None of the discoveries were Earth-shattering. Nothing left me feeling in danger or exposed. But as they piled up, they created this slow, steady pull towards the man who now lay sprawled out on the sand. His long-sleeved workout shirt rode up just a bit, revealing a V of muscle that had me swallowing and averting my gaze.

“What’s your plan for the day?” I asked.

“Besides crying because you were so mean to me?”

I laughed, but it turned into a grimace as my shoulder and ribs protested the action. I rubbed at the joint, trying to relieve the flash of nerve pain that often acted up after a hard workout or a long playing session.

Brody sat up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I might’ve pushed things a little too hard today.” I dug my fingers into the flesh at my shoulder, searching for the trigger point that might provide relief.

He pushed to his feet, crossing to me. “Looks like more than that.”

“Just an old injury.” It wasn’t a lie, but I was sure Brody would think a sports incident or a fall from the monkey bars, not a stab wound inflicted by my brother.

He reached out. “Here, let me. I’ll get a better angle.”

I moved in a flash, scrambling back. “N-no. Thank you. I’m fine.”

Brody’s eyes widened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cross a line.”

Everything in me seized at the hurt in his eyes. Pain that I’d put there. “No. It’s not that. It’s just a tricky issue, and if people don’t know what they’re doing, it can hurt.” And if anyone massaged the tissue there, they’d feel the scars. Healed wounds that I didn’t have an explanation for.

His stance relaxed. “Oh. That sucks. Are you seeing a doctor or a physical therapist?”

“No. I did for a long time, but there’s nothing else they can do. It’s not a big deal. It only bothers me sometimes.” And every time it did, I was reminded of that night. How the pain I felt now was only a flicker of what it had been. The days I’d spent in the hospital. The weeks in the rehab facility. The months of physical therapy afterwards.

Brody’s brow furrowed. “Maybe it’s worth checking out what’s available on Anchor or Shelter. There could be new treatments available that you don’t know about.”

“I keep pretty up-to-date,” I lied. “There’s nothing new.” More like there was nothing but a life-threatening emergency that would get me into a doctor’s office. I didn’t have insurance, and I didn’t need the paper trail.