Page 73 of Property of Bob

“Good.”

“Why good?”

“Means you would’ve been disappointed if you knew what was coming.”

I laughed. “That makes no sense.”

“Ramona.”

“What?”

“You came here because you thought I could help.”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

He nodded once. “Then let me.”

I glanced down at the wheelchair and looked back at his face. I knew the chair was temporary. I knew that Bob wasn’t going to let anything stop him. My dad didn’t twenty years ago, and someone slitting his throat wasn’t going to either. I came here for his help, and I was going to give him help, too. “Okay.”

His shoulders loosened slightly. “Okay?”

I folded my arms. “But you’re going to let me help you, too.”

“You helping me isn’t part of the deal,” he replied.

“It is now.”

“How are you going to help me?” he asked.

I smiled. “I’m gonna help get you out of that chair. I’m sure you’re supposed to be doing physical therapy, and I also know you aren’t going to.” I propped my hands on my hips. “So that means I am going to be your physical therapist.”

Ashland shook his head. “You’re crazy. I just need to get moving more, and I’ll be fine.”

I shrugged. “Then I’ll be here to help you move.” I held my hand out to him. “Deal?”

He looked at my hand, and then up at me. “What if I say no?”

I hitched my thumb at the RV. “Then I’m out of here.”

“You gonna push that over the bridge?” he laughed.

I rolled my eyes. “I will be out of here once Piney gets it running.”

“You’re gonna leave me before we even get a chance to catch up?” he asked.

“Only if you don’t let me help you, Ashland.”

He put his hand in mine. “Deal, but you gotta stop calling me Ashland in front of these assholes.”

A laugh escaped my lips. “Deal.”

Chapter Six

Bob

By the time dinner rolled around, I was fucking exhausted. I wasn’t going to admit that to anybody, though.

Getting back to the island had been the only thing I’d thought about since I’d opened my eyes in that hospital and realized I wasn’t dead. I wanted out of that bed. I wanted out of that room. I wanted to be back where I belonged, surrounded by my brothers instead of nurses who kept asking me to rate my pain on a scale of one to ten.