Chapter 3
Halfway up the staircase, he reached the landing and congratulated himself. Not bad for a gimp. Feelingcocky, he grinned as he pivoted and took a step, intending to tackle the remaining stairs.
The next moment, the box of photos went flying out of his hands as he tumbled back down, crying out in alarm. The picture frames shattered around him, shooting glass shrapnel through the air. Coming to restat the base of the staircase, he panted, floating on the shock, scared to even speculate on just how much damage he’d done to his leg. Or his head, which ached like a son of a bitch and seemed to be resting on—what the hell? He slowly eased his head to one side and saw he was splayed out on top of a hand truck. The moving company had left a fucking hand truck on his landing? Unbelievable!