Page 28 of Flashback for the Forward

That wouldn’t do, but she definitely needed something in her stomach so that the meds didn’t make her nauseous.

“I could go for a cup of coffee. How about you?”

“Of course, I’ll get a pot started right away.” Bridget started for the stairs. “I can make some eggs, too, if you’re hungry.”

“Wait.” Forcing my stiff body to move quickly took effort, but I managed to catch up with her. “I didn’t say that with the expectation that you’d cook for me.”

She spun around. “It’s really no trouble.”

“I get that, but you’re my guest.”

“Cole.” My name came out on a sigh as her eyes dropped to the floor. “You’ve done so much for me. The least I can do is make you breakfast.”

If she thought that my taking her in last night was a hardship, she was sorely mistaken.

“Can I suggest a compromise?”

Her gaze snapped up to meet mine. “What kind of compromise?”

“You take care of the coffee, and I’ll man the stove.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind—”

“Positive,” I cut her off.

If I had it my way, she’d never lift a damn finger for the rest of her life.

“Mmm. This is good.” I lowered the mug from my lips after taking a fortifying sip.

Bridget huffed out a laugh. “I can’t take too much credit. All I did was pop a pod into the machine.”

I turned back to the stove, where bacon sizzled in a cast-iron pan, biting back a smile. “Tell that to Crew. He manages to burn the coffee every time he comes over.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

The Astor twins and Russell siblings had grown up together, our moms becoming fast friends after meeting in the hospital nursery on the day Crew, Bennett, and I were born. So Bridget knew my brother almost as well as I did, even if she hadn’t seen him in nearly a decade. As I’d told her last night, he hadn’t done much growing up in all that time.

Tossing veggies into the omelet I was making for us to share, I remarked, “It’s a good thing he has pre-packaged meals delivered every week, or he’d be beating down my door three times a day begging to be fed.”

Almost as if on cue, the doorbell sounded.

Shaking my head, I muttered, “Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.”

When I peeked over my shoulder at Bridget, she’d gone pale as a sheet, her eyes wide with fear. “H-he found me,” she choked out.

I abandoned the food cooking on the stove, moving to her side slowly so as not to frighten her further.

“It’s just Crew,” I reassured her.

Her breaths came out in shallow pants. “Y-you don’t know that.”

Keeping my voice calm, I replied, “I do. He always stops by if we don’t have practice the morning after a game so that we can watch film together.”

A relieved sob bubbled up from Bridget’s chest as her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor before I could catch her.

Uttering a curse low under my breath, I dropped down beside her, visually checking for new injuries as a result of that fall.

Not finding any, I whispered, “I’m going to keep you safe. I promise.”