Chapter 19
June
The hospital room smelled wrong—antiseptic and artificial in a way that made my skin crawl.
I paced back and forth between the vinyl-padded visitor chair and the window, counting my steps to keep from losing it completely.
Seventeen steps from chair to window. Seventeen steps back.
Milo’s dislocated shoulder was reset and immobilized in a sling, his warm brown eyes glazed from whatever painkillers they’d given him, while Xavier sat hunched in the corner chair looking like he might vomit at any moment.
The fluorescent lights hummed at a frequency that made my teeth itch, and I couldn’t stop moving.
And in the middle of all of this, my mother was sending frantic texts, worried about why I hadn’t called her back.
Again. Why didn’t she understand that she was just adding to my stress?
I turned to Milo and Xavier, anger rising as I looked at Milo’s broken, bandaged body, and the words spilled out.
“Street racing,” I said, my voice tight.
“Illegal street racing. On public roads. With other vehicles. With innocent people who could have been driving by.” I tugged at my necklace, seeking the tactile comfort of my familiar fidget.
“Do you know the statistical likelihood of fatal crashes during unsanctioned road races? Because I do. I looked it up while they were setting Milo’s shoulder. ”
I spun on my heel at the window, catching sight of my reflection—wide eyes behind round glasses, hair a disaster, the fear still evident on my face despite the fact that Milo was going to be okay. The doctor had assured us that he would be okay. His gear had saved him from a much worse injury.
“June, it’s fine. I’m fine,” Milo tried to interject, but I was too worked up to stop.
“It is not fine,” I countered, resuming my pacing. “There are a thousand ways to ride fast without endangering yourselves and others.” My hands were shaking, and I shoved them into the pockets of my cardigan. “Laws exist for reasons. Good reasons. Safety reasons.”
I paused, struggling to articulate the chaos of emotions swirling inside me. This was always the hardest part—translating the intense feelings into words that made sense to other people.
“I understand breaking laws when they’re stupid or oppressive or don’t make logical sense,” I continued, my voice rising slightly.
“But traffic laws? They exist to keep people alive. They exist because physics doesn’t care how good a rider you are—when metal meets flesh at eighty miles an hour, flesh loses every time. ”
I stole a glance at Xavier, who hadn’t moved or spoken since we’d arrived at the hospital.
He looked shell-shocked—his normally olive complexion ashen, dark circles under his eyes, his fingers clutching the armrests of the chair so tightly his knuckles were white.
He was staring at a spot on the floor like it contained the answers to questions I didn’t even know to ask.
“And for what?” I continued, unable to stop now that I’d started.
“For some adrenaline rush? For bragging rights? Is that worth your life? Worth Milo’s life?
” My voice cracked, betraying how deeply the fear had cut into me.
“Do you have any idea what it felt like getting that call? Hearing you say Milo crashed? Do you know what went through my head?”
I stopped abruptly, my throat tight with unshed tears.
I never cried. I hated crying—the loss of control, the messy emotions, the way it made people uncomfortable.
But I’d nearly cried when I’d seen Milo on the ground, when I’d heard the pain in his voice, when I’d realized how much worse it could have been.
“X,” Milo said suddenly, his voice sharpening despite the meds. “Snap the fuck out of it. June needs you.”
Xavier’s head snapped up, his eyes wide like he’d been slapped. “What?”
“She’s spiraling,” Milo said, gesturing weakly with his good arm. “Do the thing. The breathing thing.”
Xavier stared at him for a long moment, then slowly pushed himself to his feet. He moved toward me with a hesitance I’d never seen in him before—Xavier, who always moved with such confidence, such grace, now approached me like I might shatter if he got too close.
“June,” he said softly, his voice rough around the edges. “Look at me.”
My body vibrated with tension as I met his eyes.
Eye contact wasn’t the best with most people, but with Xavier, it felt safer, steady and focused.
I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but it halted the spiral.
