Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Cole
The hospital never really slept.
Even when the lights dimmed and the hallway quieted, the place stayed alert. Machines hummed, doors opened and closed, and footsteps passed by like reminders that pain didn’t take breaks.
I sat in the chair beside Star’s bed with my boots planted on the tile and my cut draped over my shoulders. I hadn’t slept much. That was fine. I didn’t need to.
She did.
Star was out cold now. Not the restless kind of sleep. The kind where her body finally gave in and stopped fighting.
A nurse had come in earlier. I’d watched the whole thing—not because I didn’t trust her, but because I didn’t trust anything. Not after what had happened. She’d checked vitals, adjusted the IV, scribbled notes, and shot me a look like she was trying to figure out if I was family or trouble.
Didn’t matter.
I wasn’t leaving.
Morning crept in through the blinds in thin gray lines. The monitor beeped steadily and patiently, like it had all the time in the world. Star’s breathing stayed even.
Alive. Stable. That was what mattered.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I stilled, and my eyes flicked to Star’s face. She didn’t move. I stood quietly and stepped toward the window before answering.
“Yeah,” I said.
“You upright or down for the count?” Dad asked.
I glanced back at the bed. “Upright.”
“Figures. She wake up?”
“A little. Water. Passed back out.”
“That’s good.”
I waited. Dad didn’t call just to check in.
“What’s the plan?” I asked.
“Same as always,” he said. “We find who did it.”
“And?”
“And we make sure they can’t do it again.”
That sat heavy but solid.
“Police still working it?” I asked.
Dad let out a low breath. “They’re doing what police do.”
Which meant paperwork and patience.
Neither of which I had much of.
“It happened on our turf,” I said. “That makes it our responsibility.”
Dad was quiet for a beat. Then, “You’re taking this personal.”
I kept my voice even. “It is personal. Someone got hurt.”
Another pause. Then, calmer, “I’ve got Mac and Brinks heading your way.”
“Good.”
“You don’t need to stay,” he added.
“I know.”
“But you’re going to.”
I didn’t answer that.
“Cole,” Dad said. “Don’t let this turn into something reckless.”
“I won’t.”
That part was true.
We hung up. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and turned toward the bed again.
Star hadn’t moved. Her hair was a mess against the pillow, bruising dark against pale skin. She looked smaller like this.
I didn’t touch her.
I wanted to. But wanting didn’t matter. Guarding did.
I sat back down and kept watch.
The door opened quietly.
Mac came in first, carrying a basket. Brinks followed, already smirking.
“You look like shit,” Brinks whispered.
“Morning to you too.”
Mac set the basket down and looked at Star, her expression softening. “She okay?”
“She slept. Woke up for a bit,” I said. “That’s progress.”
Star stirred then, eyes barely cracking open. “You’re all whispering.”
Mac smiled. “Welcome back, kid.”
I stood automatically, stepping closer to the bed without thinking. “Hey.”
Her gaze found me. Recognition flickered there.
“You’re still here,” she murmured.
“Yeah.”
She didn’t comment on it. Just closed her eyes again.
Mac glanced between us, sharp. “You can go.”
“I know.”
“You should.”
I hesitated only a second. “Call if anything changes.”
Star’s eyes opened again. “Sleeping is about the only thing I’m going to be doing.”
“I’ll be here no matter what,” I said.
I left before staying became something else.