Until things settle.
I repeated it like a pregame mantra.Until the grade climbs, until Harper stops dissecting each rebound, until Dad quits calling.
The room answered with heat pipes and silence.
Careful felt like safety.Safety felt like alone.
I rolled onto the good shoulder, stared at the sliver of hallway light beneath the door, and waited for the math to make sense again.
Chapter 28
Impact Warning
Austen
I had initiated the disconnect protocol forty-eight hours ago.It was simple game theory: if the variable is going to become unstable, you remove it from the equation before it ruins the entire dataset.I would abandon him before he could abandon me.It was the only way to keep the control on my side of the ledger.
Sitting at my desk, back rigidly turned to his empty bed, staring at a paragraph I hadn’t processed in twenty minutes, I assured myself I wasn’t waiting for him.I deleted him.I was singular.
BOOM.BOOM.BOOM.
I turned and stared at the door.That familiar knock brought back dread.A key in the door lock.The door flung open.Ryan filled the frame like an off-duty bouncer—hood up, cheeks raw from cold.
“Special delivery,” he announced.
Luke followed, slower.His right hand clamped the doorjamb; his left arm hung stiff at his side, glove still on.He tried for a smile and missed by yards.
I’d been at my desk pretending to read eigenfunction drafts, but the sight yanked me to my feet.The defensive logic evaporated.My heart gave a singular, painful thud against my ribs.
“What happened?”I asked, too sharp.
“Bad angle drill,” Ryan said.“Morales tried to turn him into modern art.Shoulder caught the post weird.”
Luke’s gaze cut sideways—shut up, O’Connell—but he didn’t argue.Sweat darkened his undershirt straight through the pads.His face was a shade of gray I usually associated with old snow.
I stepped back, making space between the beds.Ryan edged Luke inside, gear bag bumping his leg.
“Why is he wearing gear?”I asked.
“I couldn’t carry him and his gear, so he had to wear it or leave it the locker room.And you know how he is,” Ryan told me as he helped Luke onto his bed.
“You need anything?”Ryan asked him.
Luke shook his head.“I’m good.Thanks for the escort.”
Ryan frowned at the wordescortbut didn’t correct it.I could practically see the quip sitting on Ryan’s tongue, but instead of going for the joke he looked to me instead.“You’ve got him?”
“Yeah,” I said.“I can manage him.”
He hesitated, eyes flicking from Luke’s shoulder to my face.Whatever confirmation he needed, he must’ve found it; he slapped Luke’s good arm once and left without another word.The hallway swallowed his footsteps.
Silence dropped—only the radiator wheezing and Luke’s uneven breathing.
I shut and locked the door two inches.“Sit,” I said, nodding at his bed.
He tried to unclip his blocker with one hand and failed.I crossed the gap, unfastened straps, slid it off.His fingers trembled, whether from pain or adrenaline I couldn’t tell.
“I can undress myself,” he muttered.
