Page 27 of Revive Me

“I… Did you seriously just…?”

Crossing her arms, she glares at me and doesn’t take it back. “You’re goddamn right I did. Do you know that you had me seriously debating this week if I should start offering you cigarettes as a reward? Maybe that’ll help with your attitude problem. Might as well get your fill of them now, anyway, since you’re gonna be giving them up as soon as you’re on your feet.”

I blink at her, properly chastised.

Something on my face makes Lily’s eyes narrow, and her head tilt.

“Wouldyou respond to a reward system?” she asks.

I quirk an eyebrow. “Sorry, Doc, cigarettes I can get any time, and I don’t think sweets are going to do anything for me.”

It isn’t until I give the playful response that I realize her outburst has somehow driven all the anger from my body.

“Not sweets,” she corrects. “Rewards.”

That confuses me. “What kind of reward?”

Shrugging, she says, “Whatever you want. You name it.”

“WhateverI want? I doubt that’s a medically approved treatment.”

She holds my gaze. “Humor me.”

My eyes narrow. This feels like a trap, but I can’t figure out how. “To be clear, you’re saying if I go through your exercises?—”

“And give me real effort,” she interrupts.

“—you’ll do, or give me, anything I want?”

“Within reason, yes. If it’s something I can give you inside these four walls right now, I’ll agree to it.”

No part of me believes she’s telling the truth. I know her well enough to know she takes immense pride in her professional persona—not to mention that she’s kind of a goody two-shoes.

But the other part of me is intrigued. And I want to test her, to see how far I can push her.

“Fine,” I concede. “I’ll do the reps, if you…smoke a cigarette.”

I almost smirk when she swallows thickly, already going green at the thought. But without any hesitation, she nods and says, “Deal.”

My amusement disappears. “You’re not going to smoke a fucking cigarette,” I growl at her.

“Out of the two of us, I’m not the liar in this relationship,” she sasses back. Then she takes a deep breath and calmly says, “Do one set of reps and find out. Kick the band out eight times.”

I glare at her, realizing I now have to do the fucking exercise.

We’ve been working a lot on strengthening my leg muscles, using resistance to flex my foot up and also down, but also lifting my whole leg up and pushing back down. It’s been depressing to see how weak my quads are, but that’s one of the muscles that Lily has really been harping on. Before this ridiculous conversation started, she had me sitting on the table, pulling one leg up to a bent-knee position, and pushing against the resistance band wrapped around my foot while holding the other end.

Up until now, I had only been able to extend my leg completely twice.

“I need real effort, Roman,” comes Lily’s softened voice.

“I got it,” I snap back, that fear of failure creeping back in. For some reason, this moment feels bigger. I can’tnotdo eight reps.

Gritting my teeth, I adjust my position and my grip on the band. And Iwillmy leg to move.

I get the first two extensions easy. Slowly, but easy. I’ve already done two, even on a shit day like today.

I get the next two as well. I’ve gotten four in the past a few times.

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