Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
CADEN
The world outside the windshield is silver-blue and endless.
Snow frosts the edges of the road, clinging to low fences and naked tree limbs like sugar.
The Michigan winter doesn’t do subtle. It’s all sharp edges and breath you can see, and tonight, it’s showing off under a sky that’s gone full cotton candy—soft pink and pale gold bleeding into each other as the sun dips low behind us.
Instead, I’m busy trying not to fall asleep again. I jerk upright in the passenger seat, blinking hard. “Shit. I did it again.”
Theo doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “Third time, actually.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
He shrugs, smirking. “You looked too peaceful drooling on yourself.”
I wipe my chin automatically, scowling. “I wasn’t drooling.”
“Oh, my bad. I meant snoring.”
“You’re the worst,” I mutter, but my voice has zero heat. Because really, this—this right here—is everything.
Theo’s hands are tight on the wheel, fingers bare because he swore it wasn’t cold enough for gloves.
He’s got a stubborn streak about things like that, and I gave up trying to change his mind years ago.
The heater’s blasting at our feet, the only sound besides the low hum of tires on pavement and whatever lo-fi playlist he’s got running through the speakers.
“Pull over soon,” I say, stretching my arms above my head. “You’re looking tired.”
“I’m fine,” he answers, but it’s followed by a yawn that nearly unhinges his jaw.
I raise a brow. “Uh-huh.”
“I’ll stop if my vision starts swimming.”
“Jesus. Comforting.”
Theo chuckles and glances my way. “We’ve only got, like, forty miles left. I want to get there before the snow starts back up.”
I nod, shifting in my seat to better face him. “Still can’t believe you drove three hundred and sixty miles for the game.”
His eyes soften. “Would’ve driven double.”
God. He says stuff like that, and I swear it never gets old. Not even after all these years.
Tonight’s game had me flying. I dropped ten points, snagged six boards, and even Coach said my defense was tighter than it’s been all season.
I’m finally in the rotation now—really in it—and the difference is showing.
Minutes mean everything when you’re a second-year guy on a two-way deal.
Every possession is a chance to prove you belong.
But the real high? Theo, in the stands. Eyes shining, grinning like I’d already won just by being on the court.
“I’m proud of you,” he says, like he read my mind.
I smile and tilt my head against the seat. “I’m earning minutes. Coach said he wants me dressing for every game this month. And if things stay strong, they might offer me a standard contract by summer.”
Theo whistles low. “That’s huge.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t mean I’m safe. I’ve seen guys get dropped mid-season like nothing.”
“You won’t.”
“I might.” I shrug. “This league doesn’t owe me anything. I’m just trying to stay sharp, stay healthy. Make the most of it.”
“You’ve already made the most of it,” he says. “You went from undrafted to standing your ground on a league court. That’s huge, Cade.”
I nod, letting that settle.
I know I’m lucky. And I’ve done everything right with the money so far—invested half with a guy my dad trusts, socked away enough for a rainy decade. But even now, with a steady salary and some buzz building, I can’t pretend this dream doesn’t come with an expiry date.
If I get ten good years, I’ll be one of the lucky ones.
I glance at Theo again, taking him in. His profile in the dusk. The little crease between his brows when he’s concentrating. The way the corner of his mouth kicks up when he catches me looking.
“You sure you’re okay driving?” I ask.
“I’m running on adrenaline and two Red Bulls. I’m golden.”
“Yeah, and the second we get to the cabin, you’ll crash face-first into a pillow.”
“Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe I’ll get a second wind.” He winks, and the temperature in the car spikes about twenty degrees.
“Not fair,” I mutter, trying not to laugh. “Teasing me when I’m too tired to retaliate.”
Theo grins. “I like you defenseless.”
I lean back, smiling out at the icy landscape zipping by. “We’re really doing this, huh?”
He nods. “Two whole days. No training, no class, no phone calls. Just us and nature.”
“And a fireplace.”
“And a kitchen.”
“And hopefully a bed that doesn’t squeak like a haunted swing set.”
Theo laughs. “I made sure it’s a real mattress, not some fold-out nightmare. I want you well rested.”
