Page 30 of Ripping the Odds

“Yeah, baby?”

“I don’t think I can stay here.”

“We’ll figure everything out. Together.”

As soon as the bedroom door closed, I tossed the covers aside and scooted to the edge of the bed. Not all of the doorframes in my apartment were wide enough to accommodate my wheelchair, so it was easier to move around using my crutches most of the time. I grabbed them from where they leaned against the wall, used the hand grip to stand, and went into the en suite bathroom. Lowering myself onto the shower chair someone had thoughtfully installed, I pulled the knob on the wall and let the rhythmic beat of the water wash away any remnants of the nightmare.

Learning to live as an amputee was challenging. I lost count of the number of times I almost toppled out of bed at rehab because I forgot part of my leg was missing. That’s not counting the times I actually did. Talk about embarrassing. Even my modesty was a thing of the past. Up until a few weeks before, I wasn’t comfortable enough to bathe or dress alone. It had nothing to do with whether I could do it on my own and everything to do with my new fear of falling. My fear wasn’t reasonable, but damn, it threw me for a loop. Eventually––with the help of my therapists––I realized my self-confidence had taken a hit. The more independent I became, the more I trusted my body…and myself.

Once I was clean, I dried myself fully, pulled on the compression sleeve, and quickly dressed in the outfit I’d chosen for the day. It had only been thirty minutes max by the time I hobbled to the kitchen, yet Zak was not only wearing his signature black suit, he was pouring what looked to be his second cup of coffee.

What the hell?

“Okay. Spill. How did you get here so quickly last night and how the hell are you already dressed for work?”

“Sit.” He pointed to my small kitchen table. “I had breakfast delivered.”

Opening a white paper bag on the counter, he pulled out a Styrofoam container and placed it in front of me. Next he brought over my favorite mug, filled to the brim. I took a sip and moaned. It was precisely the way I liked it. A bit of half and half with a splash of caramel syrup.

Zak sat across from me and without any preamble, blurted, “I own the apartment next door.”

At first, I thought I heard him wrong. He must’ve thought I hadn’t heard him at all, though, because he repeated himself. It wasn’t any easier to hear the second time around. In fact, it was confusing as hell. I knew for a fact Zak owned a house near the coast. I’d previously arranged a housekeeper and a gardener for the property. Had he sold it?

“Excuse me? What happened to your house?”

“I still have it.”

“But you bought an apartment.”

Something shifted behind those expressive eyes. A cross between caution and dread. Moments later, I knew why.

“Technically, I bought an apartment building.”

My mouth hung open as I tried to process what he’d said.

He bought my building.

He bought…

…My building.

The coffee in my mouth went down the wrong pipe. My lungs revolted, making me cough uncontrollably in order to expel the unwanted liquid. Zak shot to his feet, the chair he was sitting in flew backward, crashing into the refrigerator. A moment later, he began whacking the area between my shoulder blades. Eventually, the spasms in my throat stopped.

“You good?” He asked, reclaiming his seat.

My eyes narrowed to slits. “That depends on how the rest of this conversation goes, landlord.”

Zakhar

Shit! I was in trouble. What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t, that was the problem. Where was the rewind button for life? I only needed to undo the last thirty seconds. Everyone warned me to keep my little purchase to myself, to let Pru warm up to the idea of us first. Instead of listening, I dove straight into the deep end. In my defense, the only other option was to lie, and there was no way I’d do that to her.

“I’m not your landlord, exactly... I hired a company to manage the property.”

“Semantics.” She took another sip of her coffee, cocking her head to the side. “Hold on. What happened to my creepy neighbor?”

The vein at my temple began to throb. “Did he do something to you?”

“No, he was just a lurker, you know? Always popping up when I least expected him. Staring longer than he should. Those sort of things.”