Paisley hums. "That tracks. So we're fixing that tonight. Step one: sugar. Step two: unsolicited advice. Step three: rage therapy, aka yelling at rom-coms."
Faith raises her hand. "I brought wine for everyone except the baby incubator. You get sparkling juice."
"Cheers," I whisper, and they raise their glasses.
It's not perfect. My heart still aches, and my eyes still sting. But for a while, I laugh. I cry. I eat three cinnamon rolls and let Mandi braid my hair while Grace paints my toenails purple.
I've seen these girls come together to help each other over the last few years, and for them to pull me into their circle like this, no questions asked, means so much to me.
And when Lexi pulls out the old karaoke mic from her wedding shower, and they start belting out '90s love songs, I finally feel like I can breathe again.
Even if just for one night.
Chapter 4
Caden
The world comes back to me in pieces.
First, it's the smell. Bleach. Antiseptic. That weird, sterile hospital scent that clings to the back of your throat mixes with something burnt and metallic. Blood and fire and chemicals I can't name.
Then the sound. Beeping. Steady and sharp. A rhythmic monitor that seems to pulse in time with the pounding behind my eyes. There's a low hum too—machines, maybe a fan. The shuffle of shoes on linoleum. A voice, soft and distant. Muffled like cotton has been stuffed in my ears.
Then pain. Sudden, blinding, ripping so fast I can’t think. Every nerve ending has been scraped raw and flayed open. My chest burns, and my side feels like it's been carved open. My mouth isbone-dry, the taste of gauze and ash coating my tongue. When I try to swallow, even that hurts. My mouth is dry, throat raw like I've been screaming. There's pressure against my ribs, a deep, burning throb in my chest. When I try to move, my body doesn't cooperate. There's weight everywhere, on my chest, my arms, my legs.
I remember the heat first. Then the silence. The kind that comes right before everything goes to hell. Then screaming. Someone else's at first. Then mine.
Flashes hit me. The sudden blast. Dirt flying. A blur of shouting. Fire. My body twisting in midair. The impact. The crunch.
I blink slowly, forcing my eyes to focus. The ceiling above me is pale and too bright. White tiles. A humming fluorescent light. My body feels heavy, like someone has draped concrete over me. I move my fingers. They respond, sluggish but present.
Shifting, I attempt to sit up when fire explodes through my side. A groan rips out of me as everything burns. My right arm won't move. I glance down and see it strapped into a brace, thick, white, and stiff. My eyes follow the sheet, dread building as I reach my leg.
My stomach lurches.
My left leg is gone. Just... gone. The blanket dips past where my knee should be. There's nothing there. Nothing.
My breath hitches, and my chest tightens. The beeping next to me speeds up.
"Caden?"
The voice is soft. Familiar. Distant.
Mom.
I turn my head toward the sound. Her face swims into view. She's older than I remember, with lines around her eyes, and her mouth pulled tight, but her eyes are the same, gentle.
When I try to sit up, I immediately regret it. Fire rips through my side, making me groan in agony.
My left leg is gone.Gone.
I can't breathe. The machine next to me beeps faster.
Jake's voice cuts through the panic. "Caden, you're okay. You're safe. You're in Germany. It's over. You're here. We've got you."
I shake my head. My vision wavers and my throat tightens until I think I'll choke. Brentley's there too, at the foot of the bed, his face grim and pale. Even North's standing near the door, his uniform crisp and his jaw tight.
When I try to speak, nothing comes out but a hoarse croak.
