Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Tristan
The hospital room is too quiet after the doctors leave.
Machines hum.
Hallway noise bleeds faint through the door.
Isa sits propped up, ankle wrapped and elevated, an ice pack melting slowly against the swelling. Her hair is pulled into a loose knot now, a few strands falling around her face. No makeup. No performance.
Just her.
Human.
Real.
I lean back in the chair beside her bed, elbows on my knees, hands clasped.
“They said it’s a tear,” she says finally.
Her voice is steady.
Too steady.
“How long?” I ask.
“Six to eight weeks. Maybe more if rehab’s slow.”
That lands heavier than anything else tonight.
Season.
Momentum.
Everything she worked for—
Paused.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
She lets out a small breath.
“You didn’t tackle me, Vale.”
“I was there.”
She turns her head.
Looks at me.
Really looks.
“And?” she asks softly.
“And I should’ve—” I stop.
What?
Stopped it?
Caught her?
Rewritten physics?
I exhale.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Silence stretches.
Not awkward.
Just… thick.
“You don’t have to stay,” she says again.
Different this time.
Less polite.
More honest.
I don’t answer right away.
Because the truth isn’t simple.
My phone buzzes.
Again.
And again.
I don’t look at it.
I already know what it is.
Clips.
Photos.
Narratives being written without me.
“I can call someone,” Isa says after a second. “My roommate. Or one of the girls.”
I shake my head.
“They’ll come anyway.”
She huffs out a quiet laugh.
“Yeah.”
Another beat.
Then—
“Why are you really still here?”
There it is.
No games.
No flirting.
Just the question sitting between us like it’s been waiting all night.
I lean back.
Run a hand through my hair.
Think.
Actually think.
Because I could give her something easy.
Something clean.
Something that sounds good.
I don’t.
“I don’t leave people when they need me,” I say.
Simple.
True.
Not the whole truth.
But not a lie either.
Her eyes search mine.
She nods slowly.
“Yeah,” she says. “I figured.”
A nurse knocks lightly, steps in, checks vitals, adjusts the IV, asks routine questions.
We both answer automatically.
Like we’ve been here before.
Like this is normal.
It’s not.
When the nurse leaves, Isa shifts slightly, wincing.
“God, this sucks,” she mutters.
“Yeah.”
“I had olympic scouts coming next month.”
I nod.
“I know.”
She looks at the ceiling.
Blinking slower now.
The adrenaline wearing off.
The reality settling in.
“I don’t want to go home,” she says suddenly.
I glance at her.
“You’re not going home.”
She swallows.
“I mean like… not just tonight. I don’t want to disappear. Sit out. Watch everyone else play.”
Something in my chest tightens.
Because I know that feeling.
Too well.
“You won’t,” I say.
She turns her head toward me.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She studies me.
Like she’s measuring something.
“Okay, stay,” she says.
Quiet.
Not demanding.
Not dramatic.
Just… honest.
And this—
This is the moment.
I think about leaving.
About walking out into the night.
About going back to the basketball house.
About pretending I don’t know exactly where my mind would go next.
Stella.
Always Stella.
The way she looked on the court.
The way she walked past me like I didn’t exist.
The way she chose distance.
She told me to leave her alone.
So I did.
I look back at Isa.
At the girl in front of me.
Injured.
Alone.
Trying not to let it show.
And something settles.
Not excitement.
Not romance.
Decision.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say.
Her shoulders drop just slightly.
Relief.
Not victory.
Not possession.
Just… relief.
“Okay,” she whispers.
I reach for my phone.
Type out a quick message.
To: Kane
Bring me a bag. I’m at the hospital with Isa. I’m staying.
Three dots appear immediately.
Then:
Kane:
Done.
I set the phone down.
Lean back in the chair.
Let the silence settle again.
Isa’s eyes start to drift closed.
“Hey,” she murmurs, half-asleep already.
“Yeah?”
“You’re a good guy, Tristan.”
I don’t answer that.
Because good guys don’t sit next to one girl—
While thinking about another.
And I don’t know what that makes me yet.
But I know this much:
I made a choice.
And I’m going to stand by it.
Even if it costs me the one thing I never really got a chance to have.