Chapter 31
thirty-one
Jackson
By the time we get back to the hospital, my arms are full and my patience is gone.
Zach has the rest of it slung awkwardly against his side, Lia’s pillow tucked under one arm like it actually matters that it doesn’t touch the floor, like it’s something fragile, something we can’t afford to damage, and neither of us says it out loud, but we both know why we grabbed it.
Because it smells like her.
Because if she wakes up, when she wakes up, she’ll want something that feels like home.
We don’t speak much on the way in. There’s nothing left to say that hasn’t already been said in a hundred different ways, and the silence between us isn’t empty, it’s tight, stretched thin with everything sitting underneath it, everything we’re both trying not to touch.
The automatic doors slide open and the hospital air hits me again, too clean, too sharp, and I hate it all over again, hate that this is where she is, hate that this is what we have to come back to.
I see them before they see us.
Evelyn is standing just outside Lia’s room, her arms wrapped loosely around herself like she doesn’t quite know what to do with them, like she hasn’t settled since we left, and Lucian is beside her, not touching her, not close enough to draw attention, but close enough.
Watching her.
Not like a friend.
Not like someone who’s just there because he has to be.
The way his attention lingers, the way his focus tracks her when she shifts even slightly, the way he angles himself toward her without thinking about it, I know that look.
And something in my chest tightens immediately.
It’s not the time.
It’s not even the situation.
But I clock it anyway.
Store it.
Because that’s my sister, and I don’t miss things like that.
Zach slows slightly beside me as they both look up, their attention snapping toward us, and Evelyn’s face softens when she sees what we’re carrying.
“She’ll like that,” she says quietly, her eyes flicking over the blanket, the pillow, the things we grabbed without really thinking about it but somehow getting exactly right anyway.
Lucian nods toward the door. “Elijah’s in there.”
I follow his gaze briefly, something tightening in my chest again at the thought of him alone in there with her for hours, before I nod once.
Evelyn shifts slightly, like she’s been holding something back.
“Mark’s been asking questions,” she says, her voice more hesitant now, careful. “About why you both missed practice… and the game.”
My jaw tightens.
“I had to explain something,” she continues quickly. “Not everything, but enough that management doesn’t start coming after you.”
“I don’t care about hockey right now, Evie.”
The words come out sharper than I intend, but I don’t take them back.
I don’t have the space to soften them.
She exhales, shaking her head slightly, stepping closer.
“Don’t say that, Jackson,” she says, her voice quieter but firmer now. “Lia wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want you throwing everything away.”
Her gaze shifts to Zach.
“Both of you.”
Zach doesn’t hesitate.
“I’m not throwing anything away,” he says, calm but final. “I’ve already decided. I’m retiring at the end of the season.”
Evelyn’s expression tightens, something like frustration flashing through it before she looks back at me.
“You’re just starting,” she says, softer now but no less intense. “You can’t afford to lose this now.”
Something in me snaps.
“This is more important, Evie,” I bite out, the words rough, dragging something raw up with them. “She died in my fucking arms. I am not leaving her again.”
The words land heavy between us.
Too real.
Too close to the surface.
Lucian steps in before Evelyn can respond, his tone measured, controlled.
“If you’re willing to change agents,” he says, looking between the two of us, “I can work this out for you.”
I study him for a second, the offer sitting there, unexpected but not unwelcome.
“I’ve got contracts,” I say. “With my current agent.”
Lucian shrugs slightly, like that detail doesn’t matter.
“Between Christian and I, we can get you out of any contract,” he replies easily. “We’ve kept Elijah out of jail so far. You’re easy in comparison.”
Zach doesn’t even pause.
“Do what you need to do.”
There’s no hesitation in it.
No second guessing.
And I feel that same certainty settle in me a second later.
“Same,” I say.
Lucian’s mouth curves slightly, something approving in it.
“Leave it with me.”
He turns back to Evelyn, his tone shifting just enough to soften.
“You should go home. Get some rest. I’ll take you.”
She hesitates, her eyes flicking back toward the door, toward Lia.
Then she steps forward, wrapping her arms around me tightly.
I hold onto her for a second, grounding, familiar, before she pulls back, her hand coming up to brush against Zach’s arm gently.
“Call me if anything changes,” she says quietly.
Lucian turns with her, starting toward the exit, but pauses after a few steps, glancing back at us.
“She’s right,” he says, his tone more serious now. “Lia will wake up. And when she does, she won’t want you throwing your lives away.”
His eyes land on me.
“I’ve seen your stats,” he adds. “You have talent. Don’t waste it.”
I nod once.
Don’t answer.
Because I don’t know how to hold both of those things at the same time.
“Thank you,” I say instead. “For helping.”
He inclines his head slightly, turning again, and I step forward, catching his arm before he can walk away.
“And Lucian.”
He looks at me.
Something in my chest sharpens.
“Just because we’re friendly,” I say quietly, my voice low enough that Evelyn doesn’t hear it, “doesn’t mean I don’t see the way you look at my sister.”
His expression doesn’t change.
Not really.
“Stay away from her.”
There’s a beat.
Then he smiles.
Not mocking.
Not dismissive.
Just… calm.
And then he turns, continuing down the hall with Evelyn beside him like I didn’t just say anything at all.
I watch them go for a second longer than I should.
Then I turn back to the door and push it open.
The room is quiet when we step inside.
Too quiet.
The machines are still doing their job, steady, rhythmic, the only thing breaking through the silence, and for a second my brain doesn’t process what I’m looking at.
Then it does.
Elijah is on the bed.
Curled around her.
His body wrapped around hers like he hasn’t moved in hours, like he’s been holding her like that the entire time, his face buried against her, his hand still resting protectively over her stomach.
Even from here, I can see it.
The tear tracks down his face.
Still wet in places. Not wiped away.
Zach swears softly beside me.
I don’t say anything.
Because I don’t have anything to say.
I didn’t think I’d ever see him like that.
Not like this.
Not… broken.
Not stripped down to something that looks more like a man who almost lost everything than the one who tore someone apart hours ago without hesitation.
Something shifts in my chest.
Heavy.
I move forward quietly, setting the things down carefully so nothing makes too much noise, before I grab the throw blanket and step closer to the bed.
I hesitate for a second.
Then I drape it over both of them, covering them gently, adjusting it so it sits properly over her, over him, like it matters, like I can give them something even if it’s small.
He doesn’t wake.
Doesn’t move.
I walk around to the other side, my hand coming up to brush lightly over her hair, softer than I’ve ever touched anything in my life.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I murmur quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.
Her skin is warm.
But she doesn’t respond.
Zach steps in after me, doing the same, his hand lingering for a second longer before he pulls back, his jaw tightening as he steps away.
We don’t speak.
There’s nothing to say.
We both move back to the chairs, sitting down without looking at each other, both of us facing the bed, watching her, waiting.
Just... waiting for her to come back.