It’d been a trying month, lately with Zellman since he learned Sunday was already in Florida to be with her aunt.

Then I turned around, and my brother was standing frozen on the front step.

His gaze was stuck on my face and he sucked in his breath. “Holy shit.” His jaw clenched. “Who did this?”

That jolt happened again, but this time it was harder, faster. It spread through me.

I was rattled.

“What?”

“Who the fuck did this to you?” He jerked his chin up, indicating me.

Bren came to my side, her hand resting on my back and she walked around me. Looking out at his truck, she asked him, “It’s two in the morning. Why don’t you come in?”

He clipped his head to the side, jerking back a step. “No. No. I’m good. Just need to know who did this to you.” He was looking at me, speaking to me, but his answer was directed toward Bren. “Got an email. Who did this to you?”

A full ten seconds.

That’s how long it took before it penetrated, but—my brother gave a shit about me.

He cared.

That knowledge warmed me, and that shocked me.

Blaise.

I had no idea how to process this.

“You can’t touch this guy—” Bren started to say.

“Cross,” Blaise growled.

“Seriously. It was a bail jump. Cross hurt him worse.”

He cared. The motherfucker actually cared.

“I’m fine.”

“You shitting me?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

He looked me up and down. “You don’t look fine.” He let out a curse, his hands in fists. “I’m going to have to go to the soccer field and do drills till the morning now. I can’t hurt someone.”

Bren’s hand pressed into my side and she looked up at me.

Her gaze was beseeching, and crap.

I said before I really thought about what I was saying, “I’ll go with you.”

His eyes narrowed. “You look like you can barely stand.”

I grinned. I didn’t look that bad, just not quite as pretty as before. “I’ll be the prettier one of us real soon. The guy only roughed me up a little. And I’ll come with. I can just sit or whatever. I can retrieve the ball for you or something if you do shots on goal.” My grin deepened. “Because we both know you’ll miss. Your aim is for shit.”

He half-laughed. “Fuck you.” Then, a cocky smirk. “You can be goalie.”

I barked out a laugh and groaned right away. My ribs were hurting from that, too.

He raked his hand through his hair. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll drive and bring you back.” He said to Bren, “Don’t worry. I won’t work him over too bad. Can’t. The fucker’s half-incapacitated.”

She waited as he left before pressing both hands to my chest. “You sure about this?”