Page 13

Archer

“M icah.”

He flicks a glance in my direction and then grunts before stepping onto the elevator at the hotel, intent on ignoring me. But to hell with that. This is important.

I reach the doors just in time to shove my foot through the crack, preventing them from closing.

“Motherfucker,” Micah growls, glaring daggers at me when I step on beside him. He’s the only one inside. Good. “What do you want, Archer?”

“Have you heard from Wren?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“Goddammit.” I shove my hands through my hair, exhaling a shaking breath. “I’ve been trying to call her since we got to the hotel this morning. She isn’t answering my texts, either.”

“Maybe she got tired of you.” Micah grins like the idea pleases him.

“Cut the shit, Rushing,” I snap, scowling at him. “Right now, I don’t really give a fuck if you’re pissed at me or not. Something is wrong. She wouldn’t just not answer her phone for this long. You know she wouldn’t.”

Micah’s smile slips, worry filtering through his expression. “Dammit,” he growls, fishing his phone from his pocket. He dials her number and then mutters a curse. “No service.”

I stab the button for the lobby, and the elevator jolts into motion. Neither of us says a word as it carries us down. I’m too fucking worried to talk. Wren would never ignore my calls unless something was wrong.

As soon as the elevator shudders to a stop, Micah and I step off. He immediately dials her number again. I hold my breath, praying she answers.

“Fuck,” he mutters when her phone goes straight to voicemail for him, too.

“Something is wrong.” I tug the strands of my hair, worry eating away at me. “Christ. I shouldn’t have left her. She promised she was okay after she talked to you, demanded that I go. I should have stayed anyway.”

Micah eyes me sideways. “You wanted to stay?”

“You made her cry,” I growl. “Of course I wanted to stay!”

“Shit,” he mumbles, genuine remorse filtering through his expression. There’s something else there too, but I don’t bother to read it. I don’t have the time or patience right now. This isn’t about him and our shit. It’s about his sister and the fact that she isn’t answering her phone.

I’m fucking worried, and so is he.

“Let’s head outside to meet everyone,” he says. “I’ll call Elodie, ask her to swing by and check on her.” He pauses. “I assume she’s at your place?”

“Yeah.”

Micah jerks his chin in a nod as we jog outside to wait for the van meant to take us to the presser. I drop onto a cement bench on wooden legs, my mind racing.

I’m a little surprised when Micah drops down beside me, murmuring quietly to Elodie. Judging by the looks Logan and Jordan shoot us as they file outside, they’re surprised to find us sitting together, too.

“She’s going to run by and check on her,” Micah murmurs, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Did you two argue or something before you left?”

“No,” I growl. “Everything between us was perfect.” I shoot a hard glare at him. “The only goddamn thing she’s been upset about is you acting like an overbearing asshole.”

He has the grace to look regretful. At least momentarily. And then he grits his teeth. “Wouldn’t be an overbearing asshole if you weren’t fucking my sister behind my back and lying about it to my goddamn face, Graves.”

“I never touched your sister until Vegas.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “I fucking knew something was up with the two of you when we got home and you were falling all over yourself to take her home.”

“Then why’d you let me take her?”

“Because I trusted you to keep your hands to yourself.” His lips twist. “Joke’s on me, right?”

“I kept my hands off her for a fucking year, Micah. Right up until we got m–” I break off, biting my tongue.

“Until what?” he asks.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Bullshit. What were you going to say? Right up until you got what? Don’t bitch out now.”

“Married,” I growl, staring at him. “Is that what you want to hear? That I fucking married her?”

“You’re lying,” he says, doubt written all over his face.

“No, I’m not. That’s the thing, Micah. I didn’t tell you everything, but I never fucking lied to you about her,” I say, my voice heated. “Before Vegas, I kept my mouth shut. I refused to say anything. I tried like hell to keep my distance so I didn’t feel like an asshole every time I looked at you, but I didn’t fucking lie to you.”

“You motherfucker,” he breathes half a second before he launches himself at me. We crash to the ground with him on top of me. “You fucking married her without telling me?”

