“Take these twice daily with food. No exceptions.” Dr. Matthews hands me the bottle like it’s a test I’ve already failed. “No strenuous activity for two weeks. That means no skiing, no heavy lifting, and definitely no whatever reckless thing you were planning in your head just now.”
“I wasn’t planning anything,” I lie.
“Yes, you were.” He looks at Dad, who’s standing by the door with his arms crossed. “Make sure he takes the medication. He’s got a habit of thinking he’s invincible.”
“I’ll handle it,” Dad says, and there’s no humor in his voice.
Dr. Matthews leaves, and Dad helps me into a wheelchair even though I insist I can walk fine. Hospital policy or whatever. We don’t speak until we’re in the SUV heading back to the private lodge.
“How are you feeling?” Dad asks, pulling onto the mountain road.
“Like I got hit by a truck.” I lean my head against the window, watching trees pass. “But alive, so that’s something.”
“You should have told us.” His voice is calm, but I hear the anger underneath. “About the condition. About the medication. About any of it.”
“I know.”
“You could have died, Kai. You almost did die.”
“I know,” I repeat, quieter this time.
He doesn’t push it further. We drive the rest of the way in silence that feels heavier than any lecture he could give me.
When we get to the lodge, Samantha’s waiting on the porch. She’s wearing one of my hoodies, three sizes too big, sleeves covering her hands. The moment the SUV stops, she’s at my door.
“You’re okay,” she breathes, and I see genuine relief in her eyes.
“I’m okay.” I let her help me out even though I don’t need it. “Doctor says I’m cleared for light activity. Whatever that means.”
“It means you’re not doing anything stupid for at least two weeks.” She slides under my arm, supporting my weight. “Which is going to kill you more than the heart condition.”
“Probably.”
Dad heads inside with my discharge papers while Samantha walks me slowly up the porch steps. Donovan’s in the main room, closing his laptop when he sees us.
“Welcome back,” he says. “You look like hell.”
“Feel like it too.” I drop onto the couch, and Samantha sits beside me, close enough that our thighs touch. “Where’s the lecture about being an idiot?”
“You already got that from Dad.” Donovan pours three glasses of whiskey and brings them over. “Now we’re just glad you’re alive.”
I take the glass but don’t drink. “Doctor said no alcohol with the medication.”
“Since when do you follow doctor’s orders?” Donovan raises an eyebrow.
“Since I collapsed and almost died.” I set the glass on the table. “Turns out that’s a decent motivator for lifestyle changes.”
Samantha’s hand finds mine, fingers lacing through. “I’m glad you’re taking it seriously.”
“Me too.” And I mean it. Lying on the floor, feeling my chest seize up while Dad called for help, was the most terrified I’ve been in my life. Not because I thought I might die, but because I realized how much I’d lose if I did.
This family. These people. The baby on the way. Samantha sitting beside me right now, holding my hand like I might disappear if she lets go. I don’t want to leave any of that behind because I was too stubborn to take a pill twice a day.
“Logan still hasn’t called,” Donovan says after a moment. “Dad tried reaching out yesterday. No response.”
“He’ll come around eventually.” But I don’t believe it, and neither does Donovan. Logan made his choice when he left with Chelsea, and it wasn’t us.
“Or he won’t,” Donovan says. “Either way, we move forward.”