When it became too much, I let my eyes drift down to his soft, kissable lips, now tight with worry. For Milo and for me.
“Five things you can see,” he prompted, his thumbs tracing circles on the backs of my hands, the scratchy sensation of his calloused fingers grounding me.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to focus. “Your face. Milo’s sling. The IV stand. The call button. The window blinds.”
“Four things you can feel.”
“Your hands holding mine. My glasses. Your breath on my lips. Your heartbeat. Are you okay, Xavier? It seems a little fast.”
His lips twitched. “Let’s finish the exercise. Three things you can hear.”
I closed my eyes briefly, listening. “The air conditioning. Your breathing. The nurse talking in the hallway.”
“Two things you can smell.”
“Antiseptic. Your shampoo. I really like your shampoo.”
“One thing you can taste.”
“The coffee from the vending machine.” I made a face. “It was terrible.”
He squeezed my hands. “Better?”
I nodded, my heart rate slowing as my breathing evened out. “Better. Thank you.” I exhaled slowly, some of the tension draining from my shoulders. “I was... I was really scared.”
“I know,” Xavier said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was too.”
“I’m sorry,” Milo said suddenly from the bed.
We both turned to look at him. He was watching us with an expression I couldn’t quite read—something pained that went beyond his physical injuries.
“I fucked up the plan,” he continued, picking at a loose thread on the hospital blanket. “We were supposed to prove ourselves to you, and instead I ended up in a hospital bed while doing something illegal.”
I frowned, confusion momentarily displacing my anxiety. “Prove yourselves to me? What are you talking about?”
Milo exchanged a glance with Xavier, who looked like he wanted to sink through the floor. “Sorry, the drugs made my mouth say words,” he whispered to Xavier in a comically loud voice. “I gave away our secret plan.”
“We were trying to prove ourselves,” Xavier said after a long pause, his eyes downcast. “To you.”
I stared at them both, trying to process this new information. “Prove yourselves? By illegal street racing? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“No. The race was a side quest. The proving ourselves was more like, business-ish. So you could see we were smart and rich.”
I snorted. The idea was so absurd it broke through my remaining anxiety. “That’s ridiculous. Why would you need to prove anything to me? I’m already in love with both of you.”
The words fell out of my mouth with the same unfiltered directness that characterized most of my speech, but as soon as they were spoken, I realized their weight. The room went completely silent. Milo was staring at me like I’d grown a second head, and Xavier looked like he might actually pass out.
“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious. “Did I say something wrong? I thought it was obvious.”
“You love us?” Milo asked, his voice cracking slightly. “Both of us?”
I fidgeted with my necklace, spinning the little gear around and around.
“Is that... not okay? I mean, we’ve been having sex for over a month, and you two have basically moved into my house, and we talk every day, and I miss you when you’re not there, and.
..” I trailed off, my analytical brain finally catching up to the emotions flickering across their faces.
“Oh. Was this one of those things I wasn’t supposed to say out loud? ”
Xavier made a strangled noise, running a hand through his dark hair. “June, this isn’t... we can’t... we’re from different worlds.”
I blinked at him, genuinely confused. “Different worlds? We all live in Altavista. It’s the same planet, same state, same city. The barndominium is like 3 miles from my house.”
Milo burst out laughing, Xavier shook his head. “We’re from different backgrounds.”
“So? That makes things interesting. Except when you do illegal stuff. I’m still mad about the illegal racing,” I clarified, not wanting to give them the impression they were entirely forgiven. “That was objectively stupid.”
Milo yawned. “I think the drugs are kicking in,” he murmured. “I swear there was something I was supposed to say.”
Xavier’s hand shook as he reached out and smoothed Milo’s hair, and I went to stand next to him, looping an arm around his waist.
“He’ll be okay,” I whispered, kissing his cheek and snuggling in close, needing the comfort as much as he did.
“His health insurance sucks, so we probably shouldn’t be letting him sleep.”
“We’ll wake him as soon as they come in with discharge papers.”