Chapter 38
Vivian
The crowd gasps, the noise loud and sharp, and in the chaos of it all I watch as Miles is thrown off the bull. His body flings through the air like a ragdoll before hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Everything around me fades as my heart stops, my breath hitching painfully in my chest.
Riley’s little hands fly up to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror, and my dad quickly wraps his arms around her to keep her from seeing much more. John and Maria look sickly pale, frozen in disbelief, their eyes glued to the action in the arena.
Greg is already sprinting down toward the arena, his face full of panic, but I can’t move.
I can’t breathe. I’m standing there, rooted to the spot, my mind reeling as I watch people swarm around Miles.
Medical staff rush in, rolling stretchers onto the field, and the sight of it all turns everything to a blur.
I feel a crushing weight in my chest—guilt, fear, confusion.
Have I lost him too?
The thought claws at me, and I can’t breathe through it.
I can’t lose him. Not like this. I can’t do it again.
Suddenly, everything is moving in slow motion. I hear the pitch of the crowd, the distant murmur of voices, and then Riley’s voice cuts through the noise.
“Mommy, come back!” she shouts, her cry piercing through the fog in my brain.
I quickly turn around and kiss her head. “He’ll be okay, sweetie,” I reassure her before rushing through the stands.
I don’t stop. I don’t hesitate. I push through the crowd, ignoring the shouts of people trying to hold me back. I’m already running, my feet carrying me toward the chaos, toward him.
“Vivian!” someone calls after me, but I don’t care.
I reach the front of the arena, my heart pounding, my body shaking with panic. A blond man steps in front of me, blocking my path as they roll Miles onto a stretcher.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says, his voice calm but strained, like he’s trying to calm me down, but it only makes everything worse.
I look past him, at Miles’s still body, and my stomach drops.
“I need to go with him,” I shout, the words coming out broken, a sob catching in my throat.
The man looks at me with soft eyes, but his hand gently grips my arm. “Vivian, calm down. You’re shaking.”
“Do not tell me to calm down! He’s not moving!” I snap, my voice raw, tears streaming down my face.
He exhales sharply, his hand moving to his hips in frustration. “Okay, come with me. I’ll drive you to the hospital. That’s where they’re going.”
“I’ll go myself. I don’t know you,” I mutter, trying to turn away, but he grabs my arm gently, stopping me in my tracks.
“I’m Cameron,” he says, his tone firm but kind. “I’m Miles’s friend and coach. I know who you are because he’s told me all about you. I’m not letting you drive like this, okay?”
Something in the way he speaks calms me—there’s something reliable about him.
I nod, wiped out by the tension in my chest, and follow him as he leads me to his car.
We spot the ambulance pulling away from the arena, and Cameron pulls open the car door for me, his movements swift but controlled.
I pull out my phone, hands trembling. My dad’s calling and I answer without thinking.
“Bean, where are you?” My dad’s voice crack with worry and I can hear the fear in his words.
“I’m okay,” I whisper through my tears, trying to steady my breath. “Miles’s friend is taking me to the hospital. What’s wrong?”
“Riley is crying…she’s scared…she’s asking if Miles will…” He trails off, panic rising in his voice.
My heart aches for her. For both of us. “Put her on the phone,” I say, wiping my cheeks with my sleeve.
Cameron glances at me, his eyes soft but his attention on the road.
Some rustling noises and then Riley’s voice fills my ears, breaking me in two.
“Honey, listen to me.” I sniffle, fighting back more tears. “Miles will be okay. I promise you.”
She sobs on the other end. “He’s really hurt, Mommy. I’m scared.”
The weight of her words hits me hard, and my chest tightens with guilt. I grab my hair and tighten my grip.
“I know, sweet pea. I know,” I whisper, closing my eyes and trying to find the right words. “We won’t lose him. I need to go now, okay? But I love you. Always.”
“I love you more,” she says, her voice small and broken before my dad’s voice fills the line.
“Vivian…update me later, please,” he asks, and I can hear the desperation in his voice.
“I will,” I say, my voice shaky as I hang up, my hands still trembling.
I look up and notice Cameron’s car. It’s a little messy inside, cluttered with baby toys, a car seat, and clothes, a hint at the kind of life he has outside of this moment, something soft and real. It’s the kind of thing I didn’t expect to see, but somehow it comforts me, grounding me in the chaos.
“Sorry about the mess,” Cameron says, glancing at me sheepishly. “Barely have time for myself these days.”
