Chapter 14 - Landon
Landon
The rain hammered the Mission Valley windows in sheets, drumming against the roof in a way that rattled the fluorescent lights.
Every hallway echoed with hurried footsteps, clipped instructions, rolling carts squeaking over wet floors.
The storm wasn’t subtle anymore; it was full-on, relentless, and the hospital felt every bit as stretched thin as the storm outside.
I threaded through the hallways, sneakers squeaking against slick tile, eyes flicking past exhausted nurses juggling charts, IVs, and patients who’d clearly been waiting longer than they should have.
My eyes absently scanned for Nicole, but I didn’t hold out any hope I’d spot her in the chaos.
Besides, she wasn’t the reason I was here.
Shawn’s room was on the third floor, a corner room with a view of the parking lot where puddles swallowed the lines.
The blinds were down, but enough light seeped in to catch the gray sky outside and the occasional streak of lightning.
He lay propped on the bed, white sheets pulled to his chest, arm in a sling, bandaged head, and that same sardonic grin he always wore at the rink when he knew he was one-up on someone.
“You made it,” he said, his voice carrying that mix of teasing and irritation he always saved for me. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up after that last cloud burst.”
I felt my stomach tighten just a little. The last thing I wanted was him still carrying heat over my screw-up on the ice. “I owe you, man. Wild horses, and all that.”
“Seriously, dude. Are you okay?” There was a flicker behind his eyes, a realness I hadn’t seen much from him before.
“I’m fine. Still processing the fact that I caused all this.” I gestured to his general state of injury, and gave a humorless chuckle. “And more importantly, I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
His laugh was a little pained, a little breathless. “Mad? Nah. You were being a dick on the ice, but that’s nothing new. I know you didn’t mean it like that.”
Relief washed through me sharper than I expected. “Good, because I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make it up to you. Whatever you want.”
“Now that you mention it…” He smirked, eyes moving to the door then back again. “They’ve got me on a controlled diet, and it’s killing me. How about you start that whatever it takes journey, and grab me some Skittles from the vending machine?”
The tension in my shoulders loosened and I shook my head with a laugh. “Should’ve known you’d take advantage of my goodwill. Guess I’m the designated candy mule now.”
“Don’t let the nurses catch you, rookie.” He settled back on his pillows. “And maybe grab me a soda while you’re at it. Hydration’s important.”
“Hydration, got it. Anything else? Some caviar, maybe? A couple of swimsuit models in white bikinis?”
He lay back on his pillows, thinking hard. “Maybe just one model for now. I’ll need both my hands if we double the number.”
We laughed, and he clutched his side when it got a little too much.
“Shit, stop doing that,” I said, forcing my own laughter down to a simmer. “I don’t want you pulling a stitch or whatever.”
He waved me off, still kneading his ribs as I headed out into the hallway, dodging nurses and the occasional gurney. The storm outside matched the pulse of the hospital, both relentless. But I felt lighter, like I’d finally started turning the page on something that meant more.
The hallway stretched toward the service elevators, the ceiling lower here, the lights a little dimmer.
Rain battered the windows at the far end, each gust shoving water sideways against the glass.
The vending machines stood dark except for one glowing panel, its rows half-empty, wrappers jammed where other people had given up.
I checked my pockets for cash, savoring the new lightness that had replaced the weight on my chest.
This whole time I’d been convinced I didn’t give a shit about my team. That I could play my hockey anywhere and be just as good, and just as happy. Only once all this went down did it occur to me— The Surge was my team. And I didn’t want to play my game for anyone else.
Footsteps cut across the corridor from the opposite direction, fast enough to register before I placed the face.
Nicole.
She was moving with purpose, ponytail swinging against the back of her scrub top, badge bouncing at her hip. She had that look people get in hospitals during bad weather, eyes fixed ahead, body already late for wherever it was headed.
“Nicole,” I called, louder than I meant to, and winced when my voice ricocheted off the bare walls.
She turned and lifted a hand in brief acknowledgment without coming closer. “I can’t stop. It’s a madhouse tonight.”
“I just need a second.”
“There are no seconds tonight,” she said, walking backward. At least she added an apologetic look to soften the blow.
