Page 24 of Revive Me

Once our secret is out there, there’s even more reason for me to ask for a new therapist.

Ishouldwant to work with someone else.

It’s not just that I’ve spent the last two years avoiding anyone I know, or who knows who I was before the accident—though that by itself should be a reason to switch clinics. It’s also that I don’t relishLilianaseeing me in what has become the most vulnerable phase of my life. Therapy pushes me to levels of failure and frustration that I never reached even as a fighter. It also brings emotions and reactions out of me that I’m not proud of. To have Liliana be the one to witness those things…

And yet, I can’t bring myself to walk away from her.

Maybe it’s because I’ve reached the end of my rope, and it feels like I only have enough energy for one last try—the energy needed to give a fuck about shame and embarrassment is nonexistent.

But there’s a big part of me that wonders if it’sLilianaI don’t want to walk away from. That maybe, even in my current state, I want to be around her.

And who knows…maybe she really can help me.

All that aside, however, it doesn’t make entering the clinic a few days later any less awkward. Because where it was easy to ignore everything, including my previous and barely-existent relationship with her, now there’s a slightly tense layer ofI know you, I know who you really are because I saw you before the accident, and—oh yeah—I know what you taste like.

Maybe that last part is just me. I doubt Liliana is thinking about that kiss anymore when she looks at me.

“Hi, Roman,” she says cheerfully as I push my wheelchair into the clinic’s gym. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“Fantastic,” I answer, my tone flat. “I was so busy; I barely had time to sleep.”

She frowns when she catches my sarcasm. I wonder if she’s going to tease me back, the way she did the night we first met. Or if she’s going to stay with the professional hat she now wears during our interactions.

“You know sleep is one of the most important parts of your recovery,” she says, matter-of-fact, as she walks over to the bins filled with therapy tools.I guess that answers that question.

“So I could be walking already if I’d just stop setting my alarm so early,” I remark dryly. “Who knew.”

That earns me a grin, but it disappears as quickly as it came, giving me only a glimpse of the Liliana from that night two years ago.

“Not exactly what I meant, but you knew that already,” she responds as she digs through one of the bins. When she pulls out the resistance band we were working with during our last session, that now-familiar PT-mode smile is on her face. “You’re going to need sleepandthis band. Ready?”

My sigh is tired. “As ever.”

We work in near silence. Besides Lily’s instructions and occasional questions, plus my monosyllable responses, it’s quiet in the room. To the point that Lily puts on some music halfway through.

Weird. This album has my walkout song on it…

Surprisingly, that makes me feel a little bit better. I try not to think about the workouts I put my body through when I listened to it in the past, but if I focus on the way I feltmentallywhen I was pushing myself, the motivation to do Lily’s exercises becomes slightly easier to grasp.

“Your right side already looks stronger,” she comments as she watches me push the band out with my foot. “Did you practice any of our exercises at home?”

I don’t answer, guilt bubbling in my stomach.

But she reads it anyway. Brow furrowing, she says, “I obviously can’t make you do anything outside of this building, but for the sake of verbally putting this into the world…doing these exercises twice a day for twenty minutes will make a huge difference in your recovery.” Our eyes lock and she sniffs, adding, “Just saying.”

My eyebrow quirks in disbelief at the underlying snark in her words. “Gee, thanks, Doc. No one’s ever told me that.”

An overly bright smile pinches her face. “Oh, good. I’m glad I mentioned it, then.” She jerks her chin at the band in my hand. “See? I’m already adding value. I told you we’d make progress together.”

So much for my theory about the professional hat…

And yet, I find myself fighting back a smile. For the rest of the session, there’s less tension and more lightness in the air.

“Alright, I think that’s it for today,” Lily says as she straightens from the treatment table where we were finishing up with some exercises. “If you’re sore tomorrow, don’t do anything with the band, just work the motions. I want you fresh for our session on Wednesday.” Her eyes twinkle with mischief. “You know, now that you know it’s a good idea to do these exercises at home, too.”

Amused, I say obediently, “Yes, Doc.”

She snorts, the adorable sound making the leash on the smile disappear.

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