“Bright,” I answer automatically. “How’s Abigail?”
There’s a slight pause.
“Her fever spiked a few hours ago,” he says. “I got it down. It’s still elevated, but she’s stable. Lungs are clear. She’s resting.”
My jaw tightens.
“Fuck. I should come home.”
“No,” Patch says calmly. “She’s uncomfortable, not critical. If that changes, you’ll be the first one I call. Focus on what you need to handle there.”
“We might be here a few days,” I admit.
“I assumed,” he replies. “Trust me to keep her safe until you get back.”
“I do,” I say without hesitation. “Thanks, Patch. I owe you.”
“You owe nothing,” he answers. “We’re family.”
“I’ll check in later,” I say. “Got your favorite jerky at my place. Take it.”
A small chuckle. “Already planned on it.”
We hang up.
“Everything good?” Spike asks quietly.
“She’s fine,” I answer. “Patch has her.”
He nods once.
“Good.”
Behind us, Skip is still circling the topic that matters most to him in this moment.
“I’m just saying,” he continues, gesturing toward Maverick, “it would be polite to offer me your bedroom. Iamyour honored guest.”
“You are not sleeping in my bed,” Maverick replies patiently. “You’ll have your own room. Private bath. Balcony. Jacuzzi.”
“You don’t even have to sleep with me,” Skip says generously. “You can take the chair. Or the foot of the bed. I’m flexible.”
“You cannot speak to him like that,” Stefano sighs, rubbing his temple. “He is the Don.”
“He’s notmyDon,” Skip shrugs. “He’s my Outlaw. So again…chair, floor, or foot of the bed?”
Stefano stares at him like he’s witnessing a social experiment gone wrong.
“How have you not been killed?” he asks.
“I stabbed him once,” Bones mutters casually.
“And I shot him,” I add, smirking. “He deserved it.”
Skip places a dramatic hand over his heart. “I am permanently scarred. Emotionally damaged because of both of those instances.”
“The bullet grazed you,” I remind him.
“Yes, but Bones’ knife did not graze me,” Skip fires back. “I’m fairly certain he hit bone.”
