Rico's Recovery (Detroit Heat Book 2)

by Lynn, Davida

  I smiled and tried to look friendly. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t sleep well, and you know, it’s just getting to me.”

  I didn’t know if she bought the lie, but she did respond. “She’s the head of the rehabilitation program. Dr. Jolie asked for her personally. That’s all I know. Do you want any more juice or water?”

  “No, this is fine. Thanks.” She left, closing the door halfway behind her.

  Head of the department and asked for personally. Part of me felt a twinge of pride at that. The other, larger part of me realized that I needed the best of the best because I was in the worst of the worst condition.

  One thing I learned in a hurry was that when all you had was a paperback from your mother and daytime TV, you spent hours thinking instead. I thought about my interaction with Lizzie. I wasn’t crazy. I’d seen a look in her eye, and I felt something when she touched my hand.

  I wondered if it was the firefighter aura that pulled her in. I’d seen women that had just come out of burning buildings or been pulled from car wrecks throw themselves at Detroit’s finest. I’d heard stories about women coming in off the street and trying to get dates.

  Granted, I was lying in a hospital bed with twenty pounds of metal holding me together, but I knew infatuation when I saw it.

  A week and two additional surgeries later, Lizzie was still on my mind. My thinking had changed. It finally struck me that she was a caregiver. It was what she did. I didn’t see anything but kindness and hope in her eyes. I had a big head, even after the accident.

  My left arm was out of the cast, and in its place was a mess of wires and bolts. It looked like headgear for a hand. They’d repaired some of the smaller bones, reset my wrist, and put me through a new round of pain and misery. Some days, I wondered if I’d ever be able to make it to physical therapy. Between the surgeries and the depression, I didn’t really care about getting better.

  Clay visited me after my last surgery, but he didn’t stay long. I wasn’t in much of a talking mood. There was one question I asked, but he couldn’t answer it.

  “Why hasn’t Kade been by?” He didn’t need to answer me. I knew why.

  My partner hadn’t come to visit me because it was his fault. Or at least, he thought so. I couldn’t blame him.

  Kade was disturbed. It wasn’t long before my accident that he’d been burned in a fire. He had scars that ran the length of his neck and down his arm. The two kids he was trying to rescue had died. It broke him. At first I couldn’t grasp his pain, but now that I was stuck in a hospital bed, I understood.

  But it still pissed me off. I would have been in to visit if any of our brothers were hurt in the line of duty. Engine 37 was lucky to have few injuries. Kade and mine were the only ones of the year. I was sure the boys back at the station would do everything they could to make sure the number didn’t rise.

  Jonah had stopped in, but I was asleep. He was kind and one hell of a guy. He’d been visiting with my family when he wasn’t on shift. Ma said he had done some chores that had been piling up around the house.

  He was the kind of guy that talked with all the patients as they were loaded into the ambulance. He could make anyone feel better. He;;, he’d cheered me up, and I hadn’t even talked with him. He left a card that had a hand-drawn “thumbs down” on the cover. The inside simply said, “Make sure you turn it around.”

  I chuckled. Jonah was a man of few words, but when he did speak, his brand of truth was mind-blowing.

  A few of the other guys stopped in to check on me, but I got the feeling Clay sent them on a mission to pull me from the deep. They may have been good at breaking down doors or cutting vent holes in roofs, but they definitely weren’t motivational speakers.

  I saw the look on their faces. They knew what had happened to me could just as easily happen to any of them. Some of my brothers were married, some had kids, and some just wouldn’t be able to live with themselves if they were in my shoes.

  Like Clay, many of my brothers came from a long line of firefighters. They had fathers, uncles, and blood brothers in the service. It was heartbreaking for any of them to see a coworker in the hospital, but it made us all a little selfish at the same time.

  I knew it wasn’t the case, but everyone around me seemed to be getting shittier. The nurses, doctors, candy stripers, you name it. I wasn’t in such denial that I didn’t realize it was me who was getting shittier.

  I was short with everyone. My family probably got the worst of it. They knew I was sinking into the black, but nothing worked. They stayed more, they stayed less. Nothing made any difference. I didn’t really care. I wasn’t looking for help. I was wallowing.

  Almost a week after my last surgery, Dr. Rob came in to check on my left hand. “Healing nicely.” He turned my palm up and checked where the bolts entered my skin.

  After setting it down, he sighed. “You know, the nurses tell me you aren’t eating much, Rico. We’d very much rather have you eating solid food rather than have to give you IV fluids.”

  “Yeah.”

  “They’re worried for you.”

