33. Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Three
Celeste
It’s early morning, the kind where the sun is just starting to stretch pale gold through the long windows at the end of the corridor. Nurses move quietly past us with clipboards and carts, their shoes squeaking softly against the polished floors.
Rowen is finally being discharged.
The word still feels unreal.
Discharged.
Three days ago, I thought I might lose him.
Now he’s sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, legs swinging happily while Tate helps him pull on his tiny sneakers. But looking at the paper from Brett sitting beside me. “What if he takes him?” I whisper mostly to myself.
Tate looks up from untying Ro’s shoes to put them on him.
“What?”
“My lawyer said if Brett pushes custody… the court might listen.”
The words taste like acid and garbage in my mouth. I can’t imagine a world where Ro isn’t a part of it. Where I have to send him off with Brett and not know what he’s doing, where he is. The thought is crippling in the worst way.
“He can give Ro everything.” My voice breaks.“I wait tables. I barely make ends meet.”
Tate watches me for a long moment.
Then he stands from where he’s crouched at the end of Ro’s bed. Moving towards me in that confident way, but still cautious like he’s approaching a Lioness.
“Hey.”
His voice is quiet and soft.
Steady.
“He’s not taking him, not without us fighting him.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because I’m not letting you fight him alone.
Neither are my parents. I sent them the documents, and they’re going to reach out to some of their colleagues out here, who will be better than the district attorney the courts offered you.
” He kisses the top of my head, and I wipe at my eyes.
He goes back to Ro, helping him get ready.
“Left foot,” Tate says patiently.
Rowen squints down, looking at both his feet like one will magically tell him which is left and which is right.
“This one?”
Tate laughs softly. “Other left.”
I lean against the wall, arms wrapped around myself, just watching them.
Rowen sticks his tongue out in concentration before finally shoving his foot into the shoe.
“Got it.”
“You did,” Tate says, ruffling his curls.
The sight makes something warm bloom in my chest.
Because Tate never once left.
Not after he showed up in that hospital doorway, breathless and terrified, calling Rowen’s name like the world had cracked open.
He stayed through every blood sugar check.
Every doctor update.
Every long, quiet hour in that hospital room.
He slept in the stiff recliner beside Rowen’s bed.
He learned how to silence the hospital monitor alarms.
He memorized the nurses’ names.
And when my panic threatened to swallow me whole, he held my hand so tight I thought our fingers might fuse together.
I don’t know what I did to deserve him.
But I know I’m never letting him go again.His Coach and teammates have been so sweet and understanding. Telling Tate to take his time and come back to the ice when he’s ready. I know Tate is itching to get back on the ice; it’s something us hockey players crave.
A knock sounds lightly on the door.
The doctor steps inside.
“Well,” she says with a smile, “our patient looks much better today.”
Rowen grins proudly.
“My numbers were green all night.”
The doctor nods approvingly. “They were.”
She glances at Tate and me.
“You caught the virus early. That’s what kept things from getting worse.”
I nod, though my throat tightens a little.
The doctor flips the clipboard shut.
“You’re free to go home.”
Rowen pumps his fist.
“Yes!”
The sound of his excitement echoes down the hallway, and I can’t help laughing.
Because the word home has never sounded so good.
The elevator ride down feels surreal.
Rowen stands between Tate and me, clutching the small stuffed bear one of the nurses gave him.
Tate’s hand rests lightly on the back of Rowen’s hoodie, steady and protective.
When the elevator doors slide open to the main lobby, sunlight spills across the floor.
I inhale deeply.
Fresh air.
Freedom.
Normal life.
Rowen practically drags us toward the exit.
“Can we get pancakes?” he asks.
“You just got out of the hospital,” I say.
“So?”
Tate snorts beside me.
“That’s actually a pretty good argument.”
I roll my eyes.
We push through the sliding glass doors
And stop.
Because the sidewalk outside the hospital is full.
Completely full.
Balloons.
Bright blue and silver ones bobbing in the cold air.
Gift bags.
A giant stuffed hockey mascot.
And an entire group of very large, very loud hockey players.
Parker is the first one to spot us.
“There they are!”
Rowen freezes beside me.
Then his eyes go wide.
“Woah.”
Chiral steps forward, holding a gift bag almost as big as Rowen.
“We heard someone kicked a virus’s ass this week.”
Rowen beams.
“I did.”
Nix crouches down to his level.
“We figured you deserved a welcome-home party.”
Rowen looks like he might explode from excitement.
Preston hands him the giant stuffed mascot.
“For your room.”
Rowen hugs it immediately.Across the parking lot, I see a familiar SUV, Brett. I can see him watching the scene in front of him play out.
And…
A look of what I think is sadness is etched into his face.
We lock eyes. For just a moment. Before he nods his head before he starts his car and drives off.
Meanwhile, Parker strolls toward me, holding a bouquet of flowers.
Bright white lilies.
My favorite.
He hands them to Tate.
“Coach said if you screw this up, I’m not covering for you anymore.”
Tate rolls his eyes.
“Shut up.”
Then he turns to me.
And suddenly the world gets quiet again.
The cold breeze lifts a few curls from my face as he holds the flowers out.
“For you.”
My throat tightens.
“Tate…”
“I figured hospital air probably isn’t your favorite scent right now.”
I laugh softly, tears already threatening.
“You figured right.”
I take the flowers.
They smell clean, soft, and alive.
And suddenly, the weight I’ve been carrying for weeks finally cracks.
Because this right here is what love looks like.
Not control.
Not threats.
Not fear.
Just people showing up.
Rowen tugs on Tate’s sleeve.
“Are they all coming to pancakes too?”
The entire team immediately erupts.
“Yes.”
“Absolutely.”
“Pancakes!”
I laugh through the tears now.
Tate glances down at Rowen.
“What do you think, buddy?”
Rowen looks at the entire team.
Then at me.
Then back at Tate.
“I think,” he says thoughtfully, “this is the best hospital trip ever.”
Everyone laughs.
Tate scoops him up easily, settling him on his hip.
“Let’s get you home first,” he says.
Home.
The word lands warm in my chest.
Because this time…
We’re all going there together.
And for the first time in a long time
It actually feels like the beginning of something instead of the end.