I manage a weak smile. “Don’t worry about it,” I whisper, focusing on the road ahead.
But inside, all I can think about is Miles—his face, the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand. I hope to god he’s okay, that he doesn’t slip through my fingers like everything else I’ve lost.
I pray to myself, silently, desperately, in the midst of the chaos.
Please, I beg to the universe, to whatever higher power might be listening. Let Miles be okay.
The words feel hollow in my throat, like I’m speaking into a void. My heart feels like it’s being squeezed, tighter and tighter with each passing second. I close my eyes for a brief moment, trying to steady my breath, trying to control the panic rising in my chest, but it’s a losing battle.
Please…don’t take him too.
I can’t help the flash of guilt that hits me like a freight train. It’s my fault, isn’t it? I’ve pushed him away; I’ve shut him out. I’ve made it clear that I’m not ready—ready for anything, for this…for us.
But what if this is it? What if this is the final blow? What if the universe is finally telling me that I can’t have the life I want, that every time I let myself feel something, someone gets hurt?
The thought is suffocating.
I swallow hard, my stomach in knots, my heart thumping so loudly in my ears that it drowns out everything else. I can’t do this again. I can’t. I can’t watch someone I love slip away, not after everything I’ve already lost.
I look at Cameron, his face calm but his hands gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, and I feel a deep, raw panic settle over me.
I’m not ready.
The car moves, the world outside the windows blurring as we drive through the night, and I can’t shake the image of Miles lying motionless on the ground, his body so still, so vulnerable. The fear in my chest claws at me, relentless.
He can’t be gone. He can’t.
I clutch the seat, gripping it so tightly that my fingers ache, praying to whoever can hear me. Please…let him live. Let me fix this. Please don’t take him from me.
I blink away the tears, knowing full well that it’s not just about tonight. It’s not just about this moment. It’s everything. It’s the fear of never getting the chance to tell him how much I care, to show him that I’m ready, to finally give myself over to him, flaws and all.
But now…now I’m left with nothing but these prayers. These words that might not be enough.
The silence between Cameron and me feels deafening, the weight of everything I’m too afraid to admit pressing down on me like a heavy weight.
About twenty minutes later, we park outside the hospital, and I bolt out of the car, my heart racing in my chest, panic swirling like a storm inside me.
Paparazzi swarm outside, their cameras flashing like a thousand bright eyes, their voices calling out questions I can’t bear to answer. I ignore them, pushing past the crowd, my heart racing, not stopping until I’m inside the hospital.
My hands shake as I approach the front desk, my breath shallow and uneven. I try to steady myself, but my body betrays me, each breath more frantic than the last. This can’t be happening. I need to see him.
“Miles Sanchez.” The words come out shaky, desperate.
The receptionist looks up at me, too calm for my liking, and asks the question I’m too dazed to answer. “Relation?”
I stand there, frozen for a moment, the words lodged in my throat. What am I even supposed to say? I glance at Cameron, and he speaks before I can gather myself.
“She’s with me, I’m his coach,” he says, his voice steady but his eyes betraying the same worry I feel.
The woman nods, her expression hard to read. “He’s currently undergoing surgery, but if you wait here, the doctor will update you soon.”
Surgery?
I feel the ground slip from beneath me. “What—” I begin but I’m cut off by a voice behind us.
“Excuse me, are you here for Miles Sanchez?” A man in his mid-forties with glasses and a crisp white coat steps up, looking at us both with a knowing seriousness in his eyes.
“Yes,” I manage to choke out, and Cameron nods beside me.
“I’m Dr. Carter. Please, come with me,” he says, leading us down a stark hallway.
My mind is spinning, the image of Miles flying off that bull and landing with sickening force replaying in my head. I still see him, motionless on the ground, blood trickling from his temple, the way he didn’t move. I can’t breathe properly, my chest tight with panic.
“How is he?” I manage to ask, voice trembling.
Dr. Carter doesn’t answer right away, leading us to his office. He gestures to the chairs, but I barely notice. All I can think about is Miles, lying there.
As the doctor sits down across from us, he eyes me for a moment, his expression unreadable, then speaks.
“Here.” He hands me a tissue, his voice softer now. “I know this is hard, but he’s stable.”
I take it, my hands unsteady, wiping at the tears I didn’t even realize had started again.
Cameron’s voice breaks through the thick air. “How bad is it, Doc?”