Page 49 of Revive Me

“Holyshit,” I breathe, unable to stop the giddy grin that appears on my face. “Roman, you justwalked.”

I don’t know if it’s because my energy is infectious, but the excitement is apparent on Roman’s face, too. A small grin even peeks out.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he says. Predictably. “I still needed two people and a ten-thousand-dollar piece of equipment to do it.”

I throw my hands up. “You are such aspoilsport.”

A startled laugh bursts out of him. “I haven’t been called that since elementary school. That’s a nostalgic insult.”

“I have to get creative if I want to stay professional while still getting my point across,” I mumble, starting to put away the equipment we used during our session.

When that earns me another laugh, I soften, realizing this is Roman in a good mood. Hedoesfeel good about his success today.

Relief floods me as I take the paper I slid into my pocket earlier and toss it in the trash.

“What was that?”

I startle when I realize Roman just watched me do that. And then immediately flush hot over my lack of stealth.

“Uh, nothing,” I hurry to say, avoiding eye contact. “Just some trash.”

“Then why are you blushing?” Roman presses. “You’re the color of a tomato, Liliana.”

I lift my head so I can glare at him. “That’s a rude thing to say to a woman, Roman.”

He grins. “Got you to look at me, though, didn’t it?” When I only sigh, he jerks his chin toward the trash. “Seriously, what was that?”

Knowing I’ve been caught, I lean down to take the crumpled-up paper out of the bin. “It’s my phone number,” I mumble.

Roman’s brow furrows. “Why did you write your phone number on a piece of paper and then throw it out?”

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if there’s still a way I can get out of this. If Ishouldget out of this.

“It was going to be for you,” I admit before I can second-guess myself any more.

His eyes widen at that, but there’s still a glimmer of confusion when they track back to the paper in my hand.

“So…why did you throw it out, then?” he asks.

I shrug. “Because gait training was a success.”

His eyes pinch as he shakes his head. “Doc, you gotta give me a little more than that. I’ve been concussed enough times to need this spelled out a skosh more.”

A whooshing exhale leaves my chest, then I’m admitting in a ramble, “I was going to give you my phone number if today went badly, okay? I wanted to make sure you had someone to talk to if there was a chance of you losing all hope.”

He blinks at me. Once, then again. Then, he pushes his wheelchair toward me and takes the paper out of my hand.

When he looks at me, there’s a heat in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. And even when they flash with something I can’t put a name to, the intensity there has my stomach flipping.

“Victory or not, I’m going to take this, Liliana,” he says in a deliciously deep voice.

It takes minutes for my heart rate to return to normal after that.

17

ROMAN

I walked.

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