Tristan
“Sorry, sir, I can’t share any information about a patient unless they give me permission to.”
The nurse’s eyes were kind, but I knew I was pushing my luck. This wasn’t Yorkfield, and I couldn’t play the hockey star card to charm my way into anything.
My hands curled into fists at my sides. I absolutely could not commit an act of violence in a hospital because a nurse was correctly safeguarding Eva’s privacy.
Christ, what the fuck was wrong with me?
I scrubbed my hands over my cornrows then looked around the sterile waiting room for a seat. My eyes snagged on a haggard-looking man with the same curly red hair and clear green eyes as my Eva.
“Mr. Jackson?” I asked.
He looked at me then gave a genuine smile, although he looked tired. “Eva’s young man,” he said and offered me his hand. “Conrad Jackson.”
“Tristan Baptiste,” I said, accepting the firm handshake. I didn’t disabuse him of the fact that I was Eva’s, because I was, despite everything. Whether she’d be willing to be mine again was a better question. “How’s she doing?”
He slumped back into his chair and dragged his hands down his face. “In surgery. Her valve failed.”
Her valve?
The scar. Her medication. Shit shit shit shit shit.
“She was in an accident on the way home. It was a huge pile-up. She’s lucky it was just her valve,” he continued.
The waiting room tilted. She’d been driving. In the snow. After she quit. After we—
Horror took root in my chest. After we blamed her for everything that had happened. After we tried to punish her, hurt her, for doing what she had to do to save her father. After we called her horrible names and accused her of horrible things. After Coach joined in.
She’d been running from us when she crashed.
My stomach lurched. We’d done that. We’d driven her into a snowstorm, terrified and alone, because we were too fucking selfish to see past our own need to possess her, because we’d been too focused on our cocks instead of helping her.
“Eva’s tough,” Mr. Jackson said, perhaps mistaking my horror for worry. “She’ll make it through this.”
She’d driven into a snowstorm to get away from us.
“Yeah,” I whispered, bile burning my throat. “She’s tough.”
Too fucking tough. She shouldn’t have had to be.
Me
She’s in surgery.
Heart valve failed in the accident.
Her dad’s here.
Three dots came and went and came and went. Cole was probably staring at his phone, trying to process the same horror that was clawing at my chest.
Cole
Is she going to be okay?
Me
Her dad thinks so.
Three dots came and went again, and then nothing. My phone lit up with another text.
Rory
How is she?!?!?
Me
Hospital.
How did you know?
Rory
Everyone knows you rushed up in the snow like a fucking hero.
Massi says you’re a piece of shit, though.
What did you guys do to her?!?
Fuck.
Me
I’m here to fix it.
Rory
You better fucking pray she lets you, because if she doesn’t, Sage is going to feed you your own dick.
I looked up to find Mr. Jackson’s eyes on me, familiar and green. “Her friends care about her a lot,” I said, my voice hoarse.
“The girls have been a constant in her life since her freshman year. They’re good kids,” he said, a faint Irish burr in his voice.
“Mr. Jackson?” the nurse called, and he surged to his feet.
“Is she—?”
“Out of surgery and asking for you,” she continued, giving me the side-eye. “She specifically said no other visitors.”
Conrad followed the nurse without a backward glance. I stood there, useless, as the doors swung shut after him. Every instinct screamed at me to follow, to demand they let me help, do something—anything—but all I could do was slump into my chair and pull out my phone with shaking hands.
Me
She’s out of surgery.
Cole
And?!?!?!?!?
Me
No further news.
My phone immediately buzzed with individual texts.
Haruto
She okay?
Me
I just told Cole I didn’t fucking know.
Haruto
Eva might put up with your evasive bullshit, but I won’t. What the fuck happened?
I stared at my phone, unable to answer. How could I explain how we’d gotten here?
Me
She’s out of surgery.
That’s all I know.
Rory
When can we see her?
Me
I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything else.