“Goddammit, Micah,” I growl, trying to shove him off me.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t hit me, either. He just keeps me pinned to the ground beneath him, his hands wrapped around my suit jacket like that’s the only thing keeping him from taking a swing.

“Fuck!” Jordan shouts before him and Logan come running, trying to haul him off me.

“Micah, man. Let him up,” Logan says, prying at his hands. “If Coach sees this shit, he’ll hand both of you your asses, and you know it.”

“He’s right,” Jordan adds, hooking an arm around his waist. “Get the fuck off of him, Micah. You don’t want to go down this road.”

Micah doesn’t even budge. “You fucking married her. When, you asshole?”

I know damn well that he’s going to hit me when I answer that question. But I answer it anyway. Like I told him, I don’t lie to him. Not even when I probably should. “Vegas.”

His fist plows into my jaw with the force of a goddamn wrecking ball, snapping my head back. It hurts like a motherfucker, but I don’t retaliate. It’s not like I didn’t earn that shit. In his shoes, I’d hit me too.

“Goddammit,” Jordan growls, finally hauling him off me.

Micah tries to lunge for me again, but Logan steps between us, blocking his path. He holds out a hand to help me up. I wave him off, sitting up on my own before climbing to my feet. My fucking jaw hurts like hell.

“You married her while she was drunk in Vegas, you asshole!” Micah roars. “Did she even know what the fuck was going on?”

Logan mutters a curse. “I know damn well that I’m going to regret this shit,” he sighs to himself before glancing over his shoulder at Micah. “She wasn’t that drunk, Micah.”

“How would you know?”

“Logan,” I say quietly, trying to warn him off. He doesn’t need to get involved. This is between me and Micah.

Logan ignores me. Naturally. “Because I ran into them while they were making out in the elevator,” he says. “Wren was lucid and knew what was happening. You know I wouldn’t have just walked away and left her with him if she weren’t.”

Micah snarls a curse, pissed at both of us now.

“He’s right. I knew.”

We all turn at the sound of her voice to find her standing beside a taxi a few feet away, her arms wrapped around herself like she’s cold. I stare at her for a long moment, shocked that she’s actually standing here in front of me.

“Wren,” I rasp, rushing toward her to pull her into my arms.

She takes a step away, shaking her head at me.

“Baby?”

“You founded Helping Hands , didn’t you?”

Fuck.

“I can explain, little bird,” I murmur.

“Really? Because you had a chance, Archer,” she says. “And you didn’t say a word. I thought you’d told me everything, and then I find out that you still have secrets. Why?”

I’m not sure I have an answer, at least not one she’s willing to accept. But I can’t lie to her any more than I could lie to Micah. She deserves more than that. “Because I was fucking terrified you’d walk away if you knew how far I’d gone to keep you close,” I admit. “If you knew just how deep this obsession runs.”

She sighs softly, glancing down at the ground. “You should have told me.”

“I know.” I sigh heavily. “I meant to tell you when we got out of the shower after ice skating, but you were already asleep. I planned to tell you when I got back, before we told Micah about Vegas. It’s not an excuse, Wren. None of it is. You deserved to know before I put that ring on your finger.”

“Jesus Christ,” Micah growls, shaking Jordan off before stomping toward us. “You didn’t even tell her?”

Wren stares at her brother with wide eyes. “You knew.”

He jerks his chin in a nod. “Thought he did it as a favor to me,” he mutters. “Guess we were both fooled, weren’t we? He was just keeping you around so he could get you drunk and take advantage of you.”

“Stop it, Micah,” she snaps. “Just stop it! He didn’t take advantage of me. He hasn’t done a single thing to me that I wasn’t fully on board with. And you kept it a secret from me, too. If he should be ashamed, so should you. And fighting?” She shakes her head at both of us. “Do you really think this is what I want?”

“You married him in Vegas and kept it a secret, Wren,” Micah growls. “How the fuck was I supposed to react to that?”

