Chapter 52
Kade
For the briefest moment, when my eyes crack open, I let myself believe none of it happened. That the scaffolding didn’t collapse. That Trent isn’t lying in a hospital bed after surgery on his leg.
But it doesn’t last. The memories flood in fast and sharp—the sound of him screaming, the chaos all around. The way his eyes locked with mine when we pulled him free, pure terror written across his face.
It guts me all over again.
I sit up slowly, elbows on my knees, head in my hands as the weight of it crashes down.
Beside me, Liv stirs, her fingers brushing softly across my back. “Kade,” she whispers, her voice thick with sleep, the sound of it tugging at something in me.
“I just need some air,” I insist roughly, already pushing up from the bed. “Go back to sleep.”
I don’t look at her. I can’t. If I do, she’ll see it—all of it. The guilt. The fear. The weight of how damn helpless I feel.
And right now, I need to hold it together. For Trent. For everyone.
Even if I’m barely holding on at all.
I swipe my phone off the nightstand and head downstairs, the floors cold under my feet as I make my way to the kitchen. The house is still, shadows soft in the low light as I lean against the counter and open my phone.
A few messages sit waiting. The guys from the site checking in for updates. My parents asking about visiting hours. Aubrey letting me know she stayed at the hospital last night.
I pause on hers, the image of her from yesterday flashing through my mind—how wrecked she looked when I found her in the hospital lobby, her face streaked with tears. Seeing her fall apart nearly broke me all over again. She’s known Trent her whole life. Hell, we all have.
I shake it off, thumb swiping through the screen until I land on an email from Brandon—addressed to everyone. He’s called for the day off. Says yesterday shook the team too much to pretend things are normal.
He’s right. Nothing about this feels normal.
But there’s one person I expected to hear from who hasn’t said a damn word—Glen Woods. The whole fucking reason Trent was up on that scaffolding in the first place.
I haven’t heard a thing from him. He never came out of his camper after the accident. Hell, I’m not even sure he was ever there to begin with. And that alone has my gut twisted, something sharp and wrong gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.
He demanded I meet him. Pushed for me to be there. And now? Nothing.
It doesn’t sit right. Not one bit.
The thought barely settles before a hand brushes my arm, and I jump, my heart kicking hard in my chest.
“Sorry,” Liv whispers, her voice soft, apologetic. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I blow out a breath, dragging a hand through my hair. “No, it’s okay. I just… I didn’t hear you, that’s all.”
She gives me this small, worried look, like she sees right through me, even when I’m doing everything I can to not let anything show.
“Kade,” she says softly, reaching for my hand, “talk to me.”
“I’m good, Liv,” I lie, the words sharp in my throat. “I just—I need to get a shower. I’m picking up Brandon, we’re heading back to the hospital.”
I push off the counter, the movement abrupt, and I see the flicker of hurt cross her face. She doesn’t call me on it, though. She just gives a small nod, her eyes heavy with things she doesn’t say.
“Did you want me to come with you?” she offers gently, her voice barely above a whisper. There’s a quiet plea there; she wants me to let her in. But I can’t. Not right now.
I shake my head, forcing a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “It’s okay. Stay here. I’ll give you a call later, alright?”
She nods again, but it’s slower this time. Sadder.
I lean down, press my lips to her cheek—quick, fleeting—and then I’m gone, heading upstairs, putting space between us because if I don’t, I’m afraid I’ll fall apart.
By the time I pick up Brandon and we make it to Elson General, the weight in my chest hasn’t eased. If anything, it’s heavier. The car ride was mostly quiet, neither of us speaking.
The moment we step through the hospital doors, the sterile smell and the low hum of machines hit me like a punch. I hate this place. I hate what it means for Trent.
We take the elevator up to the surgical floor, and the nurse at the desk directs us to his room. It’s too bright when we walk in, too still.
Trent lies flat on his back, his right leg resting slightly raised with clean dressings taped neatly over the fresh incisions.
The swelling makes his skin look tight and tender, but at least everything is finally stable.
Tubes and monitors surround him, their steady beeps filling the quiet room.
His face is pale and drawn, a faint grimace flickering even in sleep—pain still threading through his rest after surgery.
I shift my weight, trying not to make a sound, and turn my attention to Aubrey, curled up in the chair beside Trent’s bed, fast asleep. Her hair’s messy, and her face is softer in rest, but the worry hasn’t left her features. I step closer, careful not to wake her too abruptly.
“Strawb,” I say gently, my hand resting lightly on her shoulder.
Her eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep. She blinks at me, then glances between me, Brandon, and Trent, her expression sharpening as she fully wakes.
“Shit,” she mutters, rubbing at her eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“You didn’t have to stay all night,” I say softly, keeping my voice low.
She shrugs, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “I didn’t want him waking up from surgery alone,” she murmurs. “I guess I just ended up crashing out.”
I glance toward the monitors, then back at her. “Have the doctors been by yet?”
She runs a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face. “Not yet. When they brought him in after surgery the nurse said everything went well and that the doctor would be back with an update once he’s more awake.”
I nod. “Okay. Good.” I pause, then nod toward the door. “You should go home, get some rest. Me and Brandon have got it from here.”
She shakes her head, “No. I’ll stay.”
Before I can say anything else, a low, gravelly voice cuts through the quiet.
“Jesus,” Trent mutters, his eyes still closed. “You guys wanna keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep here.”
We all freeze, then turn toward him in unison.
I just shake my head, a wave of relief rolling through me. “Good to know the anesthesia didn’t mess with your attitude.”
Trent huffs a laugh, eyes cracking open. He scans the room, then his gaze settles on Aubrey. His voice softens. “Thanks for staying.”
She nods, almost too quickly. “Of course,” she says, barely above a whisper.
There’s a pause, then Trent shifts his attention to me as I step closer to the bed.
“How’s the pain?” I ask.
He exhales slowly. “Fucking hurts,” he mutters. “But if the doc says I’ll be walking normal when it’s all healed, I’ll deal.”
“Strawb said the doctor will be coming round later to give you an update.” I say quickly, trying to give him some reassurance that he’ll have answer soon.
Trent nods, running his hands through his hair with a groan. “Hopefully sooner rather than later. I’m desperate for a shower—still got yesterday’s grime stuck in my hair.”
“I’m sure there are some pretty nurses around here who’d be happy to give you a bed bath,” I say with a half-smirk, trying to lighten the mood, even though, like everyone else, I feel anything but light.
“Really?” Aubrey mutters, the scowl on her face saying more than her words. Before she can say anything else, Trent cuts in. “I’ll pass on that one. Just want to see the doc and get the fuck out of here.”
“It won’t be long,” Brandon says, “and then we can make that happen.” Trent nods, letting his head fall back against the pillow.
I grab the two other chairs in the room and pull them closer to Trent’s bed, positioning them next to Aubrey’s and both Brandon and I settle in.
For a while, the four of us trade jokes and easy conversation, clinging to whatever scraps of normal we can find. But it doesn’t take long before the exhaustion on Trent’s face becomes impossible to miss—the deep lines of pain carved into his features.
When the nurse steps in to give him more pain relief, the room falls quiet as she works.
And in those moments of silence I can’t shake the thought—after a fall like that, with scaffolding crashing down on him—how fucking lucky Trent is.
He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s still here. Still fighting.
And for now, that’s all that matters.