  I looked at the doctor. It was obvious that he was worried, too. It just didn’t register with me. I wanted to be transferred home. A nurse would come in once a day, and the rest of the time I’d be left alone. That was all I wanted, really. To be left alone.

  “Rico, your mind needs to heal just like your bones do. I know you want out of here, and I don’t blame you. You’ve got to play ball, though. If you don’t eat, you won’t heal, and if you don’t heal, I guarantee you’ll break something else.”

  My voice sounded distant, even for me. “I just want to go home, Dr. Jolie.”

  He left without another word.

  The wheelchair felt amazing, but for whatever reason, I didn’t want to admit it to anyone. I couldn’t push it by myself, so the nurses took turns shoving me up and down the hallways. But it was still progress.

  I turned toward the nurse tasked with hauling my somber ass around that day. “Can we head to the physical therapy area?”

  She gave a sad smile. “Just to look. Your PT won’t start for a while yet, Rico.”

  “I know, I know. I just want to see what I’m in for.”

  We traveled out of the emergency area and toward the recovery rooms. I was due to be transferred from ICU the next day, so I tried to get familiar with the new areas. I wanted to be wheeling myself around soon enough. I hated having to accept help from others. I wanted my freedom back.

  The nurse turned me around when we arrived at the physical therapy gym, walking in backwards to push open the double doors. I could hear treadmills and soft music. When she turned me back around, I took it all in.

  It looked like a kid’s playground. Everything was painted in bright colors, and it wasn’t a real gym. Not like the gyms I knew. The weights looked minimal. I had to remember that it was about recovery, not getting in shape.

  I looked around, trying to make it seem like I was taking the whole thing in. In reality, I was looking for Lizzie. There was something about her that stuck in my mind. Even when things were dark for me, her words resonated in my head.

  “You don’t know the meaning of hard work.”

  She certainly knew how to motivate, which is exactly what she was doing when I caught sight of her. She was working with some older guy on a leg press machine. She was facing away, so I had a chance to watch her.

  She sounded strong, but encouraging at the same time. “This isn’t anything you haven’t done before. If you give me fifteen, you’ll earn five minutes of freedom from my torture.”

  The old man nodded. “You’re on.” I watched him do his fifteen leg presses with a smile on his face.

  I had to respect her. She was great at her job, and she knew how to motivate people. I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t speed up watching the old man work. I looked down at my legs and a weight crashed down on me.

  I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to even do that. The doctor wasn�
��t sure I’d even walk again. Seeing the physical therapy gym had been a mistake.

  I leaned back toward the nurse. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Are you sure? I was going to see if your therapist wanted to—”

  “I’m sure.”

  I turned around in time to see Rico being wheeled out of the gym. My smile fell away as I caught his eye for a split second. I didn’t know what to think. He had a while to go before therapy started, and some patients got discouraged when they saw how others were doing. I always reminded them that you can’t judge your recovery against anyone else’s.

  But it was always possible that he would see the equipment and be more motivated than ever before. In his case, any motivation would be better than none. He was frayed like an old rug, and that meant he was fragile. Everything had to be well calculated when we actually got to work.

  Still, I liked that he wanted to come down. He was in a wheelchair, and that was a good sign. Just getting up and out of the hospital room did wonders for healing. I’d never met anyone who enjoyed their stay in the dry, too-clean rooms of a hospital. I turned my attention back to Harry.

  “Was that fifteen?”

  “Damn right it was!” I could tell by his deep breaths, but I wanted to make sure.

  I put a hand on my hip. “Did you count out loud?”

  “Well, no I didn’t count out loud, but I can assure you that I counted in my head.”

  I cracked a smile, “I believe you. You’ve earned your five minutes. Do you want a glass of water?”

  Harry nodded, “You bet.”

  Heading back to the break room to grab a bottle of water for Harry, I thought about Rico. In fact, I’d been thinking about Rico a little bit too much lately. His X-rays were still sitting on my kitchen table. I could drink a whole pot of coffee as I stared at them, thinking about what he’d been through.

  More than anything, I wanted to start working with him. I hoped he wanted to start too, because we had months of hard, painful work ahead of us. I thought about my article and wondered if he would be my true case study. Could I motivate someone who was ready to give up at the drop of a hat? We’d both find out the minute he stepped into my gym.

  As much as I tried not to think about it, there was some other part of me that was motivated in a completely different, and maybe inappropriate, way. I’d never tell anyone at work, but Rico was hot, even in his casts and his assless gown. The whole firefighter thing just got to me. He was a hero. I’d seen his story on the news countless times, and every single replay got my heart going.