“I thought the plan was the opposite.”
“Touché.”
I glance at his hand on the wheel. “Can’t believe you’ll be living with me soon.”
Theo’s smile is quieter now. “Me neither. It still feels far off.”
“You graduate in four months.”
“Three, if I ace everything.”
“You will.”
He hums. “Gotta start job hunting soon.”
“You’re gonna be an amazing teacher.”
He pauses. “You think so?”
“I know so. The way you explain stuff, the patience, the dorky jokes… it’s a package deal.”
“You think my jokes are dorky?”
“I think they’re perfect.”
The road narrows a bit, the pines closing in. Snowbanks climb higher the farther we go. The sky has turned lavender now, the sun almost gone. I reach out and brush his thigh, just lightly. “Thanks for doing this.”
Theo glances over. “Thanks for needing me.”
We don’t say anything for a while after that. We just drive. The scenery becomes more remote, quieter, until it feels like we’re the only two people left in the world. And honestly? I wouldn’t want it any other way.
The last thing I remember is the low sound of Theo humming along to the radio and the gentle bump of the road beneath us. Then sleep pulls at me again—unhurriedly, heavily, like hands dragging me underwater.
When I blink awake, the world is wrong.
The tires screech.
A squeal penetrates my ears, loud and sharp, and the headlights flicker as we veer hard to the right. I lurch sideways in my seat, my chest clenching.
“Theo—” My voice is a rasp.
But Theo’s not answering.
He’s slumped forward. His head jerks up in the next second, eyes wide, frantic, hands snapping to the wheel, but it’s already too late.
We hit the shoulder.
Snow explodes in the beams of the headlights, a wall of white swallowing us whole.
Theo screams my name.
Then it all goes to hell.
The world flips. A crunch of metal, the terrible groan of the car folding in on itself.
My head slams into the side window. A blinding burst of light erupts behind my eyes, and I feel weightless—shredded from the seat, from gravity, from sense.
We spin, and spin, and then something hits us hard enough to snap the breath from my lungs.
We stop moving, but the world doesn’t.
Everything tilts.
Everything aches.
The windshield’s smashed. Glass sparkles like snowflakes in the air. The roof is bowed, pressing down. The dashboard’s pushed in, swallowing my legs. I taste blood, thick and metallic on my tongue.
There’s a ringing in my ears that won’t stop.
Then—
“Caden!” Theo’s voice is hoarse, breaking. “Caden, baby, answer me—please—”
I try to move. Pain slices up my leg like fire.
“Don’t move,” Theo chokes out. He’s crouched next to me, somehow out of his seat.
His face is smeared with red. Blood runs down his cheek and drips from his jaw.
His hoodie—my hoodie—is torn at the shoulder, the fabric stained.
His hands are shaking. “Shit, you’re bleeding. You’re bleeding so much.”
I try to say his name, but it gets stuck in my throat. It feels like trying to speak through gravel.
“The ambulance is coming,” he says quickly, almost too fast. “You’re going to be okay, I swear. You’ve just got to stay awake, all right?”
I nod—or I think I do.
My leg is screaming.
“I need—” I start, then cough. It tears through my chest, a deep, broken sound.
“Hey, hey, I got you.” Theo presses a hand to my cheek. It’s warm. It’s everything. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
His breath fogs in the cold. The wind’s rushing in through what’s left of the passenger side, and snow is whipping across the dashboard. I can’t stop shaking. I don’t know if it’s the cold or the pain or both.
I try to lift my hand to his, but my arm won’t cooperate.
“Theo.” My voice is so faint, I barely hear it.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” His hand is around mine now, gripping tight. “Just keep talking to me, okay? You’ve got this, Cade.”
Everything inside me is throbbing. My ribs, my shoulder, my neck. But the worst is my leg. I can’t feel my foot. Or maybe I can feel it too much. The pain is hot, sharp, alive. My stomach churns.
I blink again, and the world tilts sideways.
Darkness crowds the edges of my vision.
“Caden!” Theo’s voice spikes with panic. “No, no, no. Eyes on me. Please.”
I force them open. I try.
Theo’s face blurs.
