Baljeet and Ginger arrived at the hospital a few minutes after the ambulance that carried Buford. They were pointed at a waiting area near the emergency room and told that he was still unconscious, and they'd be updated when that changed, but for right now they needed to stay out of the way.

They huddled together, comforting each other silently. Ginger pondered what the big man meant to her. He'd been an annoyance as he'd tried to sort out his feelings for Baljeet, and then an obstacle between her and Baljeet once he'd realized the depths of his affection for the Indian man they both loved. More recently, he'd been the cause of the emptiness in her bed. But in the two months they'd lived together, he'd become a friend, and she'd realized what Baljeet saw in him. He was fiercely loyal to his friends, and his rough exterior hid a sensitive, intelligent, and studious man, one who keenly felt the responsibilities on his shoulders. He'd built a new life for himself after his mother had sent him away, fought to make others accept his relationship with Baljeet, and then agreed to share him when it became necessary.

And, well, she couldn't exactly fault his taste in men. He clung to Baljeet because Baljeet made him a better person, and he made Baljeet a better person in the process. Baljeet had been indecisive and insecure, which was a significant part of why it had taken so long for her to get together with him; he was much more assertive now, and almost-paradoxically more willing to surrender control because he was sure he could regain it. Sharing Baljeet had drawn her and Buford together, sharing strategies on how to best keep Baljeet happy.

"Baljeet and Ginger?" a nurse interrupted her train of thought. "Buford is conscious and asking for you." Baljeet let out a sigh of relief; she squeezed his shoulder, then they followed the nurse to a room.

Buford lay under a sheet, an IV running into his arm and oxygen tubes in his nostrils. "Hey," he said, "You're going to miss the game." The doctor, standing over him, laughed and shook her head.

Ginger laughed. "That's okay. You're more important to us."

Baljeet's eyebrows went up. "Us?"

"Yes. Us. You're not the only one who cares about the big lug now." She smiled at Buford. "Odd as it is, we're all a family now."

The doctor smiled. "So, the summary is that he got a nasty concussion. We'd like to keep him overnight for observation, and he'll need to rest for a while before doing anything strenuous, but as long as you take care to avoid a recurrence in the near future, there should be no permanent damage. Physical and cognitive rest for at least a week and preferably a month or two." She scribbled a few final things on her clipboard, then put it in the rack by the door as she led the nurse out, leaving the three of them alone.

Baljeet was evidently still thinking about the 'family' comment. "So he is like your big brother?"

With a sly smile, Ginger said, "I think of him more like a husband I don't sleep with."

"Yet?" Buford asked hopefully.

Baljeet said, "...I suppose it would be hypocritical of me to argue against that."

"Now isn't the time or place to figure out details," she said. "We'll talk once everyone's home and better. Besides, you heard the doc. Nothing for at least a week."

They ended up keeping Buford under observation for an extra day. The coach stopped by to report that, on the advice of the doctors, they'd put in to withdraw him from classes for the semester to give his brain time off to recover, and had applied for a hardship waiver to keep him from losing a year of sports eligibility for playing in one game. The other team members stopped in to visit as well, teaming up to support him.

Buford came home two days after the accident, spending the afternoon resting in his room. Ginger sent Baljeet in to spend the night with him, with strict instructions that they were just to sleep. Buford protested, saying he wouldn't be able to give Baljeet what he needed.

"What he needs right now, Buford, is to know that you're okay. Nothing more. Just sleep."

"I hope she's right that you don't need anything other than sleep," Buford said. "Because I'm not really up to moving much."

Baljeet said, "She is. I will note that it has just been her and I here for the past two nights, so it is not like I have been going without."

Buford chuckled. "Nah, I'm sure you haven't. Was she serious about that 'husband she doesn't sleep with' stuff?"

"I think that she was. Perhaps we can all talk about that tomorrow."

"Are you okay with that idea?"

Baljeet sighed. "I think I understand a bit more why Ginger was so upset back in high school. I had not yet realized how difficult the idea of sharing someone you love could be. But...yes, I am okay with it. I was just...surprised."

There was a knock on the door.

"Yeah?" Buford called.

Ginger came in, dressed in her pajamas. "Do you mind some more company?" She smiled faintly. "Turns out Baljeet isn't the only one worried about you."

"It would be a little crowded in here," Baljeet said. "Would you prefer if we moved in to your room, where the bed is larger? Would that be okay with you, Buford?"

"Fine with me," Ginger said.

"Me too," Buford said.