My knees feel weak, so I sink in to one of the chairs. “I don’t even understand what happened. One minute he was fine and the next…what if…” I don’t finish the statement. I can’t think about what ifs. My mom sits beside me, and Charlene’s on my other side. Sunny and Lily are huddled together across the room.

“So all he did was make a noise? He didn’t open his eyes? Not even for a second? Did the ambulance attendants say anything?” I throw too many questions at Sunny, grasping for anything positive to hold on to in this nightmare of a situation.

Sunny rubs her forehead. “It was just the noise. Um, they think maybe he has a broken collarbone and possibly a dislocated shoulder. He could have a compressed spine? They’re worried about fractures. And trauma to the brain. They said something about that.”

None of what she says makes me feel any better. “But he was wearing a helmet. His brain should be fine. He should be fine. He has to be fine.” The words spill out in stilted streams as I try to reassure myself.

“He’s had injuries before.” That’s all Sunny says, because what else can she tell me?

I nod. The words are all stuck, and I can’t seem to speak any more. I look down at my hands. They’re still shaking. I straighten my engagement ring, my super-ostentatious, giant diamond gleaming in the horrible fluorescent lights. It’s exactly the kind of ring I expected from Alex: excessive and beautiful and so much more than I deserve. I won’t allow myself to consider what it means if he’s not okay.

Twenty-five minutes later, which seems like a million years in hospital waiting time, Buck shows up in our little waiting room followed by Randy, Darren, Lance, and the coach. Their giant frames fill the room, their deep, male voices low as they ask the same questions I have.

Sunny practically falls into Buck’s arms, her sobs shaking them both. He folds her into his lap and strokes her hair, all soft and sweet—so different from the stepbrother I knew less than a year ago. Randy goes to Lily, crouching in front of her, skimming her cheeks with his fingertips. Lily’s like family. Alex is her brother even though they’re not related, so she’s almost as upset as Sunny, but she’s handling things a lot better than me.

I’m surprised when Darren doesn’t automatically go to Charlene. Instead he comes to me. I stand. My mouth is dry, my palms are sweaty, and when he hugs me, I almost fall apart all over again. He isn’t the person I need right now, but it’s better than watching all the people I love care for each other, reminding me what’s at stake.

When he lets me go, Lance steps up beside him. His face is bruised, and his lip is bloody. He has a fly bandage holding a split in his eyebrow together. I glance down to where his thumbs are hooked into the pockets of his jeans. His knuckles are wrapped, but blood seeps through them, red spreading unevenly across the white.

“Have you seen a doctor? You should see a doctor.”

His half-smile is distorted by the swelling on the right side of his face. “Aye, I’ll be fine. It’s just surface wounds.”

In this moment I hear clearly the accent that’s hidden most of the time.

I raise a trembling hand to his face. His eyes flare, but he doesn’t move away when I press my palm to his cheek. “Thank you for fucking up Cockburn.”

“It was worth the five-game suspension.”

A laugh bubbles up in me, but it breaks free as a hysterical sob. Lance—the hardest of these boys, the one I know the least about, but who’s clearly loyal beyond comprehension—pulls me into a hug.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” I mumble into his hard chest.

“He’s tough. He’ll make it out of this.”

I’m just concerned about the condition he’ll be in when he comes out the other side.

-&-

It feels like we wait forever for news. Sidney has disappeared twice to check in with a nurse. Ten minutes after he returns with no news, Darren gets up and leaves the room. I look at Charlene.

“He’ll get answers,” she assures me.

I don’t see how he’ll be able to make things happen when Sidney hasn’t, but the anxiety of nothingness is the worst torture.

A nervous nurse none of us has seen before appears in the doorway with Darren behind her soon after. She looks over her shoulder, and he smiles. Now, Darren is a nice-looking guy. His features are angular, almost severe, but when he smiles, everything softens and he’s stunning.

The nurse turns back to us and we wait. “Alex is responding—”

I’m out of my chair before she can finish her sentence. “He’s awake? Can I see him? I need to see him.”

She puts her hand up, her smile patient and practiced. I want to punch her sweet face.

“He’s awake, but the doctors need to finish setting his shoulder. As soon as they’re done, someone will be out to see you.”

“Is his shoulder broken? Is he okay?”

“The doctor will have the results of his X-rays and his CT scan shortly.”

I hate the non-answers almost as much as I hate the waiting. Darren stops her before she can walk away and murmurs something. Instead of heading back toward the emergency entrance, she takes off in the other direction.

“She’s getting a doctor now,” he says softly. But then that’s the only way Darren ever speaks. Softly. He’s deliberate with his words. He’s usually more of an observer. I don’t know why I’m noticing this, or why it matters.