Page 423 of Power Play

I couldn’t answer. Briggs pulled me into him before I had to.

His arms locked around my back while avoiding the brace, and mine closed around him just as hard. I didn’t know whether I would’ve survived the past six weeks without him. He took every version of my anger and refused to mistake any of it for a reason to leave. He stood in front of El Cuchillo, absorbed everything that motherfucker threw, and kept reaching for Ryan beneath him.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” I said against his shoulder.

“You don’t have to.”

“You followed me when I told everyone to stay away.”

“You sounded like you needed someone.”

“I hit you.”

“You punch like a bitch.”

I laughed and tightened my hold around him. “You held me together when I didn’t want to survive it.”

Briggs’s breathing changed. “I will always follow you,” he said. “Even when you’re wrong. Even when you hate me for showing up. You’re my brother.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He hugged me again before letting me go, but he kept one hand against the back of my neck.

“Milwaukee,” he said.

“Milwaukee.”

“Save me a stall.”

“I’ll make sure it’s far from mine.”

“You’ll miss me.”

“I already do.”

Briggs stepped away before either of us lost whatever control remained.

Cade waited near the door.

He wasn’t crying. Cade didn’t fall apart where anyone could see him, and neither did I unless Briggs trapped my arms and gave me no other choice. His eyes were red, though, and his throat worked around whatever he refused to say.

Looking at him returned me to New York.

We met as teenagers in a community hockey league, two pissed-off kids from different lives who somehow recognized the same kind of loneliness in each other. Cade had equipment that fit and people expecting him to go home after practice. I carried everything I owned and made sure no one knew I didn’t have a home waiting for me.

He never asked what I could offer before deciding I was his friend.

Years later, he told me to come to Kimball Falls with him so I wouldn’t be alone. Every life I built here began with Cade making room beside him and expecting nothing in return except that I show up.

He was the first person I trusted after my mother died. The first person who had my back without trying to own me, place me, fix me, or demand that I become useful enough to earn it.

Cade took the Milwaukee Inferno cap from my head, turned it backward, and put it back on.

“You looked like an asshole,” he said.

“I still look like an asshole.”