"Sam—hey," I say quickly, frowning as I tilt her chin up gently, "Shit, you're bleeding."
She blinks, confused for a second. Then she touches her fingers to her nose, and when she pulls them back, they're smeared with blood.
"Oh," she murmurs, almost dazed. "Nosebleed."
Caroline's already digging through her bag, panic flashing in her eyes. "Hold on—I think I have tissues—" She pulls out a handful and presses them into my hand.
I cup them under Sam's nose, telling her softly, "Tilt your head forward a bit, okay? Don't lean back."
She nods, trying to follow, but her breathing's gone shallow, her eyes unfocused.
"Hey," I whisper, feeling my pulse race. "You okay?"
She tries to answer, but her voice falters. Her knees buckle slightly, and before I can react, her body sags forward into me.
"Sam!" I catch her just as Caroline gasps beside me.
The tissues slip from my hand and scatter to the ground, streaked with red.
"Zach—she's not responding," Caroline says, her voice trembling.
My heart stops cold.
"Get the car," I say, my voice sharp and shaking all at once as I tighten my hold on Sam. "Now."
And for a second, all I can hear is the muffled music still blasting from the house—until it feels like the whole world has gone quiet.
CHAPTER forty-five
CAROLINE
Ifuss with Sam's blanket for what has to be the fifth time, tucking the corner just to have something to do with my hands. Her fever's still there, but low enough that the nurse in me—well, theGoogle-certified one—isn't panicking.
After last night, though, I'm not taking chances.
The second her nose started bleeding, Zach completely lost it.
He practically carried her to the ER while Sam kept insisting she was fine and just overworked. I'd never seen him that freaked out before—pacing nonstop, arguing with the nurse about wait times, demandingeverytest the hospital offered like the overprotective brother that he is.
Luckily, the results were all normal.
The doctor said she was just exhausted—burnt out from lack of sleep, stress, and probably way too much caffeine. It's pretty common during exam week, especially for college studentsrunning on fumes. There was nothing serious to worry about, though her temperature was still slightly high.
The doctor suggested keeping her overnight for observation, but Sam refused. She said she'd rather rest in her own bed than stay in a hospital she "wasn't dying in."
So, we brought her back to the dorm after she got discharged, and Zach ended up staying the whole night, refusing to leave until he was sure Sam was comfortable and had everything she needed.
By morning, he was still there—hovering, checking her temperature every hour like he'd suddenly become her full-time nurse. He spent the entire day pacing between her bed and the mini-fridge, acting like she might collapse the second he looked away.
When practice time rolled around, he flat-out said he wasn't going. Said he'd skip, stay with her instead, just in case.
Sam practically forced him out the door.
Fever or not, she still managed to lecture him about responsibility.
She told him that missing practice wasn't an option—not when the Florida Panthers, the team that drafted him earlier this year, were keeping close tabs on his season. Every game, every stat mattered now. If they saw his focus slipping, they could easily reconsider his contract before next year's official signing.
And Sam wouldn't let her brother throw that away, not for her.
