Page 170 of Property of Bob

Except they’d fucked up.

Because I lived and remembered.

Ramona rubbed her thumb across the back of my hand.

I looked down at her.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Where you say you’re okay because you don’t want anybody asking if you’re okay.”

I stared at her. She stared right back.

“That’s annoying.”

“I know.”

“Stop knowing me so fucking well.”

“No.”

A laugh came out of me before I could stop it.

My throat pulled slightly, but it didn’t hurt enough to matter.

Ramona smiled.

Then the clubhouse door opened.

I looked over automatically.

Lost stepped inside and he scanned the room until he found me. “Bob.”

Something about his face made every bit of humor disappear.

“What?”

“There’s a guy at the gate.”

Anchor lowered his phone. “Who?”

Lost looked at me. “Says he’s looking for Ramona.”

Ramona froze next to me. The color had drained from her face, and her hand squeezed mine tightly.

“You know who it is?” I asked her.

Her eyes met mine.