Chapter 50
Kade
Ipress a soft kiss to Liv’s temple, careful not to wake her as she sleeps soundly, her breathing slow and even. She shifts slightly but doesn’t wake, and for a second, I just stand there, taking her in. It’s getting harder to leave her.
But Glen Woods won’t wait, and if I don’t get ahead of this mess, the day’s going to spiral fast.
“See you later, baby,” I whisper against her hair before stepping back, grabbing my keys, and easing the bedroom door shut behind me.
By the time I’m behind the wheel, it’s just after eight. The morning air is still cool, the streets quiet as the town slowly wakes up. I roll the window down, letting the breeze hit my face, but it doesn’t do much to shake the heaviness sitting low in my chest.
When I pull up to the site, I kill the engine and climb out, heading straight for the break room. Trent’s already there, pouring two coffees.
“You ready for the shitshow today’s gonna be?” He asks, sliding one of the mugs toward me.
I take it with a nod, wrapping my hands around the warmth.
“After everything you told me last night, I’m ready to hear him out, figure out what his problem actually is.
But if we can’t come to an understanding, I’m pulling the plug.
I’m not letting you or the guys keep working under these conditions. ”
The weight of it presses heavier on my shoulders than I expected.
I barely slept last night; after leaving The Rig, I called Brandon and filled him in on how impossible Glen Woods is making this job.
The man’s been disrespecting the crew, micromanaging every decision, and showing up on site after being told repeatedly it’s not safe.
Sure, with every project we keep communication open, set up meetings, and update the client regularly—but this? This is something else entirely. And Brandon agreed.
“His issue right now is the roof,” Trent says, downing the rest of his coffee. “He’s been going on about having you check if it’s up to standard. If you let him know you’re here, I’ll meet you up on the scaffolding and we can check it together. Then we’ll come down and deal with him as a team.”
I nod, finishing my own coffee in two long gulps. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”
I head across the site toward the camper Glen Woods has been using, every step sinking heavier with the weight of how badly this morning could go. I knock sharply on the door, glancing around as I wait.
No answer.
I knock again, harder this time. “Mr. Woods?” I call, my voice tight, controlled. But still, nothing. The camper is silent.
A sharp shout cuts through the morning air, loud and panicked.
My stomach drops. Unable to place where the sound is coming from.
I spin around just in time to see it, the scaffolding giving way in a violent, splintering collapse. Metal shrieks as the structure twists and falls, and for a split second all I can focus on is Trent—still on it.
“Trent!” I roar, my legs already moving before my brain can catch up.
The sound of the crash is deafening. Wood and metal, it all blurs as I sprint, heart pounding, dread surging through every vein.
“No! No, no, no!” The words tear from my throat as adrenaline burns through my veins.
I hit the debris on my knees, hands already grabbing, yanking twisted metal and splintered wood. Other guys swarm in—shouts flying as panic thickens the air.
“Trent! Talk to me!” I bellow, my voice hoarse, desperate to hear anything to tell me he’s alive.
A raw, gut-wrenching scream echoes from underneath, jagged and agonized. It cuts through me like a blade.
“Get this shit off him!” I roar, shoving at the beam with everything I’ve got as we tear at the wreckage like animals—grunting, hauling, lungs burning—until at last I see him.
He’s crumpled on the ground, half-pinned, his skin the color of paper, face twisted in pain. His breaths are fast, shallow, broken. Blood streaks his cheek, his whole body trembling like he’s freezing from the inside out.
“Jesus Christ—”I exhale, my heart hammering in my chest. “Trent—hey—look at me. Stay with me.”
A strangled sound tears from his throat as I hover, terrified to make it worse. His eyes lock on mine—wild, glassy, begging.
“Kade—” His voice fractures, barely a whisper. “My leg—fuck—I can’t—”
“Somebody call a fucking ambulance!” I shout over my shoulder, not daring to look away from him. “Now!”
I freeze, useless, my breath caught in my chest. His leg lies at an angle no leg should, twisted and wrong in a way that makes my stomach lurch.
Trent’s face contorts in agony, sweat slicking his brow as a ragged gasp escapes him. His eyes flutter, struggling to stay open, glassy with pain and fear.
“Is it bad?” His voice trembles, barely audible.
Before I can answer, his fingers claw into the dirt, his body convulsing as another wave of agony tears through him.
All I can do is stay crouched at his side, keep my voice steady, keep him anchored—hold him here—until help arrives.
I’ve never felt this helpless in my life, watching him fight through the pain like this.
Then the sharp wail of sirens slices through the chaos, urgent and close. I finally exhale the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding as the ambulance screeches onto the site.
Paramedics leap out, moving fast and precise. I step back, swallowing the lump in my throat to give them room. Trent’s still groaning, pain and terror etched deep across his pale face.
They crouch at his side, checking his vitals, murmuring instructions I can’t catch. One steadies Trent’s leg while the other unpacks splints and straps, moving with a calm efficiency that only makes the panic in my chest spike harder.