“Like an adult with sense!” she cries, stomping her foot. “Did you ever, for once, stop to ask yourself why we felt like we had to hide it? It’s because of you , Micah. Because we both love you! So much so that the last year has been hell for both of us because we were trying to keep you happy. And the first time we finally decide to put ourselves first, you act like this.” A tear slips down her cheek. “What happened to the brother who told me that he wanted me to chase my own dreams? Where is that guy right now?”

His face falls, guilt stamped all over his face. “Wren…”

“No,” she cries. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve idolized you for most of my life. But this version of you sucks! I want my brother back, not whatever madman inhabited his body.”

I take a step toward her to comfort her, but she whips her head in my direction, her eyes narrowing on me. They practically scald me they’re so fucking fiery. “And you,” she growls. “You should have told me the truth. I accepted everything else. I didn’t even bat a lash because I know exactly how it feels to want someone you can’t have and go to crazy lengths just to be close. But I deserved to hear this from you instead of being ambushed by some reporter.”

“Reporter?” Micah says, his tone sharp.

“Yes, reporter.” She glowers at both of us. “Charles Montaque came to see me this morning. He knows we’re married. He knows Archer founded Helping Hands . He ambushed me, and neither of you would answer the damn phone!”

“Fuck,” Micah and I growl at the same time, sharing a glance.

“Oh, now the two of you are on the same page,” Wren huffs, throwing her hands up before she stomps away.

“Where are you going?” Micah calls after her.

“Away from the two of you!” she cries.

I start to follow her, but he throws his arm out in front of me. “Give her a minute,” he says. “She needs to calm down or she’ll say something she regrets.”

“Fuck.”

“You need to figure out what you’re going to do about Montaque anyway.”

I glance at him, surprised.

“Don’t look at me like that, motherfucker.”

“Just surprised you care.”

“I’ve always fucking cared.” He mutters a curse. “Jesus, Archer. She’s my sister. You’re my best friend. You don’t think that matters to me?”

“Doesn’t really matter what I think,” I say, nodding at Wren, who’s pacing back and forth a dozen feet away, muttering to herself. “It matters what she thinks. She needed you on her side, and you weren’t. You let her down.”

“I know,” he growls. “I fucking know, okay? I’m an asshole. I fucked up. And I have to live with that. But Jesus, Archer. This sport has been her whole life because of me. She’s always come second because what I needed came first. She grew up in the back of a van or in the stands. That’s not fucking normal. You think I wanted her to end up in a relationship with someone who would put her through the same shit she’s tolerated her whole life? She almost got herself killed once because of this goddamn sport. I can’t let that happen again.”

“You’re so sure it will,” I mutter, shaking my head as the van pulls into the entry way, blocking half of it. “But you haven’t been paying attention, Micah. You’re so convinced she had a shit childhood because of hockey, but wake up, man! Those are her favorite memories. They’ve always been her favorite memories because of you. But you’re so hell bent on blaming yourself because she was out on the ice that you don’t even hear her when she tells you that.”

He blows out a ragged breath, dragging a hand through his hair, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Eventually, you gotta let that shit go and stop treating her like you ruined her life. She was on that pond because she missed you. She missed the sport. She missed the back of your fucking van. But she isn’t that little girl anymore. Your sister knows her own mind and how to take care of herself. She’s strong and independent and fierce as hell. You need to let her be those things.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, emotion swirling through his eyes as he glances over at her. “I know.”

“She’ll never come second to me. She hasn’t since the day I met her at your wedding. I’ve done…Jesus Christ.” My heart slams against my ribcage as an SUV whips around our van.

The driver isn’t watching where he’s going. He’s too busy flinging his hands up and shouting uselessly at our driver, who can’t even fucking hear him with the idiot’s windows rolled up.

Wren has her head down, not paying attention.

She doesn’t see the SUV heading right for her.

But I do…and I’ve never been so fucking afraid in my life.

“Wren!” I shout, trying to get her attention. I’m already moving toward her, rushing as fast as I can.

