Chapter 35
thirty-five
Jackson
The hallway outside Lia’s room feels like it’s holding its breath.
It isn’t quiet in the way silence usually is, because there’s still movement, still nurses passing, still the low hum of a place that doesn’t stop just because your world did, but everything about it feels suspended anyway, like time has slowed just enough to make every second stretch longer than it should.
I haven’t sat down.
I tried once, long enough to realize that being still makes it worse, makes everything catch up too quickly, so now I’m pacing instead, back and forth across the same few steps like if I keep moving, I won’t have to feel the way my chest tightens every time I think too hard about what’s on the other side of that door.
Zach leans against the wall, arms folded, his focus fixed somewhere ahead of him, but I can see it in the way his jaw shifts slightly every few seconds, the way his fingers flex and still again, that he’s not as steady as he looks.
Elijah doesn’t move at all.
He’s closest to the door, standing like he’s planted there, like he’s guarding it even though there’s nothing left to fight, and there’s something about the way he holds himself now that makes the air feel heavier, like whatever snapped into place in him out there hasn’t gone anywhere.
None of us say anything.
We don’t need to.
Everything that matters is in that room.
Footsteps pull my attention up before I realize who it is.
Mark.
Of course it’s Mark.
He slows slightly when he reaches us, his gaze moving over the three of us in a way that tells me he’s already taking in more than he’s going to say out loud, before settling properly.
“How is she?” he asks, and there’s something real in it, something that isn’t just obligation.
“She’s okay,” I say, the word still feeling strange every time I use it. “She’s recovering.”
He nods once.
“That’s good,” he says, and I can tell he means it, at least for that part.
There’s a pause.
“Can we expect you back in the next couple of days?”
There it is.
Straight to it.
“For practice,” he adds, like I need the clarification. “And the home game this weekend.”
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly, my eyes flicking toward the door without meaning to, like I need to check it’s still there, like she’s still there.
“Probably not,” I say.
The frustration doesn’t come out loud.
But it’s there.
“I understand you’ve got personal circumstances,” he says, more controlled now, like he’s trying to keep this professional, “and I’m aware there’s been a change in your representation that’s given you some flexibility in your contract, but you can’t disappear like this, Jackson.”
My jaw tightens slightly.
“I’m not disappearing,” I reply, keeping my voice even, even though it doesn’t feel like it. “I’m here because she needs me.”
“And I get that,” he says quickly, but there’s pressure under it now. “I do. But you’re one of our best players. The team relies on you performing. That’s your role.”
That lands differently.
Expectation.
Value.
“You’ve got momentum right now,” he continues. “You’re having a strong season. You can’t afford to lose that by stepping away for this long.”
I look at him properly then.
At the way he’s trying to frame this.
At the world he’s still standing in.
“I’m not worried about momentum,” I say, quieter now, but firmer. “I’m worried about her.”
There’s a pause.
A longer one this time.
Because that’s not the answer he wants.
“We’ll see how things go,” I add, cutting it off before he can push further, because I don’t have the capacity for this conversation right now.
His gaze shifts to Zach.
“And you?” he asks. “We need you back as well.”
Zach doesn’t move from where he’s leaning, his expression steady, but there’s something different in his eyes now, something more final.
“I’ll come back when I’m ready,” he says simply.
Not defensive.
Not uncertain.
Just decided.
Mark exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s holding back everything he actually wants to say.
Before he turns to Elijah.
“The league is keeping your suspension in place for the remaining games,” he says, more direct now. “But I’ve been informed all charges have been dropped.”
That makes something in my chest tighten slightly, even though I expected it.
Mark studies him.
Really studies him.
Like he’s trying to understand what he’s looking at.
“Whoever your lawyer is,” he says, “they’re very good.”
Elijah doesn’t shift. Doesn’t react.
“My lawyer is my brother.”
Mark lets out a quiet breath, something almost like disbelief flickering across his face.
“Well,” he says slowly, “he’s very good at what he does.”
There’s something else there.
A question.
I can see it forming.
The way his mouth opens slightly.
The way his eyes sharpen.
But before he can ask it...
“Mr. Bellandi?”
The doctor’s voice cuts through the moment.
We all turn.
“I need to speak with you for a moment.”
Elijah moves immediately.
“Okay.”
Mark steps back, giving space, his attention lingering for a second longer before he nods.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he says.
And then he’s gone.
Just like that.
Like that entire world just stepped out of the hallway again.
We follow the doctor a short distance down, not far, just enough to give space from the room but not enough that I lose track of it completely.
“I wanted to update you,” he says, his tone calm, steady in a way that makes me focus immediately.
“She’s doing very well,” he continues. “Her recovery is progressing exactly how we hoped.”
Something in my chest loosens.
Not fully.
But enough.
“If everything continues as it is,” he adds, “we should be able to discharge her within the next couple of days.”
Zach exhales beside me, his head tipping back briefly like he’s been holding that in longer than I realized.
“Home,” he mutters.
The word hits harder than I expect.
“Is there anything we need to watch for?” I ask, my voice tighter now. “With… everything. The pregnancy.”
The doctor shakes his head.
“No,” he says. “At this stage, everything is progressing normally. There are no complications we’re concerned about. You can treat this like a standard early pregnancy.”
Relief hits differently this time.
Sharper.
Cleaner.
“She’s in very good condition overall,” he continues. “Her baseline health has worked strongly in her favour. Aside from the injury, her body is responding well.”
Zach nods slightly, already absorbing that, already turning it into something practical.
“What do we need to do?” he asks. “When she’s discharged.”
“Rest,” the doctor replies. “Monitor the wound, keep the stitches clean, watch for signs of infection. No strain. Let her heal.”
We all nod.
Taking it in.
Holding onto it.
“She’s strong,” the doctor adds.
I glance back toward the room.
Toward her.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “She is.”
The doctor gives a small nod before stepping away. Zach exhales again, slower this time, running a hand over the back of his neck.
“We can take her home,” he says quietly.
I nod.
“Yeah,” I say.
My eyes settle on the door again.
Everything that matters is still behind it.
But for the first time since we got her back, it doesn’t feel like we’re trying to hold onto her. It feels like we’re actually getting her back.