In Case of Heartbreak

12 | drive

C H A P T E R 1 2 | D E A N

"Are you sure you're okay?" Holden asked one morning, his voice slow as he eyed me skeptically and with worry.

My breathing was heavy as I dropped a pair of weights to the ground, hearing the groan of the floor boards underneath. My hair was matted to my forehead with sweat, and while I was in desperate need for a shower before Katie arrived, I knew that to build my strength back up I had at least two more reps before I could quit.

"I'm fine," I replied, my throat dry. Reaching for my half empty water bottle that I'd left beside the couch, I gulped down a healthy amount before returning my grip to the dumbbells.

It had been more than a couple of weeks since my physiotherapist had recommended I get back into a routine – something to help rebuild the strength I'd lost as a result of the accident. I hadn't seen much of a point whilst I'd been confined to a wheelchair, but once I'd regained a chunk of mobility, and had gotten used to my crutches and cast, I'd taken his advice.

However, thinking I could get right back into my old routine had been a mistake, as well as an eye opener.

The gym was fairly empty the first night I'd tagged along with Holden. There were a few people I recognized, but I hadn't paid much attention to them as I stretched out my muscles and started with a few simple exercises I was able to do without putting much pressure on my leg. When I'd begun loading the weight plates onto the the iron bar, Holden watched me warily, especially as I continued until I was at a weight I had once been comfortable with. He hadn't stopped me – afraid to knock down my determination - but had stood silently behind me as a spotter, and I was thankful he did.

The weighted down bar had nearly dropped down on my chest, Holden catching and supporting it at the last minute. It was as he slid the weights off, one by one until I could properly lift the bar, that I felt my heart sinking. It hadn't truly registered until that moment how much I'd lost.

Leaving the gym that night I'd been embarrassed. With my crutches supporting me and my glasses hanging on the bridge of my nose as I ducked my head, it felt as though everyone was watching me. Heavy gazes bore into my back, full of pity and amusement, and I found myself unable to turn around as Holden walked along beside me.

It wasn't fair. I'd worked hard and this is the hand I'd been dealt.

But I'd grown up being told that if I wanted something bad enough, the work I put in along the way would be worth it in the end.

And right now I wanted to heal – more than anything.

So a routine formed. I found myself waking up earlier than normal, stretching out my muscles and working with the dumbbells I'd kept in the apartment. The mornings were the hardest however, because as I finished with a workout and showered, I was cutting it close most days when Katie arrived to find me forcing down my breakfast in a hurry.

It wasn't that I didn't want her to know that I was getting back into shape, but a small fear kept me from talking about it, believing that, instead of encouragement, I'd receive sympathy as I overworked myself.

At school I'd take the stairs, and while challenging, I found it rewarding in a way – knowing that I was on my way to a full recovery.

The evenings were when I really tried to push the boundaries. Keeping up with my assignments was still a priority, but instead of relaxing once they were finished, I made my way towards the gym nightly. Sometimes Holden would come with me, and other times, when he was focusing on his coursework or had other plans, I went by myself. This was when I tried to rebuild the strength in my entire upper body, switching my focus daily between my arms, my shoulders, and my back. I made sure to talk with one of the professional trainers, and listened to his recommendations on exercises I could execute safely without putting strenuous pressure on my injury.