The nurse comes back twenty minutes later. “I’m starting on your paperwork now. But with the medications you’re on, you cannot drive. Do you have someone who can care for you?”
I nod immediately, lying. “Yeah. It’s no problem.”
She eyes me like she doesn’t quite believe me but doesn’t push. “Alright. Someone will bring your discharge papers soon.”
By the time I’m actually discharged, Jax, Zephyr, and Callum are walking through the hallway toward my room. Still in practice clothes. Hair damp from showers. Moving fast like they’re worried.
“Hey,” I say when they’re near.
They stop and glance around, looking for a nurse or a doctor.
“Hey, girl,” Callum says smoothly, but his eyes are scanning me head to toe like he’s checking for new injuries.
“They released you?” Jax asks.
“Where’s your nurse?” Zephyr adds.
“I can walk,” I say. “I’m released.”
I don’t mention that I talked to the cops. Don’t mention that I’ve been sitting here for hours waiting for them to show up. Don’t mention any of it.
Callum walks around me playfully, examining me from all angles. “Alright. Let’s get Tiger home.”
Home.
The word hangs in the air.
I don’t have a home anymore.
But I follow them out of the hospital anyway, because they’re all that I have now.
Chapter Thirty-Two: Jax
Tigerlily walks alongside Callum toward the parking lot while Zephyr and I hang back for a second.
Callum’s asking her about her arm, how it feels, and if the pain is manageable.
But I can’t stop staring at her. Something’s off. I can feel it in my gut, watching her move through the world like everything’s normal.
She was shot by her dad three days ago and she’s walking it off like nothing happened. Like she didn’t almost die. Like the bullet didn’t tear through muscle and maybe bone and leave a hole that’s still healing.
The lesson I’m learning here is that life moves on whether you’re ready or not.
But I have a stabbing feeling that it’s not that simple. That she’s compartmentalizing. That the second the shock wears off and reality sets in, she’s going to collapse under the weight of it.
Zephyr glances at me. It’s like looking in a mirror. His jaw is tight. His eyes are tracking her every movement.
He’s thinking what I’m thinking. We can both sense something’s off, and we’re going to get to the bottom of it.
Callum opens the back door for her when we reach my car. We all piled in after practice, still in our gear, still carrying the smell of ice and sweat.
I move our duffel bags to the trunk while Callum helps her with her seatbelt. She winces when she lifts her arm but doesn’t say anything. She lets him buckle her in like she’s fragile.
I watch the way she looks at him. Like maybe the world isn’t all bad. Like maybe there’s still something good left to hold onto.
I slide into the driver’s seat. Callum leans over the headrest.
“She needs her meds,” he says. “Walgreens on 6th Street. Right, Tiger?”
