97

The therapist chuckled. “All right. Well, go ahead and stand up for me. I’m going to run you through a series of tests.”

“You mean, more torture.”

He grinned. “If you need a breather—”

I held up my hand. “No, no. I got it. Just… let me finish my water.”

I’d be damned if I’d let this fucking accident get the best of me. I’d been going at this physical therapy hard. Harder than ever before. I did all these exercises when I wasn’t in my therapy classes. Two, sometimes three times a fucking day. I refused to let it beat me. I refused to be crippled for the rest of my life. I refused to never feel the rumbling of a bike between my legs again. Or feel the wind wrapping around my body as I cruised down the highway.

I mean, Dad and Cecilia weren’t on board for something like that yet. But I was trying.

“All right, Doc. Hit me with it.”

My therapist laughed. “Hold your arms out. I’m going to press down on them, and you fight back.”

I grinned. “You mean I can punch you in the face?”

“Not that k