Page 17 of The Saint

He was also the man who had rushed to save me after I was shot. The man who would have likely found a corpse had my friend, Diesel, not taken the time to stem my bleeding before he raced away to save his girl.

Just thinking about the bullet that’d slammed into my chest made the ache come back. I lifted my hand, not caring at this point that Zee would see me in pain.

“I’ve been doing what you said.”

“Why don’t you look me in the eye and tell me that?”

Raising my eyes to his, I flattened my lips.

There was no smugness in his expression. Zee cared about his patients. About his family.

And with Zio Paulo as his boss, that’s exactly what I was.

“Rolly.” Zee sighed, shaking his head. “How am I supposed to release you back to work if you won’t listen to me? I’m your doctor. If I tell you to take it easy, you’re supposed to do what I say.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s not good enough.” Zee took my arm, raising it until it jutted straight out from my shoulder. But he was watching my face the whole time, seeing the pain written there as clear as day, as my muscles rebelled against the movement. He tapped the underside of my arm. “Hold it up.”

It was pathetic how quickly my muscles gave out when he pushed down on my arm. Pathetic and telling, how poor of shape I was in.

“Sorry’s not going to get you back to work,” Zee murmured, letting me go. “And unfortunately for you, work is the last place you’re going to go.”

“No.” My head whipped up, eyes wide as I stared back at him. “No, Zee, don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he told me, and for a split second, my shoulders wanted to sag. “You chose not to listen to your doctor’s orders, and now you’ll face the consequences.”

There was no use in fighting.

Not with Zee.

“I want you to take it easy for the next month. No work, no basketb—”

“Oh, come on!”

“Make that two months.” That stern look on his face? It told me what I already knew.

Fighting would only make it worse.

If I said one more word of protest, he’d make it three months. Then four.

Zee nodded, recognizing my defeat for what it was. “For the next two months, you will take it easy. I’ll be contacting your boss directly, since you’ve proven you can’t be trusted to look out for your own health. And you better believe those boys at the courts will be getting a call as well.”

A groan the size of New York tumbled from my chest. The problem was, Zee knew Tyrone. And the guys at the courts, my friends, would listen to him if Tyrone told them not to let me play.

My summer was as good as ruined.

“How am I supposed to get in shape if you won’t let me workout?”

Zee crossed his arms over his chest. “Stopping you from doing too much isn’t the same as not letting you workout. I gave you a list of approved exercises to do. If that’s not enough, I can recommend a good physical therapist who can make sure you’re doing what you’re supposed to.”

I didn’t like the challenge in his eyes. It was like he was daring me to fight back. Like he was looking forward to throwing around his weight, sending me off to a therapist who was sure to beat me into submission.

My teeth clamped down on my lower lip and I nodded. “I’ll do the exercises.”

“I want to see you again in a month. If I hear you’re doing something you’re not supposed to—”

“I get it,” I mumbled, hands held up in surrender.