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“Any word about how much longer we have to be here?”
Willa shook her head. “No news yet.”
“Trust me. When shit goes hot, you’ll be wishing for moments like this. All of us stepping on each other’s toes, too many bodies crammed into one space, having to cook for large groups. All of it.” Darcy took a sip of her wine and settled back in her seat.
“What kind of place are you looking for?” Willa asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.
“Don’t know. We haven’t really discussed it,” I said. “I mean, not specifics, anyway. Space, though. Space sounds nice. And anything that’s not a trailer.”
“Makes sense,” Darcy said.
“I like your house,” I said to Willa. “But Viper and I don’t need that much space.”
“Yet,” she teased.
“Yet,” I agreed with a smile.
The back door opened, and soft footsteps trekked across the floor before Lily appeared.
“Hey, Lily Burger,” Darcy said.
Lily wedged herself between Willa and Darcy on the couch and put her head in Darcy’s lap.
“What’s wrong?” Darcy asked as she ran her fingers through Lily’s curls.
“I don’t feel well,” Lily muttered.
“Sit up for me,” Darcy said.
Lily sat up and Darcy pressed her lips to her daughter’s forehead. “You’re warm.”
“I don’t…” Lily paused and then vomited all over Darcy’s lap.
“Wow, that’s a lot of puke.” I hopped off the recliner and ran to the kitchen for paper towels.
“Oh, God, the smell,” Willa said, pinching her nose. She shot up from the couch, a hand pressed to her mouth. Willa ran outside and I heard the unmistakable sounds of retching.
“Leave it,” Darcy said as she stood, picking up Lily and putting her to her shoulder. “I’ll clean it up after I clean her up.”
“I got it,” I assured her. “Feel better, Lily Burger.”
Lily buried her face in her mother’s neck and Darcy carted her out of the room.
Willa came back into the clubhouse, looking a little bit green.
“So, babies, huh?” I asked, ripping a paper towel from the roll. “Think I’ll be holding off for a while.”
Chapter42
A waveof flu hit the clubhouse. By that evening, not only did Lily have a temperature over one hundred, but several other people did too.
It started with the kids—Silas and Cam got sick almost immediately. But then Waverly and Sailor came down with it.
By day three, half the bikers were laid up in bed. The healthy ones had to do double guard time.
“This is one nasty bug,” Doc said as she washed her hands in the kitchen sink. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” I assured her as I stirred another batch of chicken soup.