“Can’t lose you,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “I swear to God—don’t you fucking dare.”
My head tips back against the seat. There’s blood dripping somewhere—mine or his, I don’t know.
And then I really notice it. The blood on his temple. The jagged gash on his forehead I missed the first time. It’s deep. He’s bleeding. A lot.
My stomach lurches. “You—you’re hurt,” I rasp.
Theo laughs, but it’s wet and raw. “You’re in a mangled car, probably concussed, and you’re worried about me?”
“Always,” I whisper.
His eyes shine, and for a second, I see the tears he’s trying so hard to blink away. He swallows hard. “It’s just a cut. I’m okay. It’s not deep. You’re the one I’m scared for.”
I don’t know how to say I’m scared too. Not of the pain, or the blood, or whatever’s happening inside my leg. I’m scared of this ending. Of not seeing him again. Of not making it out of this car.
Time slips again.
I fade.
Come back.
It’s darker now. Or my eyes are worse.
Theo’s voice is quieter, like it’s coming from the end of a tunnel. “They’re on their way,” he says. “I saw the lights. Almost here.”
He’s still holding my hand. I squeeze back—or maybe I just imagine it.
“Keep talking,” he pleads. “Say something.”
I try. But my mouth won’t work.
His hand tightens. “Please.”
I close my eyes. Not because I want to. Because I can’t keep them open anymore.
Theo sobs—loud and broken. But he doesn’t let go.
Not once.
Not ever.
Red flashing lights bleed through the dark, pulsing like a heartbeat gone haywire. I can’t tell if the sirens are still far or already screaming over us. It’s hard to think, harder to breathe. Every sound comes in waves—too loud, then muffled like I’m underwater.
The cold hits me next. Sharp and merciless, cutting through the broken windows, curling into every inch of me. I try to shift, but pain claws through my chest and leg, white-hot and blinding.
“Theo—” I choke the name out, but it’s barely a breath, my throat sandpaper and blood.
“I’m here.” His voice. Theo’s voice. Shaky and broken and right next to me. “I’m right here, baby. You’re okay—you’re gonna be okay. Help is coming, I swear.”
I want to see him. I need to see him. I force my eyes to open, blinking through tears and something warm trickling into them. He’s leaning over me, face pale and panicked and streaked with blood.
Then a louder voice cuts in. Someone shouting. Doors slamming. Feet stomping the ground.
“We need the cutters. Passenger’s pinned. Driver’s responsive.”
I feel Theo flinch beside me. Someone tugs at him. “Sir, you need to step away. Let us in.”
“No! No, I’m not leaving him. He needs—he needs to know I’m here.”
A stronger voice, sterner. “Sir. We’ve got it. You need to step back now.”
I feel him slipping away from me—his hand ripped from mine—and panic tears through my ribs like broken glass. I try to shout, but it’s just a groan, and that’s when the shrieking starts.
Metal grinding. Ripping.
The Jaws of Life tear into the car like a beast, vibrating through my bones. I clench my jaw to keep from screaming. My leg—it’s wrong. Twisted. Trapped. Pain pulses through me in waves, every one worse than the last. My vision whites out.
A face appears above me. Mask. Helmet. “Hey there, buddy. Stay with me. We’ve got you, okay?”
I try to nod, but it’s useless. My head won’t lift. My chest won’t move right.
Where’s Theo?
I blink hard. The lights blur and smear. Shapes move around me, shouting things I don’t understand. I’m being touched—stabilized, lifted. The car creaks and groans like it might give out beneath me.
The pain spikes so high it steals the breath from my lungs.
And then there, just through the shattered window, I see him. Theo. Being held back. Struggling. Crying.
Blood’s still on his face, but he’s alive. He’s alive. Thank God. He’s screaming my name. I can’t hear it, but I know it. I know the shape of his mouth when he says my name. When he pleads.
I try to reach for him. Try to say something. Anything. But it’s too much. My body’s not mine anymore. It’s fire and ice and shrapnel.
I feel them lift me—the sudden motion, the sky spinning. And the last thing I hear before everything goes black… is Theo.
Still calling me back.
Still holding on.