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Scottie stared at me like I was crazy. I couldn’t believe it. The man was actually insane.

“Let me see if I can explain this to you.” He cleared his throat. “Now, his wife is the one we want to keep calm. My wife doesn’t matter.”

“Then why did you call her?”

“So that she wouldn’t worry.”

I bit my lip, trying my best not to yell again. “But she’s not the one we have to worry about scaring.”

“I know,” he said slowly. “Which is why I didn’t call Harper.” Scoffing, the man shook his head at me. “Look, I told Quinn that we were delayed, but we’d be home soon. That way, she’ll tell the other wives that everything’s okay. This will keep Harper calm because she’ll have no idea what’s happening. Problem solved.”

“Except that if he doesn’t wake up from whatever the hell this is, you’re going to have a really hard time explaining why you didn’t tell her sooner.”

“Yeah, well…that’s on you. I mean, I’m not the team leader. Do you think we can get football in here?” He snatched the remote for the television and turned it on, effectively shutting me out.

“He’s right,” Brock said, continuing to read his porn.

“This is not following protocol,” I said, stomping over to Brock and snatching the Playboy out of his hands.

“Hey! I was reading that!”

“This is serious, you guys! Your friend is in the hospital!”

“Yeah, but he just hit his head on a pew,” Scottie said, flipping through the channels.

“Yes, and he’s not awake!” I stressed.

Sighing, he sat up. “You’re taking this way too seriously. It happened in church. No one dies in church.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Then explain to me why there have literally been people who died in churches before!”

I shoved my phone in his face, showing him the article about the murders occurring in churches I’d just found.

“Well, I mean, those were from bad people.”

“We were with bad people,” I pointed out. “Men passing out drugs? Ring any bells?”

He scratched his jaw in thought. “Okay, you might have a point, but those were from murderers. Tell me how many people randomly die in church, and then we can have a conversation.”

I searched the internet, but to my surprise, there were no statistics on that, which just bugged the hell out of me.

“There have to be people who die in church. Just because I can’t find it doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.”

“I think that’s some sort of deliverance thing,” Brock said, flipping to another page.

“What are you talking about? Can we get back to the point that your friend is in the hospital and we have no idea what we’re going to say to Harper?”

“Nothing,” Scottie shrugged. “He’ll wake up in a few hours and be right as rain.”

“But he’s not supposed to be unconscious for hours!” I snapped. “Don’t you get it? That means traumatic brain injury. That means complications. That means⁠—”

“You’re way too worried about this,” Brock finished. “He’s probably having some amazing dream right now, and you’re keeping him from enjoying it because you won’t stop yelling at him.”

“Amazing dream?” I scoffed. “Do you have any idea what it’s like when you’re unconscious?”