Page 83 of Crew
He stopped just before touching me. His hand flexed. He let out a harsh breath. "Goddamn." His touch was gentle as he cupped the side of my face.
"I'm okay." I winced as I said that.
He pulled his hand away, shaking his head. His eyes were hard and dark. "Someone called your brother, and he called us on his way. We almost beat him here. Holy fuck, Bren." He breathed out again, shakily. He rested his forehead gently to mine. "I lost about two years of my life, seeing you like that."
My throat swelled, and I blinked away some water in my eyes, because that's what it had to be.
"I'm okay." I was in pain, but I was okay. No one had sliced or diced me.
His eyes closed. He didn't move away.
This was Cross. He was my best friend. He was more family than Channing or Scratch. He was more than... I stopped thinking.
I closed my eyes and breathed out in relief too.
The ER nurse saw us and harrumphed. "You guys again. This week is complete now that I've seen you guys--or handiwork from you guys."
Jordan and Zellman started laughing, but I caught the dark cloud on her face. She wasn't amused. When the doctor came in to examine me, she booted them all out. Cross didn't move from his seat.
"Gotta go," she told him.
He locked eyes with her. His jaw firmed. "I'm not going."
She looked at me.
"He's family," I said.
She turned back to him.
He smiled.
"He's your brother?" she asked, but she knew us. She knew the truth.
"He'll look away if I tell him to."
She sighed and went out the door. The doctor didn't blink an eye at Cross' presence. He did all the usual exams, checking out my cuts and the bruises already starting to form. He pressed a hand over my stomach, listened to my lungs. He asked if I was having problems breathing.
Everything hurt, but my breathing was fine.
There were no knife wounds anywhere. I'd just been hit.
Thirty minutes later, after debating whether an x-ray was even needed, I was released.
"Clean bill of health?" Jordan asked when Cross and I got back to the lobby.
I shot him a look.
He laughed, and Cross answered for me. "She's got some nice painkillers to take, but that's it."
I stretched out my arm. A nasty bruise was fully black already, taking the shape of a boot.
"Looks like Florida," Zellman said.
"Or a boot," I countered.
He grinned. "That too."
"Who kicked you?" Jordan asked.
