Page 73 of Caden & Theo

And even then… even then, I don’t know how I’ll face him. What I’ll say.

How I’ll ever stop blaming myself.

There’s a beat of silence that stretches like pulled skin. My dad clears his throat gently, and I can tell it’s taking everything in him to keep it together. “The police are here, Theo,” he says carefully. “They’d like to speak to you. Just a statement.”

I blink at him. “Now?”

He nods. “They’ve been waiting a while, but your doctors asked them to give you some time.”

I nod absently, my throat dry and thick with guilt. “Okay.”

“We’ll stay with you,” he says quickly, and I feel my mom’s fingers lace through mine again.

I turn to her. “Do they know?” My voice is rough. “Caden’s coach—his team. Do they know?”

My dad leaves quietly to get the officer. My mom shifts to sit closer to me, brushing a hand over my hair like she did when I was a kid too feverish to sleep.

“Yes,” she says. “They were notified not long after the accident. I think his coach is flying out this morning with his agent. They’ll be at the hospital soon.”

Her voice tightens just a little. “They’ve been calling constantly. Checking on him. On you.”

I nod again, my eyes blurring. The Detroit Devils. I still can’t believe he made it there, even after everything. And now… now he’s lying in an ICU bed, missing part of his leg.

He wasn’t a starter, not yet. He was working his way in, part of a two-way contract—half in the league, half in the G League—but making waves. Getting minutes. Gaining traction. His coach said he was a grinder, someone who could get under the skin of bigger players and force turnovers. He was fast, explosive, smart.

Now? Now it’s all over. At least professionally. And that’s if—if—he makes it through recovery. No one has said as much, but until I see him for myself, I can’t believe otherwise.

Some teams would offer support, I know. Medical care. Counseling. A chance to transition into another role. But I also know that contracts don’t mean guarantees. Especially not for undrafted players. It’s all too easy for someone like Caden to be quietly let go.

He’s not just injured.

He’s vulnerable.

He’s broken in a way that could define the rest of his life.

And I?—

I was behind the wheel.

My stomach turns again. I was driving.

My arm curls tighter around my middle, cradling the pain in my ribs like I deserve it.

There’s a knock on the doorframe, and I look up to see a man in uniform step in, followed by my dad. The officer is tall, maybe mid-forties, with dark eyes and a kind, professional face. He holds a notepad in one hand but doesn’t open it right away.

“Theodore Brooks?”

I nod, my throat thick. “Theo.”

He glances toward my parents. “It’s up to you if you want them to stay.”

“They can stay,” I say, and I clear my throat. “It’s okay.”

He steps closer, pulling over a chair. “I’m Officer Keller. I understand you’ve just had surgery. This won’t take long. I’m just looking to clarify a few details about last night’s accident.”

I nod, suddenly lightheaded. “Okay.”

He gives me a small, reassuring smile. “Take your time answering.”