We check in, sign the visitor log, do all the things we need to do since Luke has never been here before. Then I lead him past the nurse’s station, where Marcy gives me a soft smile and wave. She knows me. Knows Xavier, and when he’s having a good day or a hard one.
“He’s awake. Quiet this morning."
“Thanks,” I murmur.
I reach for Luke’s hand as we walk the sterile corridor. He squeezes mine, but doesn’t say anything, and I’m grateful for the silence, for the way he reads the moment and lets it stretch without filling it with jokes or questions.
We reach Xavier's room. I swallow hard as my free hand hovers on the handle.
“You sure I should come in?” Luke asks.
“No,” I admit. “But you’ve come this far.”
I push the door open, and there he is. He’s sitting in the same spot as the last time I visited him almost a month ago. Guilt pangs through me. The blanket is tucked around his legs, and he has a stuffed animal on the tray next to him. One of the nurses must’ve brought it in. He’s a little thinner thanlast time, and his hair is shorter as if they’ve given him a hair cut recently.
He’s staring outside.
I step in, pulling Luke in behind me.
“Hey,” I say softly, the way I always do. “Xave. It’s me.”
No response. Not yet. Sometimes, he looks. Sometimes, he doesn’t. Then other times he smiles, and it hits me square in the chest. But it’s the times he cries that destroy a part of my soul. Mostly, he just stares.
I release Luke’s hand and cross to the chair across from him and sit. Luke lingers near the door, eyes flicking between us.
“This is Luke,” I say, voice a little unsteady. “He’s, uh…he’s important to me.”
Xavier blinks slowly, meeting my gaze, and there is a little recognition there. A half smile forms on his lips. I’m not sure if he heard me.
Luke moves slowly to the other chair and sits quietly. He’s close enough that his hand brushes my knee, a tiny bit of contact, and that’s enough to remind me that I’m not alone this time.
“Coach?” Xavier’s voice is faint. Rusted from disuse. But it’s there.
My throat tightens instantly. I swallow against the wobble in my lip. “Yeah,” I manage, barely getting the word out. “Yeah, it’s me.”
Xavier’s smile is small, lopsided—fragile. “That game… Southfield,” he says. “You benched me for half the quarter ‘cause I missed curfew. Still threw the winning pass.”
I close my eyes for a beat. That was eleven years ago. He hadn’t brought it up in… I don’t even know how long. “Youwere cocky as hell,” I say, voice thick. “I probably should’ve benched you the whole game.”
“You couldn’t,” he murmurs, and for a second, there’s a flash in his eyes—bright and sharp and unmistakablyhim. “You needed me.”
Luke shifts beside me, his hand still brushing my knee like he doesn’t know what else to do butbe here. And honestly? That’s more than enough.
He glances at Xavier, then offers a soft smile. “I’m not great at this kind of thing,” he says. “But you’ve got good taste in people.”
Xavier’s gaze shifts slowly to him. His expression doesn’t change at first. Just that same distant calm.
Then, without really looking away, he murmurs, “We’re not supposed to talk about it. Not where people can hear.”
My breath catches.
Luke blinks. “Talk about what?”
Xavier leans forward slightly, eyes bright but unfocused, as if he’s replaying something only he can see. “Coach said it’d ruin everything if we weren’t careful. If they found out.”
My throat tightens. I swallow hard, but it doesn’t help. Luke’s eyes flick to mine in surprise, and I shake my head—just once.
“He said I talk too much,” Xavier continues, quieter now, like it’s a secret. “Said people would notice if I didn’t shut up about how good he looks in gray sweat pants.”
