Page 63 of Property of Spike

“You’re not poisoning my girls with your undercooked chicken, Skip,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Meet me in the war room in ten. Chuck was just here.”

“Are you alright?” Skip asks me, his eyes both worried and angry.

“Just shaken up a bit,” I admit. “I pretty much had my back to him the whole time.”

“Fuck chicken,” he says, opening his arms. “You need a hug.”

Before I have a chance to kindly ask him not to hug me, Spike grabs his cut and drags him away.

“War room,” he says. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve told you a dozen times already not to touch my fucking woman.”

“Awe, Prez,” Skip whines, “One of these days, you’re gonna have no choice but to let me get some of those cuddles.”

“Over my dead body.”

“That could work.”

“I’ll haunt your ass if you so much as try.”

Shaking my head at their antics, I follow Abby.

“These men are insane,” she laughs as she pulls out the chicken Skip was preparing to cook. “Want to help me cook for thirty people?”

Nodding my agreement, I rush to the office to grab the rocker that Spike bought for Asher and set him up in a safe spot where I can still see him.

“Potatoes or chicken?” she asks when I return.

“I’ll peel,” I say, grabbing a bag of potatoes.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asks as I take a seat and start peeling.

I nod, even though my hands tremble slightly as I reach for another potato. “I will be.”

Abby sighs, setting down the knife she’s using to prep the chicken. “Riley, you don’t have to pretend with me. Chuck showing up like that…” She shakes her head. “That was messed up.”

I take a slow breath, letting her words settle. She’s right. Pretending I’m fine won’t change the fact that my heart is still racing, that the image of Chuck’s SUV idling outside the gate is burned into my brain.

“That man used to control my entire life,” I murmur. “Every second, every decision. He made me believe I was worthless, that I couldn’t escape him.” I force myself to meet her gaze. “But I did. And I’m never going back.”

Abby nods, her expression unreadable for a second before something fierce sparks in her eyes. “Darn right, you’re not.”

I smile at that, the warmth of her support sinking into the cracks Chuck tried to leave in me.

“I was watching from the monitor in the war room,” she admits. “My brother looked like he was ready to kill him on the spot,” Abby continues, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Honestly, I was kind of surprised he didn’t.”

I shake my head. “I stopped him.”

Abby blinks. “You… stopped him?”

I nod, setting down the peeler. “Chuck’s a cop, Abby. If Spike had done something, it could’ve given Chuck exactly what he wanted. An excuse to drag him in, to put him in a cage.” My fingers curl into a fist, the thought alone making my stomach twist. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

She watches me carefully before letting out a slow breath. “You’re good for him, you know that?”

I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Spike doesn’t need someone to hold him back.”

“No,” she agrees, “but he does need someone who sees beyond his anger. Someone who reminds him that not every fight needs to end in blood.”

I swallow hard, her words sinking deep. Maybe she’s right. Maybe that’s exactly what Spike needs. Someone who doesn’t just stand beside him in the fire but knows when to pull him back before he burns everything down.

---