  What crushed me was the fact that he had given up. Without that thing that made Rico who he was, he had no reason to fight. I wished more than anything that I could give that back to him. All I could do was get him closer one slow step at a time. If he didn’t want to take the step, I couldn’t do anything for him.

  I wanted him to succeed. I wanted it more than anything else. My mind was clouded, and I was too invested in Rico’s recovery before he had his first session. All I could do until then was keep my feelings to myself. That’s what I thought, anyway. Then I found a free hour in my schedule.

  The nurse who had shown me Rico’s file was at the station. I had forgotten her name and her badge was covered.

  She looked up at me. After a smile, she looked past me to Rico’s room. “Do you want to see him?”

  Raising my eyebrows, I said, “Actually, I’m hoping for a little more than that.”

  She watched me with suspicion as I explained what I wanted to do. I busted out all of the data from studies in the physical therapy world, just to try to sway her opinion. It wasn’t against hospital policy, since I was an employee, but it was definitely frowned upon.

  “I’ll make sure nothing happens to him, and it’s not like we’re going far.” I gave her my best smile.

  After a few seconds of silence, she nodded. “All right. But not too long, please.”

  “Thank you, thank you!” My voice sounded a bit too high. I cleared my throat and spun around. The TV was on in his room, so I prayed that he hadn’t heard anything.

  Rico was flipping through a magazine when I came in. He wasn’t paying attention to Drew Carey or The Price is Right. He flattened the magazine into his lap when he spotted me. I looked for some recognition in his face, but I didn’t see any. I was sure he remembered me, but he didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

  “Lizzie, right?”

  At least he had remembered my name. Sort of, anyway. I smiled, “Rico, right?”

  I managed to get a laugh out of him. The first thing I noticed was that he had been holding the magazine with both hands. My instincts kicked in, and I dragged the exam chair up beside his left side. “How’s it been feeling?”

  I took his hand in mine without thinking. When I realized what I was doing, I looked up, and our eyes met. I forgot everything in that moment. I forgot about every broken bone that Rico had, and I forgot every rule and regulation of the hospital. Everything that I had tried to put out of my head slammed into me. I shouldn’t have touched him, but damn, was I glad that I did.

  His eyes were almost gray. I hadn’t noticed before, but in that moment, I was just inches away from him. Stubble was a good look for him, and I pictured him in anything but the hospital.

  I don’t know how long we stared at each other like fools, but he finally spoke. “The hand’s been all right, actually. It’s not as strong as it was, but it’s got more power than it did before.”

  To prove his point, Rico squeezed my hand. I bit my bottom lip. The muscle definition may have faded away, but I could tell that he was plenty strong. A small part of me wondered if he knew how I felt and he was doing this to tease me. If that was true, good for him. I wanted him to have some motivation, and if that motivation was me, all the better.

  “Feels good,” I said, trying to sound like his physical therapist. “I came up here to see how you were doing, and I wondered if you might like to get some air?”

  Rico looked out the window to the sunshine waiting beyond it. When he turned back to me, there was a smile on his face. “I’m game if you are.”

  He insisted on getting himself into the wheelchair. I wanted to see how much he struggled, and I was surprised by how little effort it took him to slip into it. He was determined, and he had great motor skills. He heavily favored his right arm, but who could blame him?

  By the time he was seated there was sweat on his brow and he was huffing. He kept breathing through his nose, though, not wanting to let me know just how hard he had worked to get into the wheelchair.

  “Ready?”

  Maybe he knew that his voice would give him away, because he only nodded.

  My intention was to give Rico a taste of the world outside the hospital. It had been his only view for months. I wanted to give him a chance to breathe the cool evening air and give him a space to relax for a few. What’s the saying about the best-laid plans of mice and men? They often go to shit.

  At first Rico tried to wheel himself, but his left hand was still pinned and it wasn’t angled right. After he gave up and said, “You’re up, champ,” he hung his head until we got outside. There was so much sadness in his voice.

  I hoped that the beauty of twilight would snap him out of it, but he didn’t seem to notice. My heart sank probably as hard as his. I knew that he needed a small victory, something to show him that he was still capable. I just couldn’t think of what that would be.

  The sun was setting and there was a slight breeze dancing through the courtyard. I sat on the top of a picnic table, my feet on the bench. There were other patients outside, some with their families, some out on their own, but I could see Rico was turned completely inwards. He couldn’t feel the sun on his skin, and he couldn’t hear those around him.