Page 99 of Property of Bob

“Nothing.” I took it, and she helped steady me while I pushed myself upright.

My legs held. That alone felt fucking good.

I stood still for a few seconds, waiting for the lightheaded feeling that sometimes hit when I got up.

Nothing. Even better.

“How’s that?” Ramona asked.

“Good.”

She studied my face. I knew what she was doing. “Actually good,” I added.

“Okay,” she smiled.

No argument. No telling me to sit back down.

She moved beside me. “What did they have you doing at the hospital?”

“Walking mostly. Leg exercises. Standing.”

“How far?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“How pissed off I was.”

She laughed. “So anger is part of the official rehabilitation program?”

“Worked for me.”

“I can probably keep you irritated if that’s what you need.”

I looked down at her. “I don’t think you’ll have a problem.”

She smiled.

I put my arm around her shoulders, and her arm slid around my waist. Suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about walking.

Fuck, she was warm. I could feel the curve of her body against my side, and when she adjusted her hold on me, her hand settled against my hip.

My body noticed. Immediately.

Ramona looked up. “Ready?”

I cleared my throat, the burn sharp and annoying. “Yeah.”

We started walking.

Slowly. One step. Then another.

Ramona stayed beside me without trying to carry my weight. She let me do the work, only tightening her hold whenever I shifted too far.

“You’re doing good,” she said.

“Yeah?”