The vending machine faded from my priorities. I crossed the distance between us without thinking, my feet picking up speed to match hers. She glanced sideways, surprise flickering across her face as she realized I was keeping pace.
“If you’re going to say something,” she said, “you’re saying it on my way down to the ER.”
“Deal.”
She angled toward the service elevator and hit the call button a few times in succession.
Because, as we all knew, that made them go faster.
The doors slid open, revealing a broader car with scuffed walls and a flickering panel of floor numbers.
She stepped inside, and I followed, earning myself a look that landed somewhere between disbelief and amusement.
“Do you have nothing better to do in the middle of a storm than follow me around at work?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I’ve been told I make questionable decisions under pressure.”
“That checks out,” she said, then added, “You’re aware this makes you look suspicious?”
“I can live with that.”
The doors closed. The car began its descent, jerking once as it picked up speed.
“So,” she said, keeping her eyes on the number panel above us. “What’s so urgent it couldn’t wait for literally any other time?”
“I’m visiting Shawn.”
Her expression changed. A sudden pause, then recalibration. She turned fully toward me. “How is he?”
“Banged up, but patched together,” I said. “He’ll live to see another game, and that’s the point. Also, he’s not mad at me for being a total dick.”
“The bigger point,” she said, and there was something careful in her voice now. “I know how much that’s been weighing on you.”
I nodded. The truth of it sat heavy and real between us.
“He asked me to smuggle him some Skittles, and I was on my way to commit the felony when a hot nurse in scrubs distracted me.”
Her eyes met mine.
The elevator seemed smaller all at once. Her gaze held, steady and assessing, then softened into something I couldn’t ignore. The storm outside rattled the building, wind forcing rain against concrete, a reminder of everything in motion beyond these walls.
She looked away first. “Your friend isn’t supposed to be eating Skittles right now. And second of all, I’m not—”
The lights cut out and Nicole gasped, grabbing hold of my arm.
The elevator lurched, dropping a fraction before grinding to a stop that threw me off balance. I caught myself against the wall, heart jumping into my throat. Darkness swallowed the space, thick enough that I couldn’t see my own hands.
“What the hell?” My words echoed back to me in the gloom.
A few seconds passed, but the car stayed still. Then a small emergency light flickered on near the ceiling, casting a dull, amber glow over the metal walls and the floor between us.
Nicole exhaled and pressed her palm to the control panel as if she were feeling for a pulse. “Okay. This is fine. Everything’s fine. We’ll just press the emergency button and they’ll come get us.”
I stepped forward and started jabbing all the buttons. Door open. Emergency call. None of them lit up under my fingers the way they were supposed to. Nothing happened.
“Unless you’re made of backup battery and jolts of power are shooting out of your fingertips,” she said, “nothing’s going to happen.”
I tried one more time out of sheer stubbornness, then let my hand drop. “Isn’t this place supposed to have emergency power or something? A generator? It’s a hospital.”
She gave me a look that carried the weight of a double shift and a storm that wasn’t letting up.
“Yes. Emergency power for the patients and the machines needed to keep them alive. Not for a couple of idiots who thought it was a good idea to take an elevator during one of the biggest storms of the season.”
I slid down until I was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, knees bent. The metal was cool through my clothes. The amber light buzzed faintly overhead, annoying with the way it kept flickering every few seconds. As though it were laughing at me and my distress.
“I don’t appreciate you calling me names,” I said. “My life is literally hanging in the balance.”
She snorted despite herself, then checked her watch, thumb hovering over the face as if staring hard enough might bend time back into cooperation.
I looked at her standing there in scrubs that had seen better hours, hair escaping its tie, eyes tired but alert. The vending machine, the Skittles, the easy relief I’d been carrying from Shawn’s room all felt far away now.
Not just because we were stuck in an elevator with no power during a storm that had shut half the city down, but because I was trapped in a metal box with the one person I hadn’t stopped thinking about since the night I walked off a stage and realized I wanted her more than the rules telling me not to.
“If the button didn’t light up, that means nobody knows we’re in here,” I said. “That means we’re stuck in this death trap until someone realizes we’re stuck in this death trap.”
“Please— Don’t blow all your optimism all at once.”