Chapter 43 #2
“You’re okay, Huddy Buddy,” Briggs whispers, more to himself than Hudson.
Col looks pained as he watches the two of them, obviously knowing something I don’t.
I hate that Briggs hasn’t confided in me about his past, but I only want his truths if he’s ready to give them to me.
We spend a few more minutes loving on Hudson, trying to erase the altercation from his mind.
As if he doesn’t have enough bad memories to contend with, the last thing he needs is a bully targeting him at his favorite park.
Once we’ve got Hudson buckled in his car seat, I climb in beside him, much to Col’s dismay.
He’s too much of a gentleman to take the front seat without being forced to.
We’re quiet for several minutes, navigating the heavy midday traffic until we reach the highway.
Holding Hudson’s hand as he falls asleep, I close my eyes and rest my head against the back of the seat, thinking over everything that transpired at the playground.
If there’s one thing that’s become abundantly clear since knowing Briggs, it’s that he’s fiercely protective of the people he cares about.
But for the life of me, I can’t harmonize the two distinctly different sides of him: the prickly asshole who speaks his mind, regardless of who he’s insulting, and the doctor whose job title surely required a certain level of decorum and bedside manner.
My poorly contained amusement starts as a strangled snort, then devolves into a giggle, and before I know it, I’m outright cackling.
Col peers across Hudson’s car seat, his green eyes probing, likely wondering if I’m having some type of episode.
His worry for my mental state only spurs me on.
Tears streak my cheeks as I finally manage to formulate words.
“Briggs cussed a kid out.” An amused grin takes over Col’s face, and then he, too, is doubled over laughing. Briggs huffs indignantly from the driver’s seat, muttering beneath his breath about the little asshole deserving it.
“You called him a felon,” Col wheezes, our laughter feeding off of one another’s. “You, the one with a rap sheet, had the audacity to label him a criminal.”
“I have misdemeanors, Col. Misdemeanors," Briggs emphasizes.
It takes us a while to pull ourselves together, but the moment of levity was much needed.
I haven’t had very many instances in my life where behaving so freely was allowed, and I realize there truly is something magical about laughing until you’re crying.
By some miracle, Hudson is still sleeping soundly.
He needs the rest after being up and down half the night, but I’m hopeful that Dr. Taggart is on to something and we can narrow down a possible trigger if it continues happening.
“I never realized this before, but it dawned on me earlier that Hudson’s never reacted badly when we’ve taken him to the park,” I comment, feeling guilty that it never occurred to me to slowly reintroduce him to a setting that could potentially resurface traumatizing memories.
“You would think if anything would trigger him, it’d be going back to a place that resembles where his mother was killed and he was taken. ”
“Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that we didn’t make a big deal of it,” Briggs replies.
I tilt my head, trying to decipher the deeper meaning behind his words.
Sensing my confusion, he elaborates, saying, “There have been times when I’ve catastrophized something in my head, building it up into this monumental hurdle.
But when it actually came time to face whatever it was that I was so afraid of, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it’d be.
Sometimes, the anticipation of facing your fear is far worse than the actual fear itself.
” I hate that his insight is coming from a place of experience.
Leaning forward, I place my hand on his shoulder, wanting him to know that I’m here, that I’ll always be here.
And though I might not know the details, I understand the type of pain that changes you on a molecular level.
“Col,” Briggs voices coolly, his sudden shift in attitude making me tense.
“That car’s been following us since we left Covey.
” Instinctively, I swivel in my seat to try and determine who he’s talking about.
“Gray Toyota sedan, late 2000s model.” I immediately spot the vehicle he’s referring to.
It’s several cars back, but as Briggs moves to the passing lane, they follow suit a few seconds later.
“Call Raiden,” Col instructs, his hand clenching the back of the passenger seat as he leans forward to check the sideview mirror. The sound of ringing fills the cabin of the SUV, and only a second later Raiden’s voice replaces it.
“I can’t handle another one of your calls if it’s going to end the same way as last time,” Raiden deadpans.
“Contrary to popular belief, blowing your load in the office isn’t excitingly dangerous and kinky.
It’s sticky and gross and leaves you uncomfortable for the rest of the day.
” A blush heats my cheeks as Col looks to me in question, but I turn my head and pretend to be clueless.
“Everything you just said was blasted over the car’s speakers,” Briggs snorts, but his lack of teasing him beyond that lets me know how concerned he is. “We’re being followed. Left Covey thirty minutes ago. They’ve been tailing us since.”
“You’re positive?” Raiden asks, the sound of shuffling echoing down the line.
“A hundred percent. I’ve switched lanes seven times, and right on cue, they follow,” Briggs responds, splitting his attention between the road and the rearview mirror.
“Stay calm and drive normally. Don’t try to lose them. I’ve got a patrol car in the vicinity of your exit ramp,” Raiden instructs, his take-charge voice making me squirm. Clearly, my body can’t decipher the adrenaline from fear versus excitement.
We wait with bated breath, none of us speaking as the exit to Chaplain comes into view.
Briggs veers off the highway at a normal speed, doing nothing to spook the car following us.
My gaze scans our surroundings, searching for the blue lights we’re expecting, but they’re nowhere to be found.
We merge with traffic, the gray sedan doing the same, keeping a careful distance between us.
“Fuck,” Raiden swears. “The unit I had on standby was tasked with another call.”
“So what’s Plan B?” Col asks impatiently, growing more frustrated by the second.
“Me,” Raiden states vehemently. “I’m the fucking plan.
” We hear the sound of his keys rattling, followed by the pounding of footsteps.
“Head home; I’ll meet you there. This motherfucker is in for a rude awakening if he thinks he’s getting within touching distance of our girl.
” My heart swells, but there’s no time to fawn over his sweet declaration.
The beep of his truck unlocking reaches our ears, and then his door slams, the truck roaring to life a moment later.
My breath rushes out of me, knowing he’s on his way to us.
“Andi, baby, stay close to the guys. Don’t engage; just get inside as quickly as possible. ”
“Okay,” I respond robotically.
“Shit,” Briggs swears, jerking the wheel and causing my shoulder to slam against the door. “He’s trying to cut us off, Raiden.”
“That piece of fucking shit,” Raiden roars, his panic bleeding through. “Listen to me, Briggs. At all costs, you keep her safe. Her, the baby, and Hudson are your top priority.”
“I would make a joke about being chopped liver, but I agree,” Col remarks dryly.