45. Chapter 45
Seren
The warm California air drifted around me, and I inhaled the smell of the ocean.
The soft salty sweetness usually settled me, but today, it barely made a dent.
My body was here, sun on my shoulders, but my mind kept drifting to a toddler who’d woken up without me, to a hospital room I wasn’t in, to a brother I couldn’t help.
I couldn’t even think about work. Everyone had been texting, and Connor and Teddy had come by once, but it was all overwhelming.
I missed Cai so sharply it felt like a bruise under my ribs.
I wanted to hear Nate’s voice again; it was an ache in my bones. Him being awake sporadically was harder in so many ways than him being sedated.
I hated that I couldn’t be on the lineup tomorrow with my girls.
“Seren!”
Lola, Evie, Teddy, and Micah were crossing the parking lot like a small, determined army. Did I just manifest them? I blinked, because my brain couldn’t compute that they were actually here.
“What—What are you doing?” My voice came out thin, scraped raw as they got closer.
“We brought you a care package,” Teddy said, holding up a tote bag full of things. “And before you argue, shut up. You don’t get to be stubborn today.”
Evie held up another bag. “Snacks, clean socks, dry shampoo, a stupid magazine with quizzes to keep you busy. And a blanket because hospital air?conditioning is evil.”
“And,” Lola added, lifting the Tupperware like it was a trophy, “food. Real food. Not whatever that inside pretends is edible.”
Micah stepped forward too. “And to give you the biggest hug in the world.”
They wrapped themselves so tightly around me that I couldn’t breathe even a little bit. There were arms everywhere, someone’s hair in my face, Micah’s chin bumping the top of my head. It was ridiculous and warm and overwhelming in a way that made my eyes sting.
“We had to do this for Teddy last year too,” Evie said into my shoulder.
“We’re good at it, pros now,” Lola added, squeezing me once more for emphasis.
Teddy huffed. “I was emotionally unstable.”
“We know,” they all said in unison.
The thing about women like us, I thought, was that we learned very young how to survive without asking for much. We learned to carry our own bags, our own grief, our own panic. We learned how to smile while exhausted, how to say I’m fine while our worlds quietly caved in behind our teeth.
And somewhere along the way, we stopped expecting people to notice when we were drowning.
So maybe that was why this hit me so hard.
The fact they’d arrived before I’d even figured out how to ask for help.
“You didn’t have to—”
“We know,” they all echoed again.
These women loved loudly.
In food containers and stupid magazines and brutal honesty. In turning up unasked. In refusing to leave me alone with my own sadness. In teasing each other while holding me together at the exact same time.
And I understood why Teddy fought so hard for this team beyond rugby itself. It was never only about the sport. It was about this. About building something where women didn’t have to carry anything alone to be considered strong.
The lump in my throat grew vicious.
“I don’t know why this is making me emotional,” I admitted, my voice embarrassingly wrecked.
“Oh, babe,” Evie said immediately, eyes softening. “Because you’ve had the worst few days of your life.”
“And because,” Teddy added quietly, “you’re allowed to be held together by people sometimes.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket before I could say anything else.
I yanked my phone out so fast I nearly dropped it. Jake’s name lit up my screen.
I didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he was talking.
“Baby, I need you up here,” he said, breathless.
“What’s wrong?” I looked at Lola, who was assessing me.
“Nate’s awake and talking.”
My knees weakened, but the girls caught me.
I didn’t even realize I’d started walking until I nearly collided with another person.
Mumbling a half-hearted apology was all I could do as I raced to see Nate.
I vaguely heard the girls behind me, but I couldn’t focus on them telling me they’d be in the waiting room.
Nate was awake, and my heart was cantering to get to my big brother, to see his eyes open and hear his grumpy ass talking.
The elevator took too long, the walk to his room too far, but when I opened his door and saw him more upright and scowling at a nurse, a doctor, and Jake, I took my first real breath in days.
My hand was already over my mouth, trying to hold in the sound clawing its way up my throat, but it didn’t matter; I knew he’d heard it.
“Hey,” he rasped, and the word hit me harder than the news that he was awake.
