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easier on him, and on me. I usher him over to a dining room chair and sit his ass down.

    “No hospital, Nat. Frank told me—”

    “I’m going to do this on three, Josh. Can you count with me?” He shakes his head furiously. I lock my hips and take his arm, my right hand at the top of his shoulder, his elbow propped against my knee for leverage.

    “Nat, wait!”  

    “One,” I say.  

    “Oh fuck, one,” he groans.  

    “Two,” we say together. I launch my body against his and pop his shoulder back in place. The sound that comes out of him is something between a groan and a wail. I let out a sharp laugh before examining his shoulder to see if it’s actually in its proper place. His eyes bug out and he grimaces, gritting his teeth hard and growling loud.  

    “That wasn’t three,” he says. He groans again.  

    “It’s better if it’s not on three,” I say and snort. I grab my scrub pants from the floor and fashion a makeshift sling. The knot at the top might not be the most comfortable, but it’s the best I can do in a weird, awkward, and highly irritating situation. I slip the pants over his head and help him secure his elbow in the sling.  

    “What the hell is this? I see you’re already throwing your pants at me.” He chuckles at his lame joke, but he lets me assist him.  

    “You—sit right here while I grab some clothes. You need fluids, you need food, you need to get an x-ray on those ribs.” I walk to my bedroom and grab a maxi dress from the floor. Before I pull it over my head, I hear desperation in my stepbrother’s voice.  

    “Natalie, you don’t understand. I can’t go to the hospital. The police are after Frank’s club for hiring underage fighters. They’re looking for any way they can to get at him. I can’t—”

    I pull the dress on and walk back to my half-naked, still-bleeding stepbrother. Even like this, he looks like heaven on a platter, and it’s hard to stop myself from stealing glances at him. Petty insults seem to be the only things that pop into my head, so I stand still for a second, with a look on my face that I hope says Nat is figuring out what to do. I gulp when I glance again at him. Desire pricks at my body, starting slow and feeble but undeniably there, like the engine of a car that’s been sitting out in the weather unused for three years.

    Angry. Aroused. Angrily aroused, fuck. That’s exactly what I am. Insult. Hurl an insult, Nat—

    “Haven’t you fucked someone on the police squad? There was that girl from high school—”

    “Cupcake?” He snorts and then breaks out into a laugh. “No, I haven’t fucked Cupcake. I don’t think I’m really her type .” I laugh in spite of myself. It’s been so long since I’ve thought about the nicknames we used to have for our classmates, so long since I’ve thought about the friendship we used to have. Even at the thought of the jokes we used to share, a jolt of pain sears through my body. Even after three years, the hurt of his departure still feels so real.

    “Seriously, what would be so wrong about leaving Frank in the dust? You’re bigger than this stuff.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. We’ve had this fight before, and I never win. He’s silent for a moment, and then he sighs.

    “We can’t go over this again.”

    “You’re right, Josh. We can’t. I’ll drop you at the hospital, and then you can decide what you want to—”

    “Nat, I need your help. I can’t tell you what’s going on right now, but I’m begging you. I know I’m an asshole for disappearing like I did, but I need to play to Frank right now. He’s more of a threat than he seems.” I try to help him up, but he resists, leveraging his weight against my much smaller frame. “Listen to me, Nat.” He catches my gaze, and holds it for a moment. Too many times, I believed he’d get his life together. And too many times, he’s disappointed me beyond measure.  

    “No,” I say,