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Chapter Thirty

T he rehab center smells eerily similar to a hospital lobby, like antiseptic and old coffee. I check in at the front desk and make my way down the long hallway. As I'm walking, I notice Evan's name on one of the plates outside of the room. I pause for a moment, then gently push the door open.

I haven't seen Evan since he was in the hospital when he squeezed my hand and started to wake up. Unfortunately, seeing him now, I'm not sure he ever did fully wake.

He’s seated upright, head tilted back against the bed, eyes closed. Even when I step fully inside the room, he doesn't move.

From what I've heard, he's still in a catatonic state. He hasn't spoken, or even moved much at all. When he's awake, he just stares blankly ahead.

"Hey," I say softly, stepping closer. "It's Avery. I’m sorry I haven’t been here to see you. Things have been…sort of chaotic."

I look around, noticing the flowers on the table beside him.

They're wilted and gray at the edges, like they’ve been there for weeks and no one had the heart to throw them away.

There’s no color in the room, no sound except the low hum of the fluorescent light on the ceiling.

It's almost like time forgot about this place—forgot about Evan.

"I should’ve come sooner," I add, guilt tightening my chest. "I just didn’t know what to say."

The door opens behind me with a creak, and I turn to see Evan's brother. He's leaner than I remember, with a jaw that looks like it's used to being clenched.

He gives me a once-over and says flatly, "Didn’t expect to see you."

"Yeah. I…just wanted to stop by."

"It’s been, what, over a month now?"

"I know. Life’s been?—"

"Busy," he finishes for me. "Must be nice."

My eyebrows shoot up, taken aback. "I didn’t come here to compare."

He shrugs, then glances at Evan. "Some of us don’t get the luxury of disappearing."

There’s a beat of silence before he adds, "I heard about Callan. Car crash, right?" His tone darkens. "Not exactly sorry after the shit he pulled. Karma’s a bitch."

I knew Liam never liked Callan, or any of the Ice Lords, for that matter. Rumor has it he tried out for the team, didn’t make the cut, and he’s been bitter ever since. I’m sure he’s even more pissed now that the video has gone viral of the guys pushing Evan around in the parking lot.

My spine straightens, heat rising to my cheeks. "You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about."

Liam scoffs. "Don’t I? Looked like justice to me. That video’s all over the internet now. You think people aren’t watching? Detectives are working overtime because of it. Trust me, it’s only a matter of time before all your little Lords fall."

I clench my jaw, the words digging deep, even though I know they’re only half-right and fueled by hurt and anger.

"You can believe whatever you want," I say, keeping my tone low. "But don’t pretend you know the whole story just because you only saw a few seconds of footage. Evan played a part in that, too."

Liam folds his arms, eyes narrowing. "I know what I saw, and I know Evan wouldn’t be like this if it weren’t for them."

I look back at Evan. He's still in the same position, still hauntingly quiet.

"I should go," I whisper, stepping back.

"Yeah," Liam mutters. "Probably for the best."

Without thinking, I go over to Evan's bed and squeeze his hand, just once. Just to say goodbye. He was good to me once, even if things didn’t work out between us. He deserves dignity and compassion, and I want to give that to him because I know he would do the same for me.

Liam huffs as if me touching Evan annoys him, but I take my time, looking at his face and remembering the boy who made me smile when I didn’t think that was possible.

He was someone who helped me forget about my life outside of school for just a little bit, and for that, I'm forever grateful to him.

With a final breath, I leave the room, and the walk feels longer than it actually is. By the time I reach Callan's door, my heart’s still racing. When I push it open, I see that he's up. Actually up .

He's moving across the room with a walker, each step slow but steady. He looks so damn sexy right now—shirtless with his tattoos on display and his wicked scars worn like battle wounds. He's wearing just a pair of gym shorts. As I'm drinking him in, his eyes meet mine and he grins.

"Look who’s mobile." I smile through the tightness in my throat.

"Shocking, I know," he teases. "Still can’t do backflips, though."

"Progress," I tell him, chuckling under my breath because there is no way he could do backflips before.

He moves to a small loveseat near the window and lowers himself down, patting the space beside him. I sit, and our knees brush just enough to make my heart stutter.

"How’ve you been?" he asks.

I shrug, forcing a lightness I don’t feel. I could tell him about my run-in with Liam, but there's no sense in bringing down the vibe. Callan seems happy and I want to keep it that way.

