“Hold on,” I yell out. Reaching down, I grab a pair of boxers out of my suitcase that I left on the floor beside the bed and pull them on before forcing myself up to stand. I make my way slowly to the door and unlock it, opening it and then turning away. I can’t make them go away, but I don’t have to be welcoming, either.
“Beatle, why the fuck did we have to hear it from your agent that you arrived in town last night?”
That’s Sawyer. One of the twins, my youngest brother, and by far the most obnoxious, as evidenced by the goddamn nicknames he gave us all. He means well, but the guy has no filter and no limits.
“What Sawyer means is, if we’d known you were coming so soon, we’d have helped get you set up.” There’s Beckett, Sawyer’s twin, the yin to his yang. They couldn’t be more opposite, in every way except appearance.
“How’s your leg healing up?” And Max. The oldest of us, and the doctor. Only one missing is our younger sister Kat, but she’s probably busy with school.
“Shouldn’t you all be at work?” I grunt as way of answering them. Reaching the couch, I sit down and let the crutches fall to the side. “Why are you here?”
The three of them come to stand in front of me. If they weren’t my brothers and I didn’t have a lifetime of experience dealing with them, I might be intimidated. We’re all big dudes, over six feet tall. And right now, they’re staring down at me with a mixture of pity, confusion, and frustration.
“We’re here so that Mom stops worrying.”
My head falls back with a groan. “Remind me to fire Stefan.”
The couch sinks beside me. “No. He did the right thing.”
I narrow my gaze at Max. “There was a reason I didn’t tell anyone I was coming. And it was to avoid this exact situation.”
He just stares back at me calmly. As a pediatrician at the local hospital, he’s used to dealing with stubborn, grumpy patients. Granted, his are usually a lot younger.
“And if we weren’t here, how would you be getting to physical therapy?” he asks pointedly, his eyes going to my leg. “That leg should be elevated.”
“I know,” I grumble, moving to lift it with my hands to prop it on the coffee table. Sawyer reaches down to help, and I smack his hands away. “I can do it, asshole.”
He steps back, lifting his hands up. “Okay, grump, I was just trying to help.”
“Max has a point, Jude. How were you going to get to therapy?” Beckett leans against the wall, looking concerned.
I just lift my shoulders in a shrug. Truth be told, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Back in Billings, either the team arranged a car for me or Shelley drove me. After she left, Kasey and Daphne helped out. I guess I never thought about needing rides now that I’m here. Inwardly, I groan, realizing as much as I don’t want to depend on anyone, I’ll need to.
“Fine. Thanks for coming to take me to therapy. But it doesn’t require all three of you.”
“Jesus, bro. Did it ever cross your mind we might be worried about you?”
I lift my head at the bark of Sawyer’s words. The other two are nodding in agreement, and I feel a trickle of remorse. But it’s gone when I remember the last thing I need right now is interfering family members. I just need to be left alone.
“Did it ever crossyourminds I might want to be left alone?” I bite back.
“That’s fair, but right now, you need to get to your appointment,” Max points out. I don’t bother asking how they know what time I’m due at the clinic; I just add it to the list of things I’ll yell at Stefan for later.
“Fine. But I need coffee first.”
“Clothes would be a good idea.” I catch Sawyer’s smirk and glare at him. At least his teasing is better than the hurt I heard in his voice earlier.
I struggle to stand up, but thankfully, my brothers heed my earlier warning and don’t try to help. Making my way into the bedroom, I grab the first set of clothes I can, which I’m glad is a pair of sweats and a hoodie. Crutching back into the living room, I catch my brothers standing in a huddle near the door, whispering.
“If you’re planning anything involving me, don’t.” I grab my phone and keys off the counter. “Unless it’s to stop at The Nutty Muffin and get coffee.”
We make our way outside where I spy Sawyer’s truck right out front.
“We figured I’d drive you the next few days. I’m off shift and the truck is probably the easiest for you to get in and out of,” he explains, walking over and opening my door. “And yes, we’ll get coffee on the way.”
I reach the truck and pause. I might be annoyed with them, but I can’t help but also feel a little bit grateful.
“Thanks, guys,” I say gruffly without meeting their eyes.
