He gingerly turned his head toward the person or persons who had been speaking by the door and now approached his bed.
“Welcome back.” Trip. “Had us fuckin’ worried for too fuckin’ long.”
Right.
“App did its job, thank fuck.” Judge.
“If you hadn’t had coverage, you woulda been fucked.” And Sig.
“He’s still fucked but at least he’s breathin’,” Trip said.
“Yeah, but they got him on the good shit,” Sig added with a wicked grin, lifting some button thingy from where it lay on the bed and sliding it under his hand.
“Not for long. They were waitin’ for him to wake up before they kick his ass out for not havin’ insurance,” his prez said.
Fuck. The hospital bill was going to hurt worse than his fucking injuries.
“You get knocked so fuckin’ silly you can’t speak?” Trip asked with a raised eyebrow.
Before he could answer, Judge chimed in, “Need to discuss what happened up there but not here. Once you’re back at the farm and there ain’t any extra ears.”
“What excuse d’you make?” His question was nothing more than a croak. He was thirsty as fuck, too.
Sig poured him a plastic cup full of ice water and Shade sipped at it, his stomach doing a little roll.
“Told them you wrecked your sled,” Judge answered.
“No road rash,” Shade said.
“Yeah, well, if you want some we can give you some,” Trip responded. “They didn’t dig any further than what we told them. What you tell your woman’s gonna be up to you. Just not the truth, yeah?”
Shade closed his eyes for a second. Fuck, he would have to make up a story for her that didn’t involve wrecking his sled. Especially since she’d see his sled had no damage and would easily figure out he was lying to her. And there was no way he was going to let his brothers smash up his Night Train to make it look like an accident.
“She know?”
“Yeah, Cassie called her,” Judge answered. “She’s on her way over now. So figure out a believable story before her ass gets here.”
“So...” Trip started, his hands on his hips under his cut. “Got a bunch of stitches holdin’ in your brains. Luckily, no skull fracture, but got a concussion. They couldn’t find any breaks in your leg but said you got somethin’ called a bone bruise, which is worse than it sounds. All that shit means you’re gonna be off your sled for a coupla weeks between the two injuries. They’re gonna release you with a brace and pain meds. Supposed to keep weight off that leg, keep it elevated and iced, and not do anythin’ stupid ‘til you’re feelin’ better.”
He couldn’t ride his sled? How the fuck was he going to get around? “Only got my sled.”
He wasn’t telling them anything they didn’t know. Most of the guys had some sort of backup transportation they used in bad weather. Shade was one of the few who didn’t and had to catch a ride with someone else when needed. But he rode his sled as much as he could, even in winter.
“The van?” He could drive that back and forth to work. Hopefully, one of them found it where he’d left it. If not, someone would need to go get it. But that was a conversation that had to wait until they were sure no “extra ears” were around.
“Ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘til you’re feelin’ better. Doc wants you off your feet. No weight on that leg so it heals faster. Thought I made that clear.”
“Not likin’ this,” Shade muttered.
“Ain’t for you to like. Your prez is givin’ you an order,” Judge reminded him.
“The longer you’re down and out,” Trip continued, “the harder it is on the rest of us, so you’re gonna only be down for the time needed ‘til you can get back up and stay there. Got it?”
Sig rapped a knuckle on the little wheeled table next to his bed. “Will assign you a sweet butt to wait on you hand and foot to make sure you don’t do nothin’ stupid.” He shot Shade a cocky grin. “Or you can do somethin’ stupid, just while horizontal. Let ‘er do the work.”
“Don’t need that,” he told his VP.
Judge shot him a look that clearly told him to stop back talking the club’s officers.
“Don’t want a sweet butt up my ass twenty-four seven,” he muttered anyway. Last thing he wanted was one of the sweet butts being all up in his business and he definitely didn’t want one riding his dick. He was Chelle’s until she was tired of him and that meant he wasn’t dipping his dick into anyone but her.
Judge spoke next. “Ain’t got another choice. Jemma’s too busy to be your personal nurse between workin’ long hours and raisin’ Dyna.”
“She’s welcome to come check on him whenever she wants, but I’m taking care of him.”