Pearl reached over and squeezed Bob’s hand gently.“You scared everyone, you know.”
Bob’s eyes moved to her.
There was something there.
Regret maybe or frustration.Or just the helpless anger of a man who was used to being up and moving and protecting people but was stuck in a hospital bed while the rest of his club fought without him.
I knew that look.
I’d seen it in victims before.People whose bodies had betrayed them before their minds accepted it.
It made me want to look away, but I didn’t, because looking away felt disrespectful.So I stood there and watched a brotherhood exist in real time.
Anchor, the president, trying to keep his voice steady.
Pearl softens the hard edges.
Push standing like a wall at the foot of the bed.
Bob, unable to speak, yet still somehow very much part of the conversation.
Whatever else the Kings of Anarchy were, they weren’t fake.You couldn’t fake this.
Anchor tapped the bed rail twice.“Skull will be here after lunch.He’ll probably complain the whole damn time, but he’s bringing cards.”
Bob’s eyes closed briefly.
That almost-smile twitched again.
Push shook his head.“Try not to let him cheat you.”
Pearl rolled her eyes.“Bob can’t even talk.”
“Skull would still cheat.”
Anchor nodded.“He would.”
I glanced between them.“Do all of you cheat at cards?”
“Yes,” Push said.
“No,” Anchor said at the same time.
Pearl laughed softly.“That means yes.”
Bob’s shoulders moved slightly like he might’ve tried to laugh and thought better of it.
A machine beeped steadily beside him.
For a few minutes, nobody said much.And weirdly enough, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.It felt like they were letting him rest while still making sure he knew they were there.
Eventually, Anchor straightened.“We’re gonna head out.Gotta get back to the island and bring McKayla up to speed.”
Bob’s gaze moved to me again.
I didn’t know what to say to him.
Sorry your throat got cut?Sorry your island is apparently a corpse magnet?Nice beard, hope you survive?
