Page 51 of Property of Bob

“You don’t know that,” Skull called.

“Neither do you.”

Anchor rubbed his forehead. “Christ.”

I leaned back against the pillows. Not because he was right, but because sitting up had started making my head feel light. Nobody needed to know that.

Cross definitely fucking noticed. His eyes dropped toward my hands.

I curled them into fists. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to,” I grunted.

“No. I was thinking it.”

“Think quieter.”

Skull laughed through the speaker. “Glad I’m not there.”

“You’ll be dealing with me tomorrow,” I told him.

Silence.

Anchor’s head snapped toward me. Cross stared.

Skull finally said, “What?”

“I’m coming home tomorrow.”

Anchor laughed once. Not because it was funny. “No.”

I looked at him. “Yes.”

“You’re not making that decision.”

“I just did.” I would be out of here by noon tomorrow. You could bet on it.

“The doctors make that decision,” Cross pointed out.

“No, they advise me.” And I wasn’t going to take their advice anymore.

“That’s not how this works,” Cross chuckled.

“It’s exactly how it works. They can’t fucking chain me to the bed.”

Cross tilted his head. “Pretty sure they can if you keep acting like this.”

“Fuck you.”

Anchor stepped closer to the bed. “What is your doctor actually saying?”

I knew this was coming. “They go back and forth.”

His face flattened. “That means what?”

“It means one says soon. Another wants a couple more days. Physical therapy wants me stronger.”