Every minute of waiting stretched like an hour while I drowned in what we’d done. I kept seeing her face in that locker room, the way she’d looked at us like we were monsters.
What had we been thinking?
Exhaustion hit me hard as I waited, but I didn’t dare fall asleep—not when I was waiting for news of Eva, not when guilt racked me as hard as my determination to make this right, to apologize, to convince her to give me another chance.
I didn’t deserve one.
But she deserved everything, and I was determined to give it to her.
After what felt like hours later but was only twenty minutes. Mr. Jackson pushed back through the double doors.
I sprang to my feet, scanning his face. “How is she?”
His expression had changed. He was colder, more guarded than earlier. “She’ll recover,” he said slowly, “but she doesn’t want to see you.”
The words gutted me. “Is she really okay?” I whispered, embarrassed at how raspy my voice was, unable to hide my worry.
He studied me for a long moment. “Surgery went well. She’s awake and talking. She’ll need to stay here a few days for monitoring then take it easy for a couple weeks.”
I pulled out my phone, fingers trembling as I created a group chat.
Me
Putting everyone in one chat so I don’t have to do this fifteen times.
She’s stable, awake, spoke to her father.
She’ll stay up here a few days for monitoring then return to Yorkfield.
Doesn’t want visitors.
I don’t have any other information, so don’t ask.
Rory
Thank God she’s okay.
Katie
We’ll get everything ready at her house for when she comes back.
Massi
Thanks for the update.
Christ, Eva really hadn’t told anyone what had happened, had she? And neither had the team, if Katie didn’t know.
They hated us, and we deserved it, but they were still taking care of Eva, and that meant more than anything else right now.
Sage
Good, I don’t need to murder anyone today.
Rory
*laughing emoji*
Violetta
*laughing emoji*
Haruto
*100% emoji*
My phone pinged. Haruto texted me in a private chat.
Haruto
I told Cole.
He drained a bottle.
Then passed out.
What the hell is going on?
Me
Fucked if I know.
Haruto
Bullshit.
I stepped outside, the cold slapping me in the face as I called Haruto. “How bad?” I asked when he answered.
Haruto snorted. “Bad. It’s like sophomore year all over again.”
Sophomore year. When Cole had nearly died from an overdose. When Coach had been the only thing standing between Cole and complete self-destruction.
“Tell Coach if you have to.”
“Coach knows about the drugs?”
Cole would kill me for revealing this, but Haruto was a good friend, and he was proving it. “And the drinking. He’s helped Cole before.”
Silence met me on the other line.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
Haruto took a deep breath. “And Eva?”
“I haven’t seen her yet. She won’t let me.”
Haruto snorted. “She’ll forgive you.”
“Maybe. But forgive me or not, I want to help.”
I gave him the list of shit I thought she might need, wincing a little at how high-handed it was, but Eva deserved so much better than what we’d given her.
I had to make one last call.
Alek picked up the phone. “You missed practice today,” he said instantly.
“I’m—”
“With Eva,” he interrupted. “The team let me know. How is she?”
I gave him the same update I’d given everyone else.
“I don’t know when I’m going to be back,” I said.
Alek didn’t answer.
My heart squeezed in my chest. We’d fucked up so badly, all three of us, with her, with each other. And I didn’t know how to fix it.
“Take care of her,” he said gruffly and then hung up.
When I returned to the waiting room, I brought her father a coffee. He looked up at me with surprise. “She’s stubborn,” he said softly. “You can wait as long as you want, but she won’t see you.”
“I know,” I said, sinking into the chair across from him. “She doesn’t have to.”
Conrad frowned, like he’d expected me to argue or beg.
“I don’t need her to see me,” I continued, the truth of it surprising me. “I just need her to be okay.”
I'd already forgiven her for the lies, for quitting, for every secret she’d kept because she didn’t trust that I’d help her. She’d been right.
Maybe forgiving her made me weak. Maybe I was setting myself up for the worst mistake of my life. I just—I was done being angry. Anger was easy. I wanted her more than I wanted to be right. I wanted to be with her, even if she never wanted me back.