I crossed the room in three strides, every instinct screaming to throw myself into one of his bone?cracking bear hugs, but the reality of the wires, abdomen dressings and pins holding his leg stopped me short. I hovered, useless, hands twitching with the need to touch him and terrified to hurt him.
“I’m mad at you,” I managed, because it was the only thing that didn’t break me open completely.
“Apparently, he shouldn’t try to talk much,” Jake said, grinning, “so if you’ve got things to get off your chest, and you want him to listen, now’s a great time.”
I smiled, ready to let loose, but I quickly realized my brain was empty. I’d thought I’d have a whole speech—anger, fear, all the things I’d rehearsed in the dark corners of my mind over these last two days—but standing here, looking at my brother actually awake, all of it dissolved.
Dr. Wyatt spoke up first. “Nathaniel is doing well, a little in and out, but that’s to be expected. We’ll keep him for a few more days to monitor him, then the orthopedic surgeon will fix his femur break once we’re convinced his liver is healing well.”
“A few more days?” I repeated, trying to focus.
Dr. Wyatt placed the tablet back at the foot of Nate’s bed. “He’s doing well overall. His vitals are stable, which is what we want to see. But recovery after this kind of trauma can fluctuate. Some moments he’ll seem more alert than others.”
I nodded like I absorbed everything he’d said, but the reality was, my brain was struggling to process anything past he’s awake.
“The procedure we performed on his liver was to stop the bleeding from the accident. Once his body has recovered more, orthopedics will reassess and discuss next steps to repair the break in his leg. We’re anticipating ligament damage in his knee too, but until the swelling goes down, we can’t see the extent of it.
The best outcome is we manage it with physical therapy after the femur is fixed. ”
Nate hardly sat still a day in his life, so knowing that this would be months of recovery and more surgery, my heart pinched for him. But there was no way he was going through this alone.
Nate lifted his good hand, slow and shaky, and rested it over mine with a sharp inhale. Turmoil and agony glossed over his features like a tidal wave. His palm was warm, and his fingers trembled as he tried to squeeze tighter, but he was holding my hand. He was awake enough to do that.
Everything in me crumbled.
“We’ll let you have some time, but he should rest some more soon.” Dr. Wyatt offered us one last reassuring smile before he and the nurse filtered out of the room.
The silence that followed was a heavy, deep wound that none of us could fix.
“I’m just…” I hiccupped, “I’m glad you’re here.”
His thumb brushed my knuckles, enough to undo me completely.
“Me too,” he breathed, and I felt it like a release valve inside my chest.
“I’ll give you two a minute,” Jake said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head as he passed.
I let myself collapse as close as I possibly could to Nate, sobbing into the hospital sheets.
I let it all go, every dark thought I’d had when my mom called, the nerves when we arrived at the hospital, each one centered around what I would do if I lost him.
All of that meant nothing because my big brother was here and everything was going to be okay.
***
By the time we got back to my place, the sky had gone that deep bruised-blue color that only seemed to exist in the space between exhaustion and midnight.
The street was quiet. Jake parked in his usual spot, and the engine ticked as it cooled.
My bones were aching and my mind was hanging by a thread, but I was also so damn grateful.
Inside, my place was dim and still. I wasn’t used to the quiet here.
But tonight, Cai was with his dad, with only a handful of messages between us, and I knew he was already asleep.
That bittersweet feeling of being apart from my baby would forever be alien to me, as much as I needed to sleep in my own bed for the foreseeable future, a part of me wanted so badly to curl up in my bed with him and never let him go.
Jake came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his head in the crook of my neck. He breathed in as I breathed out. “I miss our boy when he’s not here.”
The words hit me like a warm hand pressed to the center of my chest.
Our boy.
The lump in my throat wedged so deep, I could hardly swallow.
He had been so careful around Cai since the beginning, making sure not to overstep, but this was different. This was him thinking of Cai without a reminder, subconsciously aware of someone he wasn’t responsible for, but recognizing that something inside him was missing my little boy.
