Page 86 of Flashback for the Forward

“Sure,” Dr. Briggs replied. “But make it quick.”

Already moving, I tossed over my shoulder, “Just give me five minutes.”

Hustling my ass to the locker room, I stripped faster than I ever had in my life, mentally apologizing to those on shift at the hospital tonight for the hockey stink I didn’t have time to wash off. Tossing a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt over my base layer, I ran back to the treatment room.

Out of breath, I huffed. “Ready.”

Crew groaned, extending a hand with his eyes closed. “Cole?”

“Right here, bud.” I stepped up to his side, taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You get even?” he asked.

“They kicked me out before I could.” There was no point in lying to him, not when he’d catch the replay later. “But I will,” I promised.

A corner of my brother’s lips twitched. “Can’t wait to hear what got goody-two-shoes Captain Cole ejected.”

Chuckling, I ran my free hand through my hair. “There may have been some reference to blind ref jokes.”

“Classic.” Amusement filtered into his voice.

EMTs filtered into the room, helping Crew onto the gurney they brought with them, and I braced for the long night that lay ahead.

As expected, we spent hours at the hospital. Levi and Jagger were nice enough to drive my car over and park it in the lot, ready and waiting for when it was finally time to go home.

The doctors at SD General determined that a nasty concussion was the extent of Crew’s injuries, unable to give a definitive timeline on how long it would take for his brain to heal—every case, every individual, was different in that regard.

Crew was a cranky mess by the time they discharged him, and he passed out in the passenger seat within seconds of buckling his seatbelt. Vision blurry from the sheer exhaustion of being awake for close to twenty-four hours straight, I drove through the entrance to our shared neighborhood just as the sun began to crest on the horizon.

Since my brother lived alone, I guaranteed the doctors I’d keep an eye on him while he recovered, so instead of dropping him off at his place, I pulled into my garage.

Killing the ignition, I let my head fall back against the seat and my eyes drifted shut.

I must’ve fallen asleep because I was jarred awake by someone knocking on the driver’s side window, my sharp cry of surprise filling the cabin.

Crew groaned, lifting a hand to his head. “Too loud.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, rubbing at my bleary eyes before shifting them to find Bridget standing outside my car window.

She tugged the door open, her lips turned down in a frown. “You should have ordered a car to drive you home if you were so tired you couldn’t make it inside the house without falling asleep.” Leaning into the car, she pressed her forehead to mine and said softly, “I can’t lose you, Cole. Not after I just got you back.”

Guilt hit me square in the chest. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Dusting her lips over mine, she withdrew, training her gaze on Crew. “He okay?”

I lifted one shoulder. “Depends on your definition of okay. He’ll recover, but there’s no telling if the damage from that hit will fuck him up twenty or thirty years down the road.”

Bridget hauled in a deep breath. “If it does, we’ll handle it.”

Hope filled my chest like a balloon. This was the first time she hinted that she planned to stick around—with me—long-term.

Not in any hurry to tempt fate, I didn’t draw attention to what her statement implied. Instead, I climbed out of the vehicle, pulling Bridget into a quick hug before rounding the trunk to help Crew exit from the passenger’s side.

My brother used me as a human crutch as we shuffled through the mudroom, past the kitchen, and into the living room. I eased him onto the larger of the two couches, and within seconds, he got comfortable enough to pass out again.

Turning to face Bridget, I noted the dark circles under her eyes. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

She shook her head. “Not a lot. I drifted off a few times, but kept waking up, checking my phone for updates.”