Page 101 of Property of Bob

I stopped and drew in a slow breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Back.”

She smiled. “Good call.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

We turned around.

The wheelchair looked farther away than it actually was, which pissed me off, but I started toward it.

One step at a time.

Ramona stayed beside me. Her arm was still around my waist, but she wasn’t holding me up. She was there in case I needed her.

There was a difference, and I fucking appreciated it.

Halfway back, my legs started shaking harder. My entire body was getting tired now, and sweat had broken out across my forehead even though it wasn’t warm outside.

I slowed.

Ramona slowed with me. “You’re doing good,” she said.

“I’m walking across the yard.”

“After spending weeks in a hospital bed.”

I glanced down at her.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

I knew what she meant.

My legs weren’t fucked up.

There wasn’t anything wrong with them that time and work wouldn’t fix. The doctors had made that clear. I’d lost strength because I’d spent too damn long in bed, and now I had to build it back. That I could do.

I finally reached the wheelchair and lowered myself into it.

Fuck.

I leaned back and took a deep breath. My thighs were still trembling, but it wasn’t scary.

It was annoying. There was a difference there too.

Ramona stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. “That was farther than yesterday when you walked to the RV.”

“Yeah.”

“Tomorrow we’ll go a little farther than this.”

I looked up at her. Did she not see me struggling to breathe right now?