And the truth of it was that he’d been slowly weaving himself into the fabric of our days. It showed in the way my son’s face lit up when he saw him. The way I’d started thinking in we without noticing.
I sunk into the warmth of him at my back like sunlight after weeks of rain, knowing he’d fully awoken parts of me that had been numb for far too long.
There was something dangerously comforting in the steadiness of his hands on my skin, in the certainty of his touch, and a thousand unspoken words crowded the tip of my tongue, aching to finally be let free.
Slowly, I turned in his arms.
His dark-blond hair was a mess from days of putting himself last, soft strands falling over tired eyes that still somehow managed to sparkle anyway.
There were shadows beneath them now, earned through worry and sleepless nights, and yet he looked at me with the same open tenderness that always undid me.
And my heart, god, my heart moved toward him like the tide answering the pull of the moon, helpless against it, made for it.
Every part of me wanted to hold on to him with both hands and never let go.
To claim him openly, selfishly. To tell him every thought I had intended to tell him before the accident.
Him standing here looking exhausted and beautiful and painfully hopeful all at once. Him showing up for me over and over without ever asking for anything in return. Him becoming so woven into my life that the thought of a future without him now felt impossible to survive.
His hands flexed slightly at my waist.
“What?” he asked quietly, a crooked sort of smile tugging at his mouth. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I lifted my hand before I could stop myself, brushing the hair back from his forehead.
“Because, I think,” I said, my voice unsteady, “you are yet another one of my life’s surprises.”
And I was so lucky to have two of them so far.
“Seren.” My name from his lips was full of emotion.
I shook my head before he could interrupt whatever courage had finally decided to bloom inside me. “No, let me say this, please.”
He nodded once.
“You make me feel safe,” I whispered first, because somehow that felt like the most terrifying confession of all.
“I was surviving before you. My entire life revolved around making sure everything else was okay. Cai. Schedules. Training. Derek. Bills. Groceries. Daycare pickup. Remembering who needs what and when.” I laughed softly, though there wasn’t much humor in it.
“And I love my life. I love being Cai’s mom more than anything in this world, but sometimes it feels like I’m spinning ten plates at once, and if I stop moving for even a second, everything crashes. ”
Jake’s eyes remained fixed on mine, and I raised my hand to run my thumb over where I knew his dimples were hiding.
“And then you came in,” I continued, “and suddenly, there was someone asking if I’d eaten and taking me for hot-dog dates.
Someone who noticed when I was exhausted before I even said anything and taking Cai so I could sleep in.
Someone who made space for me without making me feel guilty for taking it up. ”
Emotion burned slowly up my throat.
“I will be forever grateful for your stubbornness and determination for getting me to see beyond just being friends with you.”
His gaze flicked over my face like he was trying to memorize every piece of it. Slowly, he lifted his hand, his eyes following the path of his own fingertips, before brushing a loose strand of hair back behind my ear with an almost unbearable gentleness.
“Baby,” he breathed. “The moment I met you, I was never going to be just your friend. Future husband, sure. But not just your friend.”
A startled laugh escaped me. His ability to make me laugh was one of my favorite things.
“You think I looked at you holding Cai for the first time and thought, yeah, let’s keep this platonic?” He shook his head faintly. “Absolutely not. I was gone.”
Warmth bloomed through my chest so instantly it almost hurt.
“I know your life is full,” he said with tenderness. “I know you’ve spent a long time carrying everything yourself. But Seren, if you’d let me, I’d spend the rest of my life trying to make it lighter.”
I could feel his breathing. The warmth of his skin. The steadiness of him surrounding all the frantic places inside me that never seemed to stop moving.
Jake’s hand slid up my back slowly until it settled at the nape of my neck, his forehead resting lightly against mine. “Let me run you a bath.”
When his lips pressed gently against my forehead, I watched him disappear toward the bathroom, listened to the soft sounds of cupboards opening and water beginning to run, and stood there in the middle of my quiet apartment with my hand pressed against my chest like it might steady the feeling growing there.
Because somewhere between dates and hospital rooms, between him being here for us, I had fallen completely and hopelessly in love with him.