Page 26 of Revive Me

“That doesn’t mean you need to kill theremaininghealthy parts,” she says, her frustration evident.

Part of me wants to explain it to her—how it feels like nothingto tack on an unhealthy habit like this, because every part of my body already feels like it’s reached the bottom of the pit.

But another part of me also dislikes that, out of everything she knows about me, everything she read in my medical history and everything I’ve revealed about my current state,thisis what upsets her.

I take another drag before saying carefully, “I’ll tell you what. If you get me on my feet, I’ll quit.”

When her eyes narrow in skepticism, I add, “There’s no point before then, especially since it’s my only form of stress relief, but I promise to dump the habit if you get me walking.”

And as a gesture of good faith, I hold up the cigarette, then quickly lean down to scrape the lit end against the pavement.

After a moment, she sniffs and says, “You make it sound like I’m Jesus.”

That pulls a chuckle out of me. The sound makes Lily’s eyes widen, and her tone is one of awe when she says, “That’s the first time you’ve laughed.”

And…fuck. She’s right.

It might be the first time I’ve laughed in two years.

I look away, out over the parking lot, not knowing how to deal with that. Lily must sense my tension because she tries to lighten the mood. “And only four sessions in. I think I’ll takethatas an even bigger compliment than the comment about my steady hands.”

Thankfully, I’m saved from having to respond because just then, a car pulls into the parking lot. And right behind her is my mom’s van.

“Well, this has been fun.” I unlock the brakes on my wheelchair as both cars stop in front of us. “Until next time, Doc.”

The amusement is evident in Lily’s voice. “Until next time, Roman.” But just as she starts toward her friend’s car, she pauses and turns back to me. “And by the way, you’re on for that deal. When I get you walking, you quit smoking.”

When. Not if.

Our eyes stay locked as I say, “You’re on, Liliana.”

10

ROMAN

“Come on, Roman, give me one more set,” Lily begs. “I can’t get you walking if we don’t strengthen your muscles.”

I have an overwhelming urge to throw the resistance band across the room. I’m sick of therapy. I’m sick of beingweak.

“I can’t do another set,” I spit.

Lily’s look isn’t pitying, it’s just…sad. Which only makes my fury boil.

I was never this angry before my accident. I never felt so overwhelmed by rage that I wanted to hit things or react physically. I never got to the point where Icouldn’tcalm myself down. But my injury changed all that. Now, my fuse is nonexistent.

My frustration only mounts as we keep working. Every time I can’t move a muscle, or every time a muscle is too weak to move the band, my anger grows. There’s a tidal wave inside me, one bigger than I’ve ever dealt with. I feel like screaming, or throwing something, justexploding?—

“Let’s try the other leg now,” comes Lily’s voice as she watches me fail at a move once again.

“If I can’t do it withthisleg, what makes you think I can do it with the weaker one?” I snarl at her without thinking.

And it feelsgoodto aim some of this at her. After all, she’s the one making me do this shit. SheknowsI can’t do half of these exercises. Does she seriously think she’shelpingme? Maybe she just gets off on watching the big, bad fighter who didn’t want her enough to go after her look like a complete and total weakling.

With my pulse beating harshly, I open my mouth to justunleashon her, but?—

“God, it’s like working with a toddler!” she snaps, throwing her hands in the air.

Shock douses me like a bucket of ice water.

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