Page 73 of Revive Me

He hums a non-answer as he continues looking out at the cottage, clearly lost in his own thoughts.

I don’t think Roman knowshowsweet that actually is. That even during the hardest, most painful time in his life, a time when anyone would understand him being selfish, he still put the needs of the people he cares about before his own.

I suddenly wish a mirror existed that I could put in front of Roman to show himsee?Thisis the person you are. This observant, strong, caring, smart man. You may have been an incredible fighter, but you’re also so much more than that.

When I cover Roman’s hand with mine, he startles and turns his attention back to me. I give him a smile that hopefully doesn’t look as emotional as I feel and whisper, “Do you even realize how thoughtful you are? How good you are to the people you care about?”

His throat works on a rough swallow, and I wonder if maybe he doesn’t believe me.

I smile again, squeezing his hand before letting go. “I just thought someone should tell you that.,” I say softly.

When I lean back in my seat, he suddenly blurts out, “I lied at the restaurant.”

My eyes widen and my heart nervously skips a beat. “You lied? About what?”

I can’t read his face as he says, “About why I know so much about history.”

My surprise fades into confusion. “Okay…”

He pulls in a big breath. “I told you my dad passed away when I was a kid. What I didn’t tell you was that he was in the military.” Reaching up, he pulls a chain out from under his shirt. The chain I’ve noticed before and wondered about.

A chain with dog tags on it.

“He’s the reason I’m good at history,” he explains, looking down at the tags. “It was what we bonded over. And when he died…it became the only way I could hold on to him.”

My eyes prickle with tears, and I place my hand back on his. “I’m so sorry, Roman,” I whisper.

“I don’t want to make things sad or anything,” he rushes to explain. I feel his hand turn over on his thigh so he can grasp mine, and I wonder if he’s searching for comfort despite his words. “I just wanted to tell you, I guess. And to say…thank you. Because he would have loved tonight.Iloved tonight.” He lets out a laugh, the sound cracking slightly. “He wouldn’t have missed whatever question I got wrong.”

Laughing lightly, I sniffle before saying, “I should have asked the guy what it was and then lorded it over you.”

An affectionate smile lifts his lips. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t, honestly.”

“A misstep on my part, for sure,” I say with a smile of my own.

A comfortable silence settles between us. He’s still holding my hand, clearly not in a rush to break our connection. And despite the tiny buzzing in the back of my head telling me this moment isn’t as perfect as it feels because I shouldn’t evenbehere, I make no move to take my hand back.

“It was nice being able to spend time with you outside of the clinic, too,” Roman says quietly.

Just like that, the air in the car stretches like a taut, just-plucked string. And that tiny buzzing becomes an even drone.

I’m not blind to the fact that we’ve been pushing boundaries at my job. Physical therapy is a unique healthcare profession in that it relieson building a relationship with clients. It’s not like a doctor/patient relationship, where it’s a short period of time, with an occasional checkup once or twice down the line. As a physical therapist, I spend hours with my patients, weeks and months, and I needto make them comfortable with me to build the trust that’s necessary for me to do my job. It’s not uncommon to develop friendships with patients, to joke and tease the way Roman and I do. To support them as a human, not just a professional. It’s how I gave him my phone number. Everything I’ve done with Roman has felt natural—maybe to the point of being oblivious to the implications.

This moment, right here, is the first time I’ve felt aware of them.

I know Roman feels it, too. Not just because of his comment that was clearly an opening, but also because his pupils have dilated, and his breaths are coming quicker.

He’s waiting for me to either acknowledge the dangerous territory we’re in or move us back to safer ground.

And in the end…

“I enjoyed that, too,” I whisper.

Because right now, being with him in a space like this, I feel a little crazed. Not quite out of body, but definitely beyond reality. Like I’m in a dream. And the world doesn’t exist outside of this car.

His gaze drops to my lips, which only makes my heart rate speed up. When he meets my eyes again, his pupils have blown black. And I’m powerless to everything else.

“Can you do me a favor?” he asks. Quietly. Maybe trying not to disturb the moment.

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