Page 28 of Property of Bob

That was one thing I’d always liked about her.

She knew when to shut the fuck up. Even when we were kids, she hadn’t been the person who filled silence just because it existed.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally.

“Yeah.”

Her eyes moved to my throat again. “You really are lucky.”

“I know.” And I did. Every fucking time I woke up, I knew. Every time I got pissed because I couldn’t get out of bed without somebody hovering, I knew. Every time a nurse pushed me down the hallway in that damn wheelchair, I knew.

I was alive.

That counted for a hell of a lot.

“I’ll get out of here soon.”

Ramona’s eyes narrowed. “Did a doctor say that?”

“No.”

“So you decided?”

“Yeah.”

She leaned back in the chair. “Sounds smart.”

“I know my body.”

“You threatened to leave against medical advice yesterday.”

I stared at her. “Who told you that?”

“Everyone.”

“Fucking traitors.”

“You had Skull wheel you around the hospital.”

“I needed to know what was going on.”

“And apparently waiting wasn’t an option?” she asked,

“No.”

“Still impatient.”

“Still nosy,” I countered.

“Still bossy.”

“Still here.”

The words came out before I thought about them.

Ramona went quiet. So did I.

I shifted against the pillows. My body immediately reminded me that I’d been sitting up too long. A wave of exhaustion rolled through me, and I fucking hated it.