Page 9

“Gotta go. Come on.” He raced ahead to the rig, filling me in on the way. “Football practice accident of some kind. Player ran into a coach, knocked both their wind out, and another player called 911.”

“Eric’s kid?” Our lead paramedic had a senior on the football team, and the last thing I wanted was for him to walk into a situation with his own kid.

“He’s the one who called 911.” Tate gave a tight smile. “Thoughtful enough to tell dispatch to tell his dad he’s okay.”

“Good kid.” I nodded as I hopped into the rig where Eric was already waiting. “We good to go?”

“Let’s roll.” Tate pumped the gas, and we sped the short distance to Mount Hope High School’s football field. The parking lot was full of players leaving from practice, but several remained clustered around two prone forms on the ground. Tony, the coach, waved Eric over to look at one of the players, leaving me to assess the other?—

“Stu?” My eyes went wide. I’d known his kid played football, but somehow, I’d missed the detail that Stu helped coach. My stomach gave a hard, visceral clench. I’d seen no shortage of truly gory stuff in my years on duty, and never once had my lunch threatened to reappear like it was presently.

“Hey, Percy.” Stu managed a weak greeting from his position on the ground as I kneeled beside him. He was far paler than normal and looked smaller from this angle as well. Fragile. Human.Fuck. Now my hands were shaking.

“Where does it hurt?” I asked, trying my damnedest to sound professional and failing miserably.

“I’m okay.” Stu waved away my concern. “I help Tony with coaching the defense, but it was the offense that got me today. Rookie wide receiver crashed into me on the sideline. I’m more worried about him.”

“Eric’s checking him out.” I glanced over to where Tate and Eric were working on the kid. “911 said you got the wind knocked out of you? Did you lose consciousness?”

“Nah.” Stu shrugged, then winced as he coughed. “Just couldn’t speak for long enough for the team to panic and someone to call it in. Which is good because I think Forest is gonna need that knee looked at.”

Continuing to grimace, he reached down and rubbed his ankle.

“What’s wrong with your ankle?”

“Twisted it along with a couple of decent scrapes.” He turned his calf to reveal a good-sized patch of road rash with grass and dirt sticking to it. “I’ll be feeling it tomorrow, but nothing’s broken.”

It could have been.The thought slammed into me. Stu could have been seriously injured. I’d be concerned about any friend, but the urge to gather Stu into my arms and hold him close was a new one. Hadn’t felt that way since…

Oh shit.

No. I refused to fall for Stu. He was a buddy who was hurt. That was all.

“I’m going to check on you later,” I said gruffly.

“You do that.” Stu glanced around before lowering his voice. “Kids are having dinner with their mom. I’ll be home alone with some ice packs.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go in?” I reached for my medical kit. “Or at least let me clean those scrapes?”

“I’m fine, Percy.”

“Percy?” Eric summoned me before I could push again, and by the time we had the kid and his wrenched knee situated on a gurney for transport, Stu had hobbled off the field under his own power. He’d signed a waiver for Tate, declining transport of his own, leaving me to rush to his doorstep the moment my shift ended.

“I’m fine,” Stu said in lieu of greeting me. He looked freshly showered, but the pink scrapes on his legs and one on his cheek made me want to hug him again. To stifle that urge, I held out the paper bag I’d brought. “What’s this?”

“Dinner.” I’d swung by our favorite Chinese place on my way to his house. “I figured you wouldn’t want to cook while juggling ice packs. Got that noodle dish you liked last time.”

“Thank you.” Stu’s expression softened as he ushered me into the living room. “I’ll return to said ice and the couch if you want to grab plates from the kitchen.”

I’d spent enough time here over the last month or so that I knew where he kept the plates and silverware. I fetched us each a beer, noting he now kept my favorite brand alongside his.Cozy.My stomach twisted again, suddenly none too sure about dinner.

When I returned to the living room, Stu had set the food on the coffee table before stretching out on his couch, ice packs on his ankle, knee, and ribs.

“You should have let us take you in,” I scolded as I dished up a plate of food for him. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“I’m not hurt.” Stu struggled to sit up, wincing again as he accepted the plate. “Maybe a little banged up. But I’m okay.”

“I’m going to check your ribs.” I glowered at him. “What if you cracked something?”