"Pretty busy," I tell him. "I competed in an archery tournament last weekend and took second."

"That’s amazing."

"Not really. It would’ve been better if I took first, but I guess I can't complain." I wave a hand. "Doesn’t matter. I’ll win in the spring."

There’s a beat of silence before Callan says, "Crazy shit last weekend, huh? Not every day a dead body drops at your own benefit."

"Crazy is an understatement," I scoff. "I still can't believe someone killed Julian."

"Heard it was an arrow straight through the heart."

My gut twists, eyes downcast as I fidget with a loose string on my crossbody purse. "So messed up."

What I don’t say is that it was likely my arrow. That right now, the guys are playing in a game they were threatened not to, and there’s a van outside with people ready to attack if anyone so much as blinks at me wrong.

"At least Julian's blood isn't on my hands like I thought it was," Callan says, throwing me off.

My head snaps up. "Wait. You remember?"

His lips press into a thin line, like he’s already regretting saying it. It’s clear he doesn’t remember telling me before.

Before I continue, I tuck the necklace I'm wearing under my collar to hide the camera. Then, I turn slightly, reach under my shirt and pluck the mic, squeezing it tightly in my hand.

Drake and the guys have no business hearing this conversation.

"You told me about him once," I say, hoping to jog his memory." You said the Lords wanted you to..." I drop my voice to a whisper, "finish him off, but you couldn’t do it. Do you remember that?"

Callan’s face darkens as the memory claws its way forward. "I remember the act, but I don't remember telling you."

"You said you cut out his tongue," I whisper even lower.

"I did do that." His tongue clicks on the roof of his mouth, eyes searching me. "We must’ve really been close."

A faint smile touches my lips. "You have no idea. But hopefully you will, eventually."

We sit there talking, and before I know it, two hours have passed. At some point, I slipped off to the bathroom just long enough to whisper into the mic that I’m fine and going dark for a bit. The last thing I need is Drake storming in and making a scene.

Honestly, it’s surreal how much being with Callan feels like old times. Our conversations are so effortless and comfortable, like nothing ever broke between us.

Callan tells me he’s been having little memories of being with me and that after I kissed him last week, he knew he had to explore whatever it was we had.

Since those words left his mouth, my heart hasn’t stopped fluttering.

Callan leans back, an eyebrow arched. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I reply, the flutter in my chest still lingering.

"Why are you so concerned about me while you’re fucking my best friend in my bed?"

My jaw drops, stunned into silence as heat floods my cheeks. "Callan. I…"

His voice stays eerily even. "It’s not an accusation, Avery. I’m not mad. I don’t really have a right to be." He shrugs. "I don’t even remember what we had, but I saw what you have with him."

My lips part, breath caught. "Saw what?"

He shrugs, casual as ever like we're discussing the weather. "There’s a camera in my room. I set it up after the incident with Julian. I actually forgot all about it until I logged into the feed a couple nights ago, hoping something in my room might trigger a memory."

Tears sting the corners of my eyes, shame and panic flooding my chest. "I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know."

He nods once, still frustratingly composed.

"I believe you, and like I said, I’m not mad.

Just confused." He glances down at his hands, then back at me. "Truthfully? I’m a little jealous. Because even though I can’t remember us, watching you this last week has reminded me that there was something real there.

But now I'm left wondering if this means you’re moving on and leaving whatever we were behind? "

"No." The word flies out before I can think. "God, Callan, no. I don’t know what’s going on with Sebastian. I really don’t. It just…happened. And I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this to be messy, or to hurt you. I just…I didn’t know what to do with all the pain."

"I gotta say, If there was any guy to step in for me while I was away, I’d want it to be Sebastian. But," he adds, "I need to know where that leaves us."

Silence stretches between us as I struggle to find the words I know I need to say.

"I watched you cry yourself to sleep, Avery. I saw you hugging my pillow, pacing the floor like your whole world was falling apart. I might not remember everything, but I feel how much you care about me."

His fingers reach out and brush down my arm and all of the guilt comes flooding in like a torrent.

I cover my face with both hands, the tears finally spilling. "I never stopped," I whisper. "Not for a single second."

Callan rests his hand over mine. "Hey," he says softly. "Don't cry. We'll figure this out."