Trent screams as they secure him, the sound ragged and desperate — like it’s been ripped straight from my own chest. I clutch the back of my neck, useless, watching as they hoist him onto the stretcher.
The medics move fast, shouting to each other, but all I hear is that cry echoing in my head. I run alongside them, heart hammering.
“I’ll be right behind you, okay?”
His eyes lock onto mine — wide, glazed with pain and fear — just before they shut the ambulance doors. I spin around to face the rest of the crew—most of them still standing in stunned silence, some shaken, some visibly pale.
“That’s it,” I bark, loud enough to snap them back to attention. “We’re done for today. Everyone go home. Now.”
No one argues. They scatter without a word, filing out past the wreckage, quiet and shaken. I yank my phone from my pocket, thumb already dialing as I pace in tight circles.
“Come on, come on,” I mutter under my breath, pacing faster until Brandon picks up.
“Kade?”
“Elson General. Now,” I snap. “It’s Trent. The scaffolding collapsed under him. He’s hurt bad.”
“Jesus—” Brandon’s voice catches. “I’m on my way.”
I hang up without another word, shoving my phone into my pocket as I race for my truck, my heart still pounding and my stomach in knots.
I’m pacing the waiting room by the time Brandon bursts through the doors, breathless and wide-eyed. He spots me instantly and crosses the space fast.
“Where is he?” Brandon demands.
“They took him back,” I say, running a shaky hand through my hair. “They wouldn’t let me in. Said they’re stabilizing him first.” I choke back the lump swelling in my throat. “He was conscious, but—” I break off, swallowing down the wave of panic rising fast. “He was in so much pain, man.”
Brandon exhales sharply, rubbing his face like he’s trying to wipe the weight of it all off. For a long second, we just stand there, the silence heavy between us.
Then the double doors swing open, and a nurse steps out, scanning the room. “Family for Trent Gibson?”
I’m already moving before she even finishes, Brandon close behind.
“I’m Kade. His best friend,” I say, forcing the words out, trying to keep my voice steady.
“He’s stable,” the nurse says, her tone brisk but calm.
“We’ve given him pain medication, but he’s still in quite a bit of discomfort.
The doctors have reviewed his X-rays and scans to see the full extent of the injury.
Trent has a Tibia shaft fracture—it’s a break to the main bone in his lower right leg which will require surgery.
For now though, he’s awake and asking for you. ”
My chest tightens, a rush of relief crashing hard against a wall of fear.
She gives me a quick, understanding look. “Follow me. I’ll take you to see him.
Without waiting, she leads us through the doors, the hallway feeling endless as my mind races.
Seeing Trent hits me like a punch to the gut. He’s lying back in the hospital bed, propped up just enough against a wedge of pillows to keep his head elevated, but his body still tense and fragile. His face is pale, tight with pain and exhaustion, sweat beading at his hairline.
His right leg rests elevated on thick pillows, encased in a stiff splint wrapped with layers of bandage to keep it stable and protected.
The skin around it is swollen and bruised, the dark colors spreading like ink beneath the surface.
Tubes and wires snake from the monitors to his arms and chest, tracking every heartbeat, every breath.
When he sees me, he tries to push himself up, a weak, forced smile flickering on his lips. But a sharp wince flashes across his face, and he settles back down slowly, eyes closing for a brief moment.
“Hey,” he rasps, voice rough and hoarse.
“Jesus, man…” I stand at the edge of the bed, fingers curling tight around the metal rail. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Didn’t exactly plan it,” he mutters weakly, but his usual humor barely flickers. He shifts slightly and immediately sucks in a sharp breath.
“They tell you much?” I ask, trying to gauge how much he’s taking in.
“Told me my leg’s fucked.” His head falls back against the pillow, defeated.
“It’s not fucked,” Brandon says firmly, and I’m grateful he’s got the words I can’t find. “You’re gonna have surgery, and everything’s gonna be fine.”
“Fuck… what if I can’t walk again?” His voice breaks, eyes flicking away like he’s terrified to face the truth. His jaw tightens, muscles twitching as he fights to swallow down the panic rising inside him.
“That’s not gonna happen,” I say, my voice sharp, trying to push the doubt away before it takes hold.
He doesn’t look at me. Just stares up at the ceiling, silent, like he’s already gone somewhere far away.
Brandon steps forward, his hand steady on Trent’s shoulder. “You’re gonna get through this. We’re right here with you. And I’m gonna find out exactly what the hell happened with that scaffolding.”
I just stand there, heart still pounding, the image of him falling playing on a loop in my head.
I’m not sure the sick feeling in my gut will go away any time soon.
I watch Trent’s chest rise and fall, each breath a battle, and I swallow the knot tightening in my throat. Whatever comes next, we’re in it together. No matter how long it takes, we’re not giving up.