He looks down at her sternly.
“And before you ask, yes, you’re staying here tonight.”
She opens her mouth.
Patch raises a finger.
“Don’t.”
Her mouth closes again.
Satisfied, he turns to me.
“Tank, if she starts coughing, help her sit forward so she can clear it. Don’t let her lie flat. And if she tries to get out of that bed…”
“She won’t,” I say immediately.
Abby smirks faintly.
Patch snorts.
He pats the bed rail once.
“Alright. I’ll be back when the blood gets here.”
Then he points at me as he walks toward the door.
“Keep her calm.”
He pauses in the doorway and glances back at me.
“And Tank?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m serious about not letting her out of that bed,” he says. “Right now, her leg won’t hold her up.”
I nod once.
Patch studies me for half a second like he’s deciding if I’m going to listen or not.
Apparently satisfied, he turns and walks out of the room.
The door clicks shut behind him, and silence settles in its wake.
I move closer to the bed and sit carefully on the edge of the chair beside her.
Her fingers slide into mine almost immediately.
Like they were just waiting for me.
“You look tired,” she whispers.
I huff a quiet laugh.
“Pretty sure I look worse than that.”
She studies my face for a long moment.
