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Chapter 4: After the Crash

 Jace's Pov 

When I opened my eyes, everything felt wrong.

The first thing I noticed was the light. It was too bright, and it made it hard to focus. I tried to move, but a sharp pain shot through my body, forcing me to stop immediately. For a few seconds, I stayed still, trying to understand where I was and what had happened.

Then it came back to me.

The road, the headlights, the impact.

I inhaled slowly, but even that felt uncomfortable. My chest tightened, and I realized I was lying flat on something firm. The smell around me was clean and sharp, and that was when I understood.

I was in a hospital.

I turned my head slightly, and the movement made the pain worse, but I forced myself to keep going. The room was quiet except for the steady sound of a machine somewhere close by. I followed the sound until my eyes landed on a monitor beside the bed.

For a moment, I just stared at it.

Then I noticed someone sitting near me.

My mother.

She was leaning forward slightly, her hands resting together, and her eyes were fixed on me like she had been waiting for this exact moment. The second she saw that I was awake, she straightened immediately.

“Jace,” she said, her voice softer than I expected. “You are awake.”

I tried to respond, but my throat felt dry, and the words did not come out the way I wanted them to.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice low and rough.

She hesitated for a second before answering, and that was enough to make something feel off.

“You were in an accident,” she said carefully. “Your car was hit at an intersection.”

I already knew that part, but hearing it confirmed made it feel more real.

“How bad?” I asked.

Her expression shifted slightly, and she looked away for a moment before meeting my eyes again.

“You had some injuries,” she said. “The doctors had to operate, but you are stable now.”

That was not a real answer.

I could tell she was holding something back, and I did not have the patience for it.

“What kind of injuries?” I asked again, this time more directly.

Before she could respond, the door opened, and a doctor walked in. He glanced at me first, then at my mother, and gave a small nod.

“You are awake,” he said as he stepped closer. “That is a good sign.”

I did not care about that.

“What injuries?” I repeated, looking straight at him.

He paused briefly, like he was choosing his words, then picked up the chart at the end of the bed.

“You had multiple injuries from the impact,” he said. “Most of them are manageable, but your leg took the most damage.”

My grip on the sheet tightened slightly.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“It means you will need time to recover,” he said. “You went through surgery, and you will need rehabilitation before you can return to any physical activity.”

I held his gaze for a moment, then asked the only thing that mattered.

“Hockey.”

He did not answer immediately, and that told me everything before he even spoke.

“It is too early to say for certain,” he replied. “But you will not be able to play anytime soon.”

That was not good enough.

“Will I be able to play again?” I asked.

This time, he did not avoid it.

“There is a possibility,” he said. “But it will depend on how well you recover and how your body responds over time.”

A possibility.

That was not an answer.

I looked away from him and focused on the ceiling instead. My head felt heavy, and the pain had not gone away, but it was not what I was thinking about anymore.

Everything I had been working toward was right in front of me.

And now it was not.

The doctor said a few more things after that, but I did not really pay attention. I heard something about rest, recovery, and follow-up appointments, but none of it mattered the way it should have.

After a while, he left the room, and it was just me and my mother again.

She stayed quiet for a few seconds before speaking.

“You are going to be fine,” she said.

I let out a small breath, but it did not feel like relief.

“That is not what I asked,” I replied.

She did not respond immediately, and I could feel the tension in the room even without looking at her.

“You need to focus on getting better first,” she said finally.

I turned my head slightly to look at her.

“That was my chance,” I said.

“I know,” she replied.

“You do not,” I said. “That was everything.”

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she stopped herself.

The silence that followed felt heavier than anything she could have said.

A while later, there was a knock on the door, and it opened again.

This time, it was Mason.

He stepped inside slowly, like he was not sure what to expect, and his eyes moved around the room before landing on me. For a second, he did not say anything, but I could see it on his face.

He already knew.

“You look bad,” he said after a moment.

I almost laughed, but it came out as something closer to a breath.

“That is helpful,” I replied.

He walked closer and stopped near the bed, his expression more serious now.

“They said you were in surgery,” he said. “I came as soon as I heard.”

I nodded slightly, not sure what else to say.

He looked like he wanted to ask something, but he hesitated.

“What did the doctor say?” he asked instead.

I looked at him for a second before answering.

“They said I will not be playing anytime soon.”

Mason’s jaw tightened slightly, but he did not look surprised.

“And after that?” he asked.

“They are not sure,” I said.

He nodded slowly, like he expected that too.

“That does not mean it is over,” he said.

I did not respond to that.

We both knew it was not that simple.

He stayed for a while, talking about things that did not really matter, probably trying to keep things normal, but it did not feel the same. Nothing did.

At some point, he left, and the room went quiet again.

I stared at the ceiling for a long time after that, not really thinking about anything specific, but not able to stop either.

Everything had changed.

And there was nothing I could do about it.