The hallway feels oddly hollow after the footsteps fade. The few teammates still standing glance at one another before one of them—a boy with sandy hair and soft eyes—steps forward.“Hey… we’re sorry about the guys who left,” he says quietly. “They don’t speak for all of us.”Another nods in agreement. “Yeah. We came here for Oliver, not to start anything. Some people just… forget that.”Isabella exhales, her shoulders settling a fraction. “It’s nothing,” she says, her voice gentler now. “Tensions are high. I understand.”Dad clears his throat, his voice steady but warm. “What matters most right now is Oliver’s recovery. Everything else can wait.”Isabella’s eyes soften, and then she glances toward the door behind her. “Speaking of him…” Her lips curve into the smallest smile. “He’s awake.”The mood shifts instantly—lighter, electric. She pushes the door open and waves them inside. “Come on, he’ll want to see you.”The rest of the team files in quietly, the sound of their sneakers sof
Dad’s voice cuts through the hum of the corridor.“What are you still doing on your phone? I’ve been standing here waiting for you. Who are you talking to?”I glance up, forcing my thumb to slow down on the screen.“A friend,” I say, slipping the phone halfway into my pocket. “He… uh, just told me he’s going to surprise me.”Dad gives me a skeptical look, the kind that could peel back a lie if you hold it too long.I add, in my head, I wasn’t going to tell him I was talking to Mom, after all.He straightens his jacket. “Speaking of surprises… here’s one.”I follow his gaze toward the far end of the hallway—and freeze.A wave of crimson floods toward us. Not blood. Jerseys.Oliver’s entire Crimson Lions squad is here, a dozen or more, their team colors practically shouting against the beige hospital walls. They carry everything from small bobblehead mascots to stuffed animals so oversized they have to be hugged with both arms. Someone even has a foam lion head tucked under one elbow.T
The sunlight outside the station feels too bright, like it’s pushing at my eyes instead of warming them. The sidewalk smells faintly of exhaust and hot pavement, though it’s not even noon yet.I raise a hand to flag down the first taxi I see. The driver—a middle-aged man with heavy eyelids and a fading baseball cap—barely glances at me as I slide into the back seat.“City Hospital,” I tell him.He nods once, pulls into traffic.The car jolts forward, and I pull out my phone. My hands still feel faintly cold, the way they always do after an argument I’m not sure was actually an argument. The memory of Zane’s voice still sits in my ears—calm, insistent, too steady for someone guilty. Or maybe that’s exactly how guilt sounds when it’s practiced.I open the group chat with Jace and Lea and start typing.Me:Just saw Zane. I can’t say for sure he’s guilty anymore.It takes less than a minute for Jace to respond.Jace:Careful, man. You’re treading on slippery ground. One wrong step and you
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