Page 21 of Ripping the Odds

I grunted again.

“It’s perfectly normal to be nervous, Zak.”

“I’m not nervous, I’m reflecting.”

“Bullshit. I can see the line of sweat on your forehead from here.”

“It’s hot.”

She snorted, walked to my side, and flicked my bare arm. “Nice try. It’s seventy degrees, not ninety.”

“Whatever.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m Team Zak.”

“Team Zak?”

“Yeah. Haven’t you seen”––she shook her head––“nevermind, it doesn’t matter. You're good for my sister. I can see how much you care.”

Giving her my eyes, I let her see the truth in them. “I do care. Very much.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Zakhar Vlaschenko.” Her statement threw me off balance until she finished her thought. Then I understood completely. “If you hurt my sister, I will end you.”

“Trust me, Daria, if that ever happened, I’d hand you the shovel to bury me with.”

“No need. There wouldn’t be a body.”

Daria stood at least a foot shorter than my six-six frame, yet I had no doubt in my mind she meant every word she said. Still, I threw my head back and barked a laugh. In the past, anyone who threatened me became an instant enemy. With any luck, the fiercely protective woman standing in front of me, though, was going to turn into one of my greatest allies.

Turning on my heels, I called over my shoulder, “It’s time.”

Chapter 5

Coffee, Mint, and Bad Decisions

Prudence

My recovery was right on schedule, at least that’s what the doctor said at my appointment yesterday. I’d followed all the post-operative instructions to the letter, including wearing the compression sleeve over my stump to help reduce swelling, even though at times it triggered some pretty intense neuropathy. Nerve pain was different from phantom limb pain. It took me a while to tell the difference. Pain was pain…until it wasn’t.

Neuropathy felt like being stabbed by a thousand needles all at once, over and over. My skin became overly sensitive to the point where clothes brushing against it was agonizing. Since being naked twenty-four seven was frowned upon at Atlantic Care and Rehab, I had to rely on medication and my therapist to help alleviate the hurt.

Phantom limb pain was the scary bastard no one wanted to meet in a dark alley. It felt like feathers lightly tickling the bottom of my feet. The muscle in my thigh would contract, pulling away from the sensation. I’d reach to scratch, only to discover there was nothing to scratch. It was psychological warfare at its finest.

All of that to say, the doctor deemed me healed enough to get fitted for my first prosthetic leg. He scheduled the appointment for Monday morning.

“Are you ready to finally get out of here?”

Lennon quietly asked as she pushed me from my room to the lobby. As much as I wanted to get back to my old life, the thought of not having her around made my stomach twist into knots. We’d gotten close, like two peas in a pod.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“This isn’t goodbye, you know that, right?”

“I know.”

“No, I mean it really isn’t goodbye.”

“Huh?”