48
Noah stepped out of Claire’s private suite and into an absolute cluster.
The waiting room looked less like a hospital and more like the aftermath of a bus accident.
Huge bodies filled every available chair, spilled onto armrests, leaned against walls, and sat cross-legged on the floor.
Some still wore team hoodies. Others were wrapped in hospital blankets over athletic shorts, ice packs taped to knees, shoulders, ribs.
A few genuinely looked like they belonged on gurneys instead of chairs.
Nurses weaved around them with the skillful patience of people who had already given up on reclaiming the space.
Across the room, a woman whispered urgently into her phone while subtly pointing at Noah. A teenager openly staring, until his mother smacked his arm and hissed, “Don’t be rude.”
Recognition rippled quietly though the waiting room.
Whispers.
Phone cameras lowered quickly when the coppers glanced over.
The Crusaders.
The Eagles.
Two squads of elite athletes jammed into a space meant for maybe thirty normal humans.
Kelsey stood near the vending machines, phone in hand, typing furiously.
Noah walked up beside him just in time to see the message sent.
“Kels? Everything good?” Noah asked quietly.
Kesley nodded. “Suzy and Corny. I told them that she’s stable and awake and not alone. Flights are booked. They said to thank everyone.” He touched Noah’s shoulder. “It’ll be ok, Cap.”
Noah huffed softly despite himself. “Good.”
He turned to the room, raising his voice slightly.
“Alright. I’ve got an update.”
Instant silence.
Every head snapped toward him, even the onlookers waiting for loved ones.
“She’s awake,” he said. “Stable, alert. Exhausted. She’s safe.”
Relief swept the room like a wave. Some guys exhaled loudly. Someone muttered a prayer under their breath. Toby closed his eyes briefly, shoulders sagging, both arms now in slings after the fight.
“But,” Noah continued, “This is a hospital. Not a shed. You’re taking up half the waiting room and intimidating our loyal fans.”
Across the room, Liam agreed, “Fair.”
“You all need to go home,” Noah said firmly. “Shower. Eat. Sleep. Be with your loved ones. She’s going to need you to be functional tomorrow, and she will want you to recover. Tania will post sign-up sheets for shifts; you can pick times and dates for you to come and visit.”
There was grumbling.
“I can sleep on the floor,” Miko offered.
“No,” Noah said flatly.
“I can sleep standing,” Liam countered.
“No.”
Kelsey crossed his arms. “What about emotionally hovering nearby.”
“Hover in spirit from the comfort of your own homes,” Noah replied.
Reluctantly they began to shift. Jackets pulled out, ice packs returned to the nurses. Chairs freed one by one.
That’s when the automatic doors slid open and Jack stumbled in.
Still in yesterday’s clothes. Hoodie half-zipped. Hair a mess. Dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he’d sprinted the last mile or maybe he couldn’t sleep from the news Jason told him while in the Med Box.
His eyes scanned the room wildly.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
Noah nodded towards Claire’s door, turning slowly.
Jack was already moving.
“She’s awake?” Jack asked breathlessly.
“Yes.”
“You and me…” he said to Noah, pushing a finger into his face. “We aren’t done.” A threat. A promise.
Jack didn't wait for permission. He pushed past Noah, already headed down the hall toward her room.
Noah watched him go.
Something twisted quietly deep in his soul.
He could stop him, but he didn’t. Instead, he stepped aside. Because this wasn’t about winning the girl in the end.
It was about Claire.
And right now, she deserved to choose who she needed beside her bed.
Noah turned back to the room and clapped his hands once.
“Alright. Out. Before security decides to haul you out by your feet.”
Grumbling laughter followed. The shortest one there was at least 3cm taller than the tallest copper there. They listened anyway.
As the room slowly emptied, Noah glanced once more down the hallway towards Claire’s door.
Jack had already disappeared inside.
Noah exhaled slowly.
He didn’t know which of them she would choose.
He only knew that he was willing to step back – if it was what she wanted. If it meant she felt safe.
Jack didn’t knock.
He pushed the door open carefully, like he was afraid even the sound might hurt her.
Claire lay propped up against white pillows, TV on, hair loose around her shoulders. The color finally returned to her cheeks, but her eyes were still tired, still heavy with too much reality. The steady beep of the monitor marked time between them.
She looked at Jack entering and glanced back at the rugby match on the TV. It was Germany versus Australia. She was imagining Michaela there, dutifully watching her husband, worrying.
“Even now, you’re still watching rugby?” Jack laughed.
Claire smiled. “Jack…”
He crossed the room in three long strides and stopped at the perimeter of her bed. Not crossing the barrier. His hands hovered uselessly at his sides, like he didn’t know where to put all the emotion.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve walked you to the bar. I was mad at Jason, and what he said. I should’ve stayed sober. I should’ve–”
She lifted her hand. “Jack. Stop.”
His voice broke anyways. “I heard what happened and I thought I was going to throw up. I got on the first ride here. I didn’t care about the pain, any of it. I just needed to see you breathing.”
Her throat tightened.
He swallowed hard. “I love you, Claire.”
The words were soft and bare. Not cocky or condescending.
“I think I've loved you longer than I admitted to myself,” he continued.” “You make me want to be better. You make me want to be smarter. I want every version of you, in all your forms.”
Silence settled thick between them.
Claire closed her eyes briefly.
When she opened them again, they were gentle, but resolute.
“Jack… you don’t love me.”
His face fell. “What?”
“You love the idea of me,” she said quietly. “The caretaker. The woman who fixes you and makes you feel grounded.”
“That’s not true–”
“It is,” she said softly. “You don’t actually know me in the quiet moments. You don’t know my fears. My boundaries. My mess. You just know how I show up for you, and I just have a pretty face attached.”
His face was shaved, his blond hair trimmed short on the sides and longer on the top. Blue eyes, shimmering with what could be a tear. “That doesn’t make it fake.”
“No,” she said, voice kind. “It makes it incomplete. And I won’t build something on half-love. Not after everything I’ve been through.”
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once. “So that’s it? After all this?”
She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You deserve someone who wants you the way you want me. And I deserve someone who sees me, and not just what I give to them.”
Jack just stared at her. Slowly taking in Claire’s resolve and coming to terms that his declaration of love was not reciprocated.
“I am glad you came,” she said. “It means you care. But I can’t be what you’re asking for.”
He took a shaky breath.
“I just don't want you to think I didn’t fight for you.”
She met his eyes steadily. “You did. It shows how brave you are. It just doesn’t change the answer.”
There was a long pause. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead.
“I’m sorry,” she said to him.
Careful, respectful, final.
“Get better,” he whispered. “The world would be awful without you in it.”
Then he straightened, squared his shoulders, and walked out quietly.
Claire stared at the door long after it closed.
Her heart hurt.
But it didn’t feel wrong.