Page 59 of Patching Over

“No, no, I’m good,” I reply, my mind steadily racing as I worry about the condition she’s going to be in when they get back.

Murder was surprisingly mute when I asked him about that, so either he didn’t see her, or he’s worried I’ll lose my shit.

“You’re not, brother,” he insists. “Hell, even back when your dad got his initial diagnosis, you were calm, cool, and collected. You worked alongside him to make sure he had shit in place for the time he couldn’t make life-altering decisions, learned everything about running the club, and took it overyearsahead of schedule, and did it with no problem. Yet you get an ol’ lady, who happens to be the long-lost and thought to be dead princess of the club, and your almost legendary calm and patience is shot to shit.”

I bark out a laugh at his assessment because he’s not too far off the mark.

“You just wait, Ban, when the woman who controls your soul comes into your life, you’ll see that everything you knew about who you were gets tossed by the wayside. Ever since I laid eyes on her in that fucking ditch, she’s had my attention. Even when I let her go out on her own in a manner of speaking, she was the first and last thing I thought about. Every. Single. Fucking. Day. Add in the fact she’s now carrying our child and yeah, I’m a little bit unhinged. Sue me.”

“Still can’t believe Angel healed your dad,” he murmurs, blowing his smoke upward.

He’s such a health nut, he rarely indulges in anything stronger than a shot or two of whiskey, but much like me, since realizing Rayleigh is his sister, he’s a bit discombobulated as well.

“No kidding,” I huff out. When I went in to check on Pops, he was awake and even though he’s still got a few lingering issues, his mind is nearly perfect. So much so, he remembered turning the club over to me when he got his diagnosis, then was able to detail a lot of shit I had no clue he’d noticed.

“At least he doesn’t want to take the club back over,” he muses with a hint of humor lacing his words.

“I think the guys are gonna miss him calling Church though,” I jest. “Gotta say this too, I’m impressed as hell that no one ever pushed back whenever he would issue orders.”

“You’re kidding right? At the end of the day, he was and is still RiffRaff, and while he might not fuck folks up like he did when we were kids, his reputation precedes him and lives on, brother.”

The laughter that bursts free has me doubling over, the stress from the past several hours pouring out as I think about all thetimes we witnessed my pops handing someone their ass when they’d do something stupid as fuck.

He never put up with a lot of shit, ran a tight ship actually, much like my grandfather before him did, and despite not really ever having an ol’ lady around, he had a way with the ladies for sure.

“Yeah, I get that, brother, but even still, it’s kind of impressive, y’know what I mean? He had those fuckers out shoveling snow for fuck’s sake.”

Banshee joins in with me as we remember how Pops ordered the men outside to shovel the snow that was coming down so hard in sheets it was pointless. Yet, they didn’t bitch or complain, they just got up, put their winter gear on and got shovels then started working.

“They were frozen half to death when they came back in, and hell, when your pops asked how it looked, Kracken never missed a beat and told him the lot was clear as a baby’s freshly diapered ass.”

“Thank God he didn’t insist on checking it out, he’d have seen it was covered in three feet of snow, brother,” I manage to gasp out through the wheeze from laughing so hard.

I’m about to say something else when I see the gate opening with several trucks preparing to pull through. Taking off at a run, I don’t miss the sly grins from my brothers who are driving as I finally figure out which truck Rayleigh’s seated in based on Rael’s almost maniacal look through the windshield.

Before the truck is in park or shut off, I’m at the rear passenger door and have it opened. She’s sound asleep as I unbuckle her seatbelt then draw her into the crevice of my arms.

“Be careful, brother, think she’s got some cracked ribs,” Shadow warns when I cradle her close. “Not one hundred percent sure, of course, but we all noticed her favoring her side.”

“Hopefully, Angel has a little more healing power in him,” I mutter, already striding toward the clubhouse and our room. “If not, I know she’ll heal, but it’s gonna suck.”

“Brick, I’ll get these fuckers taken down into the wine cellar,” Ban calls out, laughter threaded in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, y’all take care of that and I’ll be down shortly once I have her sorted.”

“Find out what she wants us to call her,” Ban insists. “It’s getting confusing in my head, brother.”

Like what she wants to be called is a top priority right now, for Christ’s sake.

Finally at our door, I somehow manage to open it without dropping her but when I try to close it behind me, I see Angel standing mid center of our room.

“Brother, I know you’re not back to yourself yet,” I tell him, gently placing my woman on our bed. Her kittens immediately gravitate toward her, curling around her head and purring, happy that their mistress is home.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s one of the reasons why I’m here, Brick,” he insists. “Besides, Venom and Voodoo are on their way up and they’ll help me by giving me an energy boost.”

“Only if you’re sure, Angel, because you did more than I would’ve anticipated or expected seeing as I wasn’t planning on any of y’all being here,” I state, appreciation woven in my tone.

He chuckles then replies, “Yeah, had to throw you for a bit of a loop coming back with Murder and his guys to see all of us here, huh?”

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