Ryker #2
Freddie wets his lips with his tongue before answering. “Shocked that I thought he might be considering it. He was . . . in a good mood that morning. He even . . .” He chuckles and drops his gaze to the bed.
“What?” Liam asks.
“He noticed my neck.” Freddie glances to me, then to Liam. “You two had mauled me and marked it. He found it . . . he found it amusing. He thought I’d ditched work the day before for a hookup, but he wasn’t angry. He laughed, told me not to make a habit out of it.”
Liam’s scribbling away in his notepad. “Which was unusual for him?”
“Yeah, I guess so, this last year at least. He’s been much more uptight. What . . . what has Stephen got to do with the fire?”
“Thank you for your time,” Liam says as he flips his notepad shut.
He turns and leaves.
“Jesus,” I whisper.
Freddie gives me a small smile, and I’m relieved he knows Liam. He knows Liam’s lack of care is in fact the opposite. He knows Liam will need him later, when he’s ready.
“Water,” Freddie croaks.
“Coming up,” I say. I twist my body to grab the jug on the bedside cabinet—and yes, there’s that throb in my back. It’s stiffening up fast.
Freddie drags his mask down. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re heavy,” I wink. “Not that I mind carrying you on my back, but as a preference, I’d prefer to carry you on my front. Naked.”
I pour him a glass of water then bring it to his lips. He doesn’t protest my help, but he narrows his eyes as he takes a few sips. “If I had more energy, I’d pour that cup over your head.”
I ease him back down to the pillow, then slide the mask over his lips and nose. He takes it from me, and that evil glare he’s attempting softens to a gaze. He turns his head for a better angle to keep looking at me, and those eyes I’m so grateful to see again fill with tears.
“Babe.” I stroke his cheek. “It’s okay.”
“Thank you.”
“No, no, no, you never have to thank me.”
“I would’ve died—”
I shush him and press my finger to his mask since I can’t touch his lips. “Don’t think about it.”
“You could’ve died if things had gone wrong.”
“I didn’t, and you didn’t, and we’re both still here. And Liam is too, and we’re going to take you home as soon as the doctor gives you the green light. I’ve bought crumpets, and olives, and Smarties, and banana milkshake.”
“Am I dreaming right now?”
I link our fingers again. “That depends. Is it a good kind of dream?”
Freddie nods and his eyes slip shut.
He sleeps most of the day, only waking for the occasional coughing fit.
I rub his chest, but I think it helps me just to do something more than it actually helps him.
Freddie’s traded whimpers for curses hissed through his teeth.
The nurse brings him ice chips and me buttered toast. I doze, then become alert to some sixth sense, some awareness that Freddie’s still asleep but someone else isn’t.
I turn, then instantly regret it when my back twinges.
“Thought you could do with these,” Liam says.
He tosses a box of ibuprofen my way, which I catch against my chest. “Thank you.” I spin the box in my hand. “The nurse gave me a quick once-over.”
“You mean he or she checked you out?”
I laugh, but Liam remains straight-faced.
“No, they examined my back and said painkillers and a few days rest should sort me out.”
I pop two pills from the foil packet, then down them with a gulp of Freddie’s water. I doubt he’ll mind. He’s sleeping peacefully now, no longer wheezing, and his even breaths are a comfort instead of a source of anxiety.
“If that’s the case, why are you only just having those now?” Liam tips his head in the direction of the box in my lap.
“I wasn’t going to leave Freddie on his own, was I?”
I regret the words as soon as they’ve left my mouth. Liam doesn’t react.
“You saved him,” I say.
That gets a reaction. He snarls, flashing his teeth. “Don’t.”
“It’s the truth. You got through to him on the phone. You got him to the window. You told him to shout my name.”
“You would’ve gotten him out with or without me.”
“No,” I snap. Freddie stirs in his sleep but doesn’t wake. “We saved him. And not just us, Darren and Martin and Amy, Zack in the control room, the man who made the call from across the street. Don’t give me credit for something I didn’t do alone.”
“I didn’t know what to say to him,” Liam mumbles.
“I didn’t know what advice to give him. My mind went blank, I fell silent.
For ten minutes I listened to his breathing getting worse, and I know he kept that phone to his ear, waiting for me to say something reassuring, or to tell him what to do, but I didn’t.
I went quiet on him when he needed me the most.”
“He knows you, Liam—”
“I stood there and watched, and if . . . if it had been too late, my last words to him would’ve been ‘Keep breathing, Freddie.’”
“Very practical.”
“Don’t take the piss out of me.”
I look away from him.
“I don’t deserve him,” Liam whispers.
I slowly untangle my fingers from Freddie’s and get to my feet. The shooting pains that run up my spine are worth it as I turn to face my brother. Not Sergeant Bridges, but Liam. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“We’re so close; you’re so close. You’ve been in love with him since you were nine years old. Before you consciously knew it, you loved him.”
Liam drops his gaze to the floor. “I shut the door in his face when he needed me, when his dad had tormented him again. I turned him away—”
“We both made that mistake—”
“And I let him down last night. I went quiet on him. I couldn’t save him. I had to watch, and I know I’m going to let him down again. I’d rather he never be mine than have him and let him down.”
I close the distance between us and rest my hands on his shoulders. He tenses.
“Listen to me. Sometimes—and I’ll admit these sometimes are few and far between—but sometimes I know best. You’re scared, you almost lost him today, you could’ve lost both of us, and this is fear talking.
It’s the flighty side of the fight or flight, but I need you to fight for him, for us, all three of us.
” I rub his tight muscles. “Because it’s not a fight with anyone else, the threat is coming from you, and its dressing itself up as a solution, but it’s not one where any of us will end up happy, least of all you. ”
“What if I can’t be what he needs?”
I slide my hands to Liam’s throat, and lightly, with zero malice or true intent, throttle him. “You’ve always been what he needs. We both are.”
Liam slumps, then folds all the way to rest his head on my shoulder. The hug, if it can be called that, lasts less than ten seconds, then he straightens.
“I’m going to find out who did it,” he says, and like that, he’s Sergeant Bridges again. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I know who did it.”
“Is that why you were asking about Stephen, Freddie’s boss?”
Liam nods. “He’s at the station now. I’m going to drive there in a bit. As soon as the doctor discharges you, call me, and I’ll take you both home.”
I bite my lip, and force back my knee-jerk reaction. I don’t tell him to stay, let someone else deal with Stephen, instead I nod, one quick movement of my head. Liam needs the job right now. He needs to catch whoever is responsible for Freddie’s injuries.
“How long has he been asleep?” Liam asks.
“A few hours. It’s deep . . .”
Liam rocks on his heels, then strolls up to the bed. He takes hold of Freddie’s hand in a gentle grip, swipes his thumb back and forth over his knuckles a few times, then lets go.
“I’ll be back for you later,” he says before he leaves, and I allow a small smile.
That growl sounded more like my brother.