Page 36 of His Property

She laughs. “No. I wanted you to tip well because he had to call his own Uber to pick him up after Ubering me to a prison so that my douchebag brother could give him a hard time for all his trouble.”

“I sensed the butt grabbing thing,” I lie, smiling while tucking my hands into my pockets. “Brother’s intuition.”

She rolls her eyes. “I made that shit up, and you know it.”

“I don’t know. He seemed awfully friendly.”

“Yeah?” She raises a brow. “Think I should’ve asked for his number?”

“As long as you don’t keep me up with your weird, handicap sex, sure.”

Gabi throws her head back on a laugh and presses her hand over her chest. For a few seconds, I forget where we are and what brought us here. It’s been so long since I saw Gabi laughing outside of our living room. Iwishshe had gotten College Boy’s number. Maybe I shouldn’t have been cold to him.

“Handicap sex,” she says, wiping underneath her eyes. “That’s what I need. A guy with a fetish.”

“Normal guys are boring.”

She chuckles and lays her head on the seat while her breathing returns to normal. “If you say so.”

A few seconds go by before Gabi reaches out to me. I tuck my hands beneath her knees and around her back to lift her out of the van. I carry her to my car and gently set her on her feet, bracing her with both my hands holding her biceps. She clutches my shirt as she leans against the car, and I let go of her arms so she can steady herself by holding onto my shoulders.

Her face pinches, and her eyes clench shut as she strains.

“You good?” I ask, my hands hovering a few inches away from her.

She nods, but not a second later, her knees buckle. I catch her and carry her a few feet to the hood of the car where she’s able to half sit and brace herself with her hands behind her back. I sit on the hood next to her and mimic her pose.

Neither of us say anything, instead choosing to stare at the prison. A year ago, Gabi could stand fine as long as she had something to brace herself on. It kills me to see the pain on her face when she tries now, and I hate myself for not knowing what to do about it. No matter how many physical therapy appointments I push for or doctors I drag her from the house to see, this shit isn’t curable. How many more years will it be before she can’t go to the bathroom alone, shower alone,bealone?

I glance at Gabi and pretend I don’t see the tears in her eyes. The few minutes of bliss are gone, and she’s stuck in reality yet again.

“Anybody would be lucky to have you,” I say, unsure how she’ll take it. “You don’t need to confine yourself to freaks with fetishes.”

“Right.” Her lips are in a thin line, and she doesn’t look at me. “I’m sure the scooter is a real turn on.”

“Fuck the scooter,” I say, wishing I could pour gasoline on the thing. Anything to make this constant shame of hers wash away. “You have a hell of a lot to offer, Gabs. There’s more to you than MS.”

She looks at me and forces a smile, then she goes back to the building.

We stay quiet for a few moments, and I watch her legs closely to make sure they aren’t shaking or getting ready to slip. Her arms seem to be holding her up okay, but I’m getting more nervous by the minute.

“She’s going to take the house, you know.”

I blink and look at Gabi’s face. She’s still staring at the prison, and I follow her gaze, my stomach twisting as I do. We’ve avoided having this conversation until now, and I’m still not ready for it.

“She won’t.”

Gabi laughs humorlessly. “Don’t be an idiot. Her first stop when she gets out of here will be a law office.”

“She doesn’t have money to hire a lawyer.”

Gabi swings her head toward me and scrunches her face. “Are you for real right now?”

I glance at her, sit up, and rub the back of my neck. I think through my next words, searching for some string of sentences that might hold encouragement, or at least hope. Without lying, I find none.

“No,” I confess, letting out a long breath. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she already has the paperwork ready to file.”

“What if we just left?” Gabi asks, her voice faint like she’s afraid to ask. She takes a deep breath and raises her voice when she speaks next. “Fuck the house.” She faces me. “If it means we never have to see Cora again, she can have it.”

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