Chapter 35 Sloane #2
“Hey,” I whispered, soft and desperate. “It’s me. I’m right here. You’re not alone, Oliver. You’re safe. We’re on the way. Just stay with me, okay? Breathe.”
His hand twitched under mine.
The paramedic looked at me. “We’re three minutes out.”
I nodded again, unable to speak. I pressed my forehead to his shoulder for one second—just one—and wished, bartered, prayed, and hoped he’d be okay. God, he’d just entered my life, and it felt like he was meant to be there.
The ambulance doors opened, and a wave of antiseptic-charged air hit me.
I felt every vibration of the gurney rolling onto the hospital floor.
It shifted colors under the bright lights—white walls, green scrubs, red EXIT signs guiding the chaos.
Crowd noise, crowd action, everything outside was gone. Only urgency.
I didn’t want to let go of Oliver’s hand.
I followed the team through the emergency bay, where eventually nurses and doctors separated us to fully assess him.
They moved with purpose—checking his airway, inserting another IV.
I stood behind them, chest constricted. Their voices kept it clinical, but my blood ran with fear.
Everything felt too loud, too bright, too urgent. I wasn’t built for this.
I stood outside the trauma bay doors, arms wrapped around my torso, Oliver’s name still echoing in my head. A nurse guided me back toward the consult alcove, past double doors I wasn’t authorized to follow through. She offered me water. I took it, but my hands shook too badly to lift the cup.
They’d stripped his jersey. Removed his pads. He was in the trauma suite now, monitored by cardiology and emergency medicine. The nurse gave the update he was stable and continuing to be monitored. Waiting on the cardiology consult.
I couldn’t see him yet.
I’d seen players hit, concussed. I’d walked into ERs before—but never like this. Never with a heartbeat I’d memorized fading under my hands.
The charge nurse checked my ID twice, logged it in the system, and gave me a sterile badge. “You’re listed as his emergency contact and have been designated to receive information about his care.”
Something cracked inside me.
He listed me.
Not the team rep. Not Mac. Not Booth. Me.
Air punched out of my lungs like I’d been hit. I pressed the heel of my hand against my sternum, like I could keep everything from spilling out. My throat burned. My vision blurred. The badge crinkled in my grip as I curled my fingers around it until the edge cut into my palm.
I sat down on the hard bench against the wall, elbows on my knees, the sterile white light overhead blinding. I couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t get my breath to even out.
I’d failed him.
The thought landed like a stone in my chest. I let him play. I told him he was fine. If he couldn’t play again—or worse—I didn’t know how I was supposed to live with that.
The elevator dinged behind me. I didn’t look up. I didn’t trust what would come out of me if I did.
“Sloane.” Ivy’s voice was calm, but I could hear the sprint in her breath. She crouched in front of me, hands on my knees. “He’s stable. William called me. They’re running a full cardiac panel and placing him under observation for at least twenty-four hours.”
I nodded once. My throat burned.
“He’s alive,” she said. “You kept him alive.”
“I let him play.”
“We let him play. We trusted him.” Ivy didn’t blink, her eyes boring into me. “This isn’t on you alone. It’s on all of us. But he’s doing okay. He’s stabilizing.”
Before I could answer, a security officer stepped into the hallway. He scanned the list in his hand, then looked at me. “Sloane Mercer?”
I stood quickly. “Yes?”
“Someone is here asking for Oliver James. Says she’s his sister. Rachel James.”
I exhaled, rubbing my sweaty palms on my thighs. “Yeah, let her in.”
He nodded and gestured toward the end of the hall.
Rachel came into view, still wearing a Rampage hoodie. Her eyes were wide, red-rimmed, scanning the hall. When she saw me, her pace doubled. She stopped short of throwing herself into me.
“How bad?” she asked. Her voice broke on the second word.
“Stable,” I said, the word not feeling real on my tongue. “They’re still evaluating.”
She sank into the chair beside me. “Is he awake?”
“No. But he’s breathing on his own. Heart rate is down from what it was.”
Rachel nodded, eyes fixed on the door like she could see through it. “He told me he was fine. I don’t understand this. He was excelling. What… fuck. I need to call my parents.”
“I know.” My voice cracked. “He told me too.”
Ivy stood off to the side, tablet in hand, already reading telemetry William had forwarded over.
She gave us space. But I could feel her eyes on me.
On us. I knew what came next. The fallout.
The scrutiny. The questions. But I didn’t care.
She already knew about us, but it was clear everyone else knew now.
