Chapter One
“I can’t do this.” Ethan’s muscles trembled as he strained against the unmoving bar. “I can’t fucking do this.” He slumped back into the chair. A bead of sweat had formed at his left temple.
“Don’t beat yourself up. It’s your first day. Besides, it’s only been, what…?” Sarah flipped up a page on her clipboard to look back at Ethan’s intake form. “Three months since the car accident? You’re doing great.”
“This is pointless.”
“It’s not pointless. The initial eval helps me to put together your physical therapy plan.”
“I’m not talking about the goddamn evaluation. I’m talking about everything. Everything.”
Sarah put her pencil down and looked at Ethan, studying his face. “So why are you here?”
Ethan opened his mouth to speak and shut it again. The question was simple enough, but he couldn’t seem to find an answer.
“I’m serious. What did you come here for if you really think it’s hopeless?”
“It is ! Do you even know what the doctors said?”
“That’s not an answer.” Sarah’s eyes were trained on Ethan, daring him to say something. “No one forced you to come here, which can only mean one thing. Whatever the doctors said didn’t convince you.”
Her voice was level and calm, but that tone of practiced patience grated on him. She spoke to him as if he were a dull child, not a man whose life had just been ripped away from him. She patted his legs soothingly, and he stared down at the place where she’d touched him. He hadn’t felt a thing.
Ethan huffed in response. “Whatever. It’s a waste of time.”
“You’re not wasting my time. I get paid the same whether you do the work or not. It’s your dime, buddy.”
“That’s right. What do you even care? I’m just another paycheck to you.”
A wry smile spread across Sarah’s lips. “You caught me. Physical therapy isn’t just about the glamour.” She gestured around the room at the workout machines and therapy tables. “We’re really just in it for the money. I mean, look at what my disgruntled patients’ hard-earned dollars get me.” She nodded to the window. Through it he saw a ten-year-old Honda Civic with a fading paint job baking in the sun.
Ethan’s shoulders sagged as he let out a slow breath, like a balloon deflating. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Smart ass.” Though he tried hard to bite it back, a wisp of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
The front door flew open, and the bells hanging from it jangled when they crashed against the glass. Ethan looked up just as a young boy on a skateboard whizzed inside. With a grunt, the boy popped the board up into the air, and it skidded across the bottom bar of one of the exercise machines. He landed with a thwack and slammed his back foot down on the lip of the board, causing it to leap up into his hand. The kid didn’t seem to be in need of any physical therapy. What was this, a clinic or a skate park?
“New board?” Sarah held out her hand for a quick high five.
“Yep, got it for my birthday.”
“Sweet.”
The boy plopped onto the floor and dug a large box out of his backpack. Ethan cleared his throat in annoyance, yanking Sarah’s attention away from the boy.
“Oh sorry,” she said. “Ethan Hendrix, meet Bradley the Bionic Boy.”
Bradley nodded and uttered a quick “’sup.”
Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. Just then, Bradley got the box open and handed Sarah a large metal object shaped like a scythe.
“Bitchin’.” She turned it over in her hands, admiring the strange-looking object. Finally, she held it out to Ethan. “Bradley here just got his first set of running legs. Wanted to stop by and take them for a quick spin. This should only take a minute.”
Running legs? Ethan heard the words but couldn’t work out what they meant until he saw Bradley roll up his jeans and remove his standard prosthetic legs, revealing stumps just below his knees. The realization
“I can’t do this.” Ethan’s muscles trembled as he strained against the unmoving bar. “I can’t fucking do this.” He slumped back into the chair. A bead of sweat had formed at his left temple.
“Don’t beat yourself up. It’s your first day. Besides, it’s only been, what…?” Sarah flipped up a page on her clipboard to look back at Ethan’s intake form. “Three months since the car accident? You’re doing great.”
“This is pointless.”
“It’s not pointless. The initial eval helps me to put together your physical therapy plan.”
“I’m not talking about the goddamn evaluation. I’m talking about everything. Everything.”
Sarah put her pencil down and looked at Ethan, studying his face. “So why are you here?”
Ethan opened his mouth to speak and shut it again. The question was simple enough, but he couldn’t seem to find an answer.
“I’m serious. What did you come here for if you really think it’s hopeless?”
“It is ! Do you even know what the doctors said?”
“That’s not an answer.” Sarah’s eyes were trained on Ethan, daring him to say something. “No one forced you to come here, which can only mean one thing. Whatever the doctors said didn’t convince you.”
Her voice was level and calm, but that tone of practiced patience grated on him. She spoke to him as if he were a dull child, not a man whose life had just been ripped away from him. She patted his legs soothingly, and he stared down at the place where she’d touched him. He hadn’t felt a thing.
Ethan huffed in response. “Whatever. It’s a waste of time.”
“You’re not wasting my time. I get paid the same whether you do the work or not. It’s your dime, buddy.”
“That’s right. What do you even care? I’m just another paycheck to you.”
A wry smile spread across Sarah’s lips. “You caught me. Physical therapy isn’t just about the glamour.” She gestured around the room at the workout machines and therapy tables. “We’re really just in it for the money. I mean, look at what my disgruntled patients’ hard-earned dollars get me.” She nodded to the window. Through it he saw a ten-year-old Honda Civic with a fading paint job baking in the sun.
Ethan’s shoulders sagged as he let out a slow breath, like a balloon deflating. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Smart ass.” Though he tried hard to bite it back, a wisp of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
The front door flew open, and the bells hanging from it jangled when they crashed against the glass. Ethan looked up just as a young boy on a skateboard whizzed inside. With a grunt, the boy popped the board up into the air, and it skidded across the bottom bar of one of the exercise machines. He landed with a thwack and slammed his back foot down on the lip of the board, causing it to leap up into his hand. The kid didn’t seem to be in need of any physical therapy. What was this, a clinic or a skate park?
“New board?” Sarah held out her hand for a quick high five.
“Yep, got it for my birthday.”
“Sweet.”
The boy plopped onto the floor and dug a large box out of his backpack. Ethan cleared his throat in annoyance, yanking Sarah’s attention away from the boy.
“Oh sorry,” she said. “Ethan Hendrix, meet Bradley the Bionic Boy.”
Bradley nodded and uttered a quick “’sup.”
Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. Just then, Bradley got the box open and handed Sarah a large metal object shaped like a scythe.
“Bitchin’.” She turned it over in her hands, admiring the strange-looking object. Finally, she held it out to Ethan. “Bradley here just got his first set of running legs. Wanted to stop by and take them for a quick spin. This should only take a minute.”
Running legs? Ethan heard the words but couldn’t work out what they meant until he saw Bradley roll up his jeans and remove his standard prosthetic legs, revealing stumps just below his knees. The realization
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