For the first time since I’d arrived, my chest loosened. Eva didn’t owe me a second chance. She didn’t owe me anything.
I still wanted to give her everything.
Whether she wanted to see me or not, whether she ever spoke to me again, I was going to make sure she got it.
Cedric
*missed call from Cedric*
*missed call from Cedric*
Pick up your phone.
I’m calling Ma.
Ma
Answer your brother’s calls, kiddo.
This time, when the phone rang, I picked it up and stood, walking into a quiet alcove of the busy hospital cafeteria. “Hey,” I grunted then immediately felt foolish. “I’m sorry about—”
“Don’t be,” he said immediately. “We all have shitty games. Remember when I face-planted during the World Juniors?”
I smiled despite myself. Cedric had gotten up, blood streaming from his nose, and finished his shift. “Ma cried.”
“Ma always cries.” His familiar laugh settled something in my chest. I should have picked up the phone instead of ignoring him.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “I watched both games. Your team left you hanging out to dry.”
My cheeks heated. “You saw that?”
“Baby bro, the whole world saw that. What happened?”
“Ma didn’t tell you?”
He laughed, deep and free, and I missed the relationship we had when we were kids, before he shouldered the responsibilities of the family. “Ma asked me to check on you. Said you had, and I quote, girl troubles. That doesn’t sound like you, little bro.”
“Don’t call me that,” I muttered, without heat.
“Don’t act like that,” he said right back, and we both laughed. “Seriously, what’s going on? You’ve never had trouble with girls. Or boys.” He snorted. “Remember Tommy Martinez, when you were fourteen?”
“Fuck off,” I growled, but the memory of my first crush made me smile. Cedric had caught us making out in the barn and kept it secret for months, even from Ma. “I miss you, asshole.”
“Miss you too, kid.” The gruffness in his voice told me he meant it. “But don’t change the subject. What’s really going on?”
I stared at the ceiling, remembering all the nights we’d shared a room, whispering our dreams into the dark, how I’d promised to make it big enough for both of us so Cedric didn’t have to carry the load all alone. “I fucked up. And the team hates me.”
“Over a girl?” The disbelief in his voice stung.
“I turned into everything we used to hate.” The confession burned my throat. “The entitled rich boy who takes what he wants because he can. I—” I swallowed hard. “I’m in love with her, and I blackmailed her into sex with me and my best friend.”
Cedric was silent for a long moment, and my heart dropped. I couldn’t believe that slipped out. “Cedric—”
“Fucking shut up and listen to me,” he snapped. “You know Pa kidnapped Ma?”
Wait. What?
“You think rich girls like Ma give up everything for broke-ass cowboys like him? He kidnapped her, and then she gave up everything to stay with him.”
My world tilted on its axis. “How do you know this?”
“I found the newspaper clippings when I was cleaning out the attic before college. Police reports. Missing persons flyers.” He sighed. “Ever wonder why we’ve never met a single member of her family?”
Images flashed through my mind—Ma tensing whenever anyone mentioned her past, Pa positioning himself between her and strangers at the grocery store. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Wasn’t my story to tell. But you needed to hear it now.” A pause. “They abused her, Tris. When Pa saw the bruises, he lost it. Stole her away that night.”
When I didn’t say anything, Cedric asked, “You okay there? Did I blow your mind?”
“How’d he convince her to stay?” My voice came out rough.
“He stood between her and the world.”
“Still does,” I murmured, realigning every interaction between my parents for my entire life.
The sound of a train whistle carried through the phone. Cedric must have been catching the subway home. “Look, I gotta go. But think about what kind of man you want to be. The kind who takes what he wants? Or the kind who protects what he loves?”
“Sounds like Dad did both.”
He hummed softly. “What’s your plan, then?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“Figure it out. And Tris?” His voice dropped lower. “When you do, remember—true submission comes from trust, not manipulation.”