Page 2 of Cruel Start

I dropped to the grass beside my brother. His arm was at an awkward angle.Fuck.“How bad does it feel?”

“Hurts like hell, but I’m fine.” Shane grimaced.

“Gotta say, bro, I’m glad we don’t have that weird twin thing because it looks painful.”

“Piss off. Help me up.”

That was my surly brother. A sliver of reassurance pushed the dread away as I reached for his good arm to help him up. Cole supported Shane’s right arm as he rolled onto his feet. His injured limb dangled by his side, even with Cole’s aid.

“That doesn’t look good.” I hated to say it for many reasons, one being that our mom would find out and panic.

As an ER nurse, she hadn’t been crazy about us coming up to blow off some steam before we officially moved. She’d said she had a bad feeling about it. She was right.

“You know we’ll have to go to the hospital.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “And Mom will hear about it.”

Shane scowled, some of the pain obscured by his frown lines. “You call her.”

I didn’t bother arguing with him as we slowly walked to where I’d parked. Sky and Riley rushed over, Tracey not far behind.

“We’re going with,” Sky said.

She slid into the car with Damon while I helped Shane into the passenger seat.

Cole tapped the roof of my SUV after I got Shane settled. “Riley and I’ll meet you there. We can take Tracey.” He glanced to where she’d hung back with Smith and a few other guys.

“No”—Tracey’s half smile was weak—“I’ll grab a ride. I can talk to Shane later.”

I shoved the anger at her response deep into my gut. I bet she would find a ride, and it would be with one of the guys we’d played with. I’d caught her flirting more than once, but Shane was oblivious. God, I hated her.

Shane’s grimace jerked me back to how much pain he was in. The urgency I’d felt since he’d hit the ground came back in a rush. I pulled onto the street and took the shortest route to the hospital. Cole followed.

By the time we got there, parked, and waited for our turn, an hour had passed before we saw a doctor. He looked close to retirement with white hair and a bushy mustache that seemed to have a personality of its own, a stoic one.

“Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Mathews.” His caterpillar eyebrows climbed his forehead. “There’s an awful lot of you. How about some wait in the—oh.” Recognition sparked in his faded-blue eyes as he paused on Cole. “I know you. You made that interception and ran the field last homecoming. Damn good player. Keep that up, and you have a promising career ahead of you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Cole nodded then shifted his gaze pointedly to Shane, whose frown only deepened the longer he sat immobile on the stark-white hospital bed.

“I’ll go out on a limb here and guess this is a football injury?” the doc inquired.

Shane mumbled a response then clenched his teeth against the poking and prodding as the doctor examined him. I shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with the amount of pain bracketing his mouth.

“Your shoulder is dislocated. I will pop it back in.” The doc’s bushy mustache barely moved as his lips formed each word. “You’ll be in a sling for a few weeks then PT, but you should be fine to play after that.”

The nurse ushered everyone out as they got ready to set Shane’s dislocated shoulder back into its socket. I refused to go.

The doc maneuvered Shane’s arm into a ninety-degree position by holding his wrist, guiding the bone back into the shoulder socket. It gave a small pop. I shivered at the sound and Shane’s audible grunt of discomfort. They fastened a sling around his neck and arm and pressed ice against his shoulder. Once finished, the doctor left, and the nurse said she would be back with the discharge paperwork, physical therapy orders, and instructions.

I slumped into the chair by his bed when it was just us. One look at his drawn face, and I knew how much it weighed on him that Tracey wasn’t by his side. I would never understand how my idiot brother couldn’t see what she was all about.

“Hey”—I leaned forward, elbows to knees—“if you have to sit out a few games, it’s no big deal.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Yeah, it was, but I kept my mouth shut. We had four years, but to both of us, not playing was like getting a limb cut off.

“I better not lose Tracey over this.”

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