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to watch Hugh Grant’s new movie, could I?”

As she walks toward me with the steaming cup of coffee, she quirks an eyebrow. “That religious horror movie? Not a chance. Nice try, though.”

I sigh. “Worth a shot. No chick flicks, this time, please. Let’s watch a thriller or action movie or something.”

“Deal.” After she hands me the mug, she leans down to drop a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m going to my parents’, so I probably won’t see you today if you’re going into work soon. But we’re on for tomorrow.” She nods at my laptop. “Good luck with your research.”

Settling deeper into the couch with my new cup of caffeine, I open my computer and murmur, “Thanks. I’m going to need it.”

* * *

Later that day, I walk into my appointment with Roman committed to finding the method that’s going to make Roman care about his recovery.

It takes less than fifteen minutes for that determination to fly out the window.

“Let’s try the other leg now,” I suggest.

Roman glares at me. “If I can’t do it withthisleg, what makes you think I can do it with the weaker one?”

So far, I’ve smothered every sound of exasperation. But this time, I fail.

Roman’s eyes glitter with anger. “I’m sorry…am Iboringyou?”

I slump against the wall. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t supposed to come out. I’m just frustrated.”

“You’refrustrated,” he repeats in disbelief. “How do you think I feel?”

I cock my head. “I have no idea how you feel,” I say, wondering if an honest conversation is what we need here. “I’ve never been paralyzed before.”

Clenching his jaw, Roman goes back to the exercise.

Deciding to take the risk, I continue. “It must be even harder as a professional athlete. I’m sure you’re not used to your body not doing what you tell it to.”

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