Novels by Presley Didi

An hour drips by in the kind of slow crawl that makes you feel like time’s decided to take a nap, too. The officers wait in the lounge, quiet but watchful. Dad paces near the nurses’ station, pretending to read a clipboard he’s not actually looking at. I’m leaning against the wall, staring at the beige tile like it might give me answers.Oliver’s been still all this time, his breathing steady, his face soft in the dim light. Then, without warning—A sharp yelp slices the silence.I whip around. Isabella’s standing at Oliver’s bedside, hands over her mouth, eyes wide. “He’s awake!” she blurts, voice trembling but loud enough to carry down the hall.The sound draws all of us at once. Dad’s already moving toward the door. I’m right behind him, heart hammering, but the officers get there first.Raines steps forward, voice firm. “We need to speak with him. Alone.”Dad hesitates. “He just woke up—”“It won’t take long,” Keller says, already easing past him. “We can’t risk memory fading or d

The next day breaks in thin strips of gray light through the hospital blinds, dust catching in the beams like suspended time. The room is quieter than yesterday—Oliver’s breathing is more even now, his color better. His hand rests gently on top of the blanket, fingers twitching every so often, as if dreams are tugging at him.I’m sitting by the window, nursing a cold coffee. Isabella’s curled in the chair across from the bed, a book in her lap she hasn’t turned a page of in over an hour. Dad stands just outside the room, phone pressed to his ear, pacing slowly.It’s calm. For now.Then there’s a knock at the door.Three soft raps.Dad turns immediately. I rise to my feet. Isabella straightens. We all exchange a look before Dad walks over and cracks the door open.Two men in plainclothes stand on the other side.I recognize them instantly.Officer Raines—calm, mid-forties, trimmed beard, sharp eyes—and his younger partner, Officer Keller, the quiet one who always seems to be seeing mor

Oliver’s eyelids are heavy again, his breath slower now. He’s fighting to stay awake, but it’s clear the conversation has taken all he had to give. His chest rises and falls with quiet effort, and when his fingers twitch slightly against the sheets, I know he’s slipping back into much-needed rest.Dad clears his throat softly. “That’s enough for now,” he says, voice gentle but firm. “He needs to sleep.”Everyone seems to understand. We nod silently, the gravity of what Oliver just said weighing down every gesture. One by one, we start to file out of the room.Lea lingers a moment longer, her gaze soft on Oliver before she gives a small wave and turns toward the door. Jace follows her, his expression unreadable.Only Isabella and I remain by the bedside.She leans down slowly and presses a firm, lingering kiss to Oliver’s cheek, her fingers grazing his temple. “You’re safe now, sweetheart,” she whispers, her voice breaking just slightly. “Get better. Come back all the way. We’re right

My heart slams against my ribs.“I know who hit me,” Oliver whispers again, eyes glassy but steady now, fixed on me.“Oliver—” I start, but the words tangle in my throat. I shoot to my feet, stumbling back toward the hallway. “Isabella!”She stirs immediately, blinking awake as if she'd only been pretending to sleep. “What? What is it?”“He’s awake,” I gasp. “He’s awake—and he knows.”In an instant, Isabella is on her feet. “He what?”“Oliver. He said he knows who hit him.”She rushes past me, nearly knocking over the chair. “Oliver?”I don't wait for more. I’m already out the door, sprinting down the hall. “Dad!” I shout, rounding the corner. “Dad, he’s awake!”ddad turns from the vending machine, coffee halfway to his lips. “What?” The cup hits the floor, spilling everywhere. “He’s—are you sure?”“He said it. I heard him. He knows who hit him!”A passing nurse glances over, startled by the noise.Isabella barrels out of the room, waving her arms. “You—nurse! We need a doctor. Now. M

His voice is barely a whisper—ragged, dry, and thin from too many days spent unconscious.But I hear it.I know who hit me.My heart stalls, then kicks like a racehorse against my ribs.“Oliver.” I’m already standing, already fumbling for my phone, my voice rising in volume and panic. “He’s awake! He’s awake—he spoke!”I don't even have to yell again. The door flings open. The nurse rushes in first, followed by the doctor, then Isabella and Dad right behind. The nurse goes to the monitors, checking vitals, while the doctor moves to Oliver’s bedside with calm, practiced urgency.Oliver flinches slightly at the sudden movement and light, but his eyes—his eyes—are open and following everything. They're bloodshot and dull with exhaustion, but they are undeniably his."Easy, sweetheart," the doctor murmurs, shining a penlight into his eyes. "Don't try to talk too much. You're safe now."She checks his reflexes. His blood pressure. Pupils. Breathing. She even asks him to squeeze her fingers

But fate doesn’t give me a break. Not even for a second.Because the moment I round the corner of the main building, I see them.Jace and Lea.Waiting.Like they knew I’d pass by this exact spot at this exact moment.Jace moves first, stepping into my path with the urgency of someone who hasn’t slept either.“He told me,” he says, his eyes sharp and serious. “Oliver. He told me everything. Or… what he wanted me to know.”I blink, trying to act calm, but my pulse picks up speed.“How are you holding up?” Jace adds, voice softer now. “You look like a ghost, man.”I swallow, searching for the right answer—but all I have is silence.Yesterday’s conversation with Oliver still echoes inside me. His pain. His honesty. The way his voice broke when he talked about his father. I felt it all. I believed him.But I didn’t ask the one question that matters most.His mot