I’d have to face that, and I would. Once I knew Oliver would be okay and there was no long-term damage.
“Glad you could make it to the game, Rachel.” Ivy leaned over and gave her a half hug. “He’s missed the shit out of you.”
“I know. I can’t… this was why I pulled away! So he wouldn’t get hurt! He was gonna kill himself and now—”
“Stop.” Ivy raised her voice, and it was clear she was not one to be argued with. “He needs you being supportive right now. None of the I told yous.”
“What? Ivy, of course I won’t say that. God, I feel sick.” Rachel clamped her hands over her stomach, her gaze moving to me. “You’re with the team too?”
“Yeah.” My face heated. This was so not how I planned to meet her. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
Just then, an ER nurse appeared in the doorway, tablet pressed against her chest. “He’s awake. You can come on back, Sloane.”
I gasped. “He’s okay?”
“He’s conscious. Groggy. The attending said you can come see him.”
I was already on my feet. Rachel followed too, but I held up a hand. “I’ll come get you when he’s ready. I promise.”
Her eyes filled again, but she nodded. “Okay, sure. Tell him I’m here.”
I followed the nurse through the corridor, past curtained bays and low murmurs. Every step made my throat tighter. My palms were cold, but my spine buzzed with heat.
I turned the corner and saw him.
He was half-upright in the hospital bed, eyes barely open, one IV in his arm and telemetry leads across his chest. Oxygen cannula in place. The monitor above him showed 108 BPM. Slower than before. Still high. Still irregular.
But he was awake, and he was alive. I stopped in the doorway. I didn’t trust my legs to carry me farther. Oliver’s eyes moved first. Slow. Disoriented. Then they found me.
And that was it.
The sob hit me from the chest up—silent and unstoppable. I covered my mouth, forcing myself to stay composed, but it was too late. He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s okay.
He blinked once. “Hey, Doc,” he rasped. His voice was raw. Barely there.
I walked to his bedside and sat in the chair so fast my knees popped. “You scared the shit out of me.”
His lips twitched. “Sorry.”
I reached for his hand. His fingers were cold, but they curled around mine with enough pressure that I felt it in my ribs. I brought our hands to my forehead and stayed there for a second. Just breathing.
“Come here, I need you closer.” He tugged my hand, and I leaned forward, kissing his temple and hugging him without putting any weight on him. “I’m still here, honey. Sorry I scared you.”
“You passed out,” I whispered, pulling back into the seat. “On the field.”
He winced. “I remember the hit. Then… nothing.”
“SVT event. You were in tachycardia for over four minutes. You lost consciousness at 178 BPM.
He turned his head toward me slowly. “Did I code?”
“No.” My voice cracked. “You stayed with us.”
His jaw clenched, eyes drifting to the monitor above him. “But I scared you.”
“You terrified me.” I leaned in closer, brushing my thumb across the inside of his wrist. “I’m still shaking.”
He reached up—slower than usual—and cupped the side of my face. His hand was cool, rough against my skin. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” I said. “Just… don’t do it again.”
His chest rose slowly. “Are they going to clear me?”
“No.” I didn’t sugarcoat it. “William and the cardiologist are reviewing everything, but even if your levels stabilize, you’re looking at mandated rest and full electrophysiology evaluation. Likely ablation.”
His face fell. He didn’t argue. “How long?”
“Months. Maybe longer.”
He turned his head away. His jaw clenched again, tighter this time. His hand slipped from mine.
“I let everyone down,” he muttered.
“Stop,” I said sharply. “You didn’t. You’re alive. That’s what matters. That’s all we care about right now, okay? You don’t get to feel any guilt. If anything, this is on me.”
“On you?” He frowned.
“I shouldn’t have let you play. I keep thinking if I would’ve stopped you or begged or—”
“Sloane, I was cleared by everyone, not only you.” He kissed my hand now, a soft sigh brushing against my palm. “How did you get here so fast, honey?”
“I came with you. In the ambulance.” My voice cracked again. “Your sister is here too, and Ivy. We were all waiting, but I had to see you. I had to make sure… you…fuck, Oliver.” I covered my face with my hands, my own heart rate jumping way too fast. “I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life.”
“I’m so sorry.” His voice was deeper, gravelly. He kept touching me, but all my emotions were bubbling up, and he didn’t need to see that. “Sloane, hey—”
“I’ll get Rachel. She wants to see you.”
“Wait, no, don’t—”
I darted out of the room, shutting the door and running to the waiting room. Ivy and Rachel went back immediately, and I sat in the chair and let myself cry.