Page 79 of Property of Bob

“It’s supposed to hurt.”

“Did the doctor say that?”

“Yes.”

“Or are you saying yes because you want me to shut up?”

“Both.”

She sighed and started pushing me again. “Your voice sounds worse.”

“I’ve been talking.”

“Then stop talking,” she growled. “I don’t want you hurting yourself anymore.”

“What do you want me to do when someone talks to me?”

“Good point.” She went quiet. “Maybe just tell them to stop talking to you.”

I glanced up at her. “Stop talking to me.”

She rolled her eyes, and we started passing bedroom doors. “Tell me when to stop when we’re at your room.”

I looked ahead and waited till we passed two more doors. “Stop.”

The wheelchair stopped, and Ramona stepped around me. Then she looked at the door, and her eyebrows pulled together.

She looked at me, then at the door again. “No.”

I frowned. “What?”

“No.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“This is your room?”

“Yeah.” Had been for how many fucking years I have been a King.

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

“What?” I asked.

“This is the room I’ve been sleeping in.”

I blinked. “What?”

Ramona pointed at the door. “This room. Pearl and Shay put me in this room.”

I looked at the door. “You’ve been sleeping in my room?”

“I didn’t know it was your room,” she insisted.

I started laughing. It hurt like a motherfucker, but I couldn’t stop.

Ramona crossed her arms. “This isn’t funny.”

“It is a little,” I rasped.