Page 15 of Throw Down

He glared. “When have I ever—”

“Found the problem!” James shouted from under the hood, full of loud and aggressive cheer.He grabbed Derek by the elbow and hauled him over to inspect the damage.“Steering belt, right?”

Derek gave the engine a cursory inspection, bypassing the A/C compressor and testing the tension on the two belts behind it.A rusted bolt wobbled, and the alternator shifted.

“Alternator belt,” he grunted, catching his nephew’s pudgy hand as it reached for the hood.“Easy fix.”

“I’ll tell Ian,” Susan said, slipping her phone from her pocket.

“What’s he going to do?” Derek scoffed.He handed her the fussing toddler and gave his cheek a playful pinch before fishing his keys from his pocket.“Take the kids back home in my truck and text me your shopping list.I’ll take care of it.”

Susan resisted as he curled her fingers around the keys.“Don’t be stupid!” she protested. “You’ve been working all day, and Ian will be here soon.I can wait.”

He ignored her. “James! Get the car seats moved into the truck.”

“On it,” his brother grunted from inside the van.“Give me ninety seconds.”

Susan’s face was pinched in that weird little way she’d had ever since they were kids, mouth twisted until it looked like she had no lips.She was still wearing the same expression when James took her by the hand and guided her across the parking lot, children trailing behind them like a row ofducklings.

“I'll bring the van by later tonight,” Derek called afterher.

“You’re so stubborn!” she shoutedback.

She wasn’t wrong, but Derek didn’t consider that a bad thing. Stubbornness was all that kept him going.

Chapter Six

BRIAR

The Stop n’ Shop was small by any normal standards, but the cheerfully packed aisles yawned before Briar like a horrifying maze.His head throbbed, and the fluorescent lights stabbed right through his eyeballs like little daggers.The chill from the freezer section triggered a chain reaction of goosebumps. That was when he realized he probably had a fever.

“Feed a cold, starve a fever,” he muttered under his breath, pulling a brightly colored can off the shelf and squinting at the label.

That was what his foster mother used to say, anyway.Not that she'd ever bothered to feed them much.Even now, Briar was more likely to treat illness with a twinkie scavenged from the back of the kitchen cabinet than with fluids and Tylenol.But he was trying to do better.Be better. Reboot his life. It all started with good choices.

“What did you say?” Nate’s concern rumbled from the phone Briar had wedged between his shoulder and ear.

“Nothing.” Briar scanned the shelves, dizzy from the confusing array of products.“How do this many kinds of soup even exist?”

“Chicken,” Nate said. “You want chicken.”

“I’m not an idiot, you know.”

“You sure you’re okay? You were really struggling on rounds today.”

“Fine.” Briar braced himself against the shelves and hung his head until a wave of dizziness passed.“Just trying to figure out which of these soups won't taste like ass.Candace was helping, but she ducked behind the cash register as soon as I sneezed.Then she refused to come near me.”

“You should’ve let me give you a ride home, at least,” Nate said with a sigh.“I wouldn’t have left you on your own if I'd known how quickly you were going to go downhill.”

“I’m fine,” Briar repeated, but he ruined it with a congested cough.“Besides, you said Tucker is sick too.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But you should be with him,” Briar interrupted, trying to keep his tone light.“I’m a big boy. Wink, wink.”

The sound of Nate grinding his teeth rattled down the line, and Briar laughed despite himself.

“Don’t worry,” Briar assured him.“I never get really sick. I can sleep this off.I'm still planning to check on the in-patients this weekend.”

---