What if he doesn’t want me back? What if he opens his eyes and decides the girl who left him bleeding in silence isn’t worth it?
My tears blur the screen, but I don’t wipe them away. Because no matter how hard I’ve tried to run, no matter how much I’ve told myself I ruin good things, there he is.
The only good thing I’ve ever wanted enough to stop running.
And I just might have lost him.
maverick
. . .
White.
That’s all I see when I force my eyes open. Too bright. Too sterile. A ceiling that doesn’t feel like mine.
My chest aches as if it’s been split open, every breath ragged, dragging fire through my ribs. My head throbs with a dull ringing that drowns out the world.
I blink, and shapes come into focus. Carter—arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle twitch in his cheek. Catalina, pacing at the foot of the bed, tears shining in her eyes, muttering curses in Spanish under her breath. Reed, silent and steady, sitting close, his large hand gripping the bed railing.
“Easy, Mav,” Carter says, his blue eyes meeting mine. “You’re in the hospital. You took a bad hit.”
I try to speak, but it comes out as a rasp, my throat raw. “The game?—”
“Don’t worry about the game,” Reed interrupts, his voice calm but firm.
A doctor enters my peripheral vision, clipboardin hand, his words clipped. “Mr. Hayes, we’re running additional imaging. You may have sustained a concussion, possible rib fractures, and internal trauma. We need to keep you for observation to ensure there’s no swelling in the brain. You’ll undergo?—”
The rest of his words become unclear. The ringing in my ears intensifies, and the room tilts sideways—my chest jerks, muscles tightening all at once.
My body locks up, every muscle seizing and jerking against the bed. My vision blacks out again, spots exploding behind my eyes.
“Doctor!” Catalina’s scream pierces through everything, high-pitched and terrified.
“Hold him, move him to his side!” Carter’s voice, rough and panicked, with the scrape of his boots as he lunges forward.
Reed’s grip tightens on my shoulder. “You’ve always been bigger than life, Mav. The one who couldn’t be touched or knocked down. Seeing you like this, it’s fucking killing me. So you get back up. Not for football. Not for anyone else. For the people who love you. For her. For us. Please.”
Hands are everywhere all at once, voices clashing—monitors blaring, doctors shouting orders, the sharp smell of antiseptic and adrenaline burning my nose.
I try to breathe, try to stay, but my body isn’t mine anymore.
Amidst the chaos, Catalina’s voice urgently calls out, “Please, Mav. Please don’t go. You’re the brother I never had, the one who makes me laugh when I want to burn the world down. Don’t take that away from me. Don’t take you away from us.”
Nothing but white, again.
It eats at the edges of my vision, blooming until I can’t tell if my eyes are open or closed. My body’s gone rogue, muscles locking up, jerking so fiercely my teeth grind together. Pain erupts down my spine, my lungs seize, and no matter how hard I claw for air, I can’t breathe in.
And for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of the hit. I’m afraid ofthis.
The monitor beside me shrieks, high-pitched and frantic, echoing off sterile walls. Beeps that match the hammering in my chest until it’s all I can hear.
“Get Ativan, now!” a voice sharply cuts through the fog, urgent and commanding, a nurse’s tone.
Another voice, closer and panicked. Carter. “Jesus Christ, Mav—” He says, holding me on my side, firm and grounding me to the bed as my body thrashes. His voice cracks on my name. “Stay with us, little brother. Don’t you fucking leave me.”
A deeper voice presses in from the other side, steady, unshaken—Reed. Always Reed. “Maverick, listen to me. You’re safe. You’re here. You’re not going anywhere.”
Safe.