She turns toward me, a question in her eyes just as the SUV slams on the brakes, trying to avoid her. It’s too goddamn late though.

It hits her, sending her flying into the back of the taxi.

“Wren!” I scream, the entire fucking world tilting beneath my feet.

No. No. Please, God, no.

“Wren!” Micah roars, racing beside me to reach her.

I fall to my knees at her side, fucking sobbing when I see that she isn’t moving. There’s a gash across her forehead. She’s pale. So fucking pale…

“Please, baby,” I beg, terrified to touch her. “Please.”

She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t move. And for the first time in my life, I know what dying feels like. It’s this. It’s Wren on the ground, my entire fucking world shattering around her.

The world learns of our marriage while I’m pacing the hospital waiting room, too fucking afraid to draw a full breath. I don’t care what they think about it. I don’t care what they have to say. All I can think about is Wren.

Micah’s slumped in a chair. Half the team is here instead of at the presser, watching us like they’re afraid we’re going to come to blows again. Or crack apart.

I feel like cracking. I think he does too.

Neither of us speaks. I don’t think we can. It’s been so fucking long since they loaded her into the back of the ambulance and pulled away. She was breathing, but she wasn’t awake.

Christ, if she doesn’t wake up…

I choke on a groan, swaying on my feet.

“You should sit,” Nash says, clamping a steadying hand on my shoulder. “Before you collapse, Archer.”

“Don’t want to sit.” I shake him off. Resume pacing.

“Archer, you need to sit,” he tries again.

“Nash, fuck off and leave him alone,” Micah rasps.

I glance over, and our eyes meet. I see the fear I feel reflected in his gaze. For the first time since I married his sister, we’re in perfect accord. We’re both in hell. And it’s our own fault.

Had I just told her the truth, she wouldn’t be here now. Had he just bent a little, she wouldn’t be here now.

We fucked up, and we failed.

It feels like knives in my veins, tearing me apart.

Her brother knows exactly how I feel. He’s been here before, praying she survived. And now, he’s right back here again. Because of me. Because of us.

Everything we were arguing about seems so goddamn trivial with her somewhere behind those doors, hurt. She needed us, and we failed her. How the hell are we supposed to live with ourselves if she isn’t okay?

I can’t. God, I can’t.

She’s been the center of my world since the day I met her. Everything I’ve done has been to keep her close, to ensure some little piece of her world involved me. If this is how it ends, I’ll never forgive myself.

“I’m sorry,” I rasp, razorblades in my throat. “Christ, Micah, I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” His hands shake. His knee bounces up and down. “It doesn’t matter anymore. She does.”

I jerk my chin in a nod. He’s right. She’s the only thing that matters.

He slumps again.

I resume pacing.

No one else says anything.

One minute ticks by. Five. Fifteen. Half an hour.

A doctor finally— finally —steps into the waiting room, his eyes scanning the room. If he’s surprised to see a waiting room full of professional hockey players dressed in suits, I can’t tell. I can’t tell by his expression if the news is good or bad, either.

Fuck. Why can’t I breathe?

Micah is on his feet in an instant, crossing to my side.

“You’re all here for Wren Graves?” the doctor asks.

“I’m her brother,” Micah says, nodding. “He’s her husband.”

“H-how is she?” I ask, my voice shaking. I feel weak. Christ, so fucking weak. If she’s not okay, I already know I won’t be. I’m going to break and crumble into fucking pieces right here in this waiting room.

“She’s awake,” he says.

Micah chokes on an exhale, his shoulders shaking.

Nash plants his hands on my shoulders like he’s trying to keep me upright.

For a minute, all I can do is stare at the man in front of me, my mind a roar of sound. I want to fall to my knees and cry. She’s awake. Thank God. She’s awake.

“How bad is it, Doc?” Micah asks when I can’t find the words. My tongue feels cloven to the roof of my mouth.

“She’s got some cuts and bruises,” he says. “Surprisingly, nothing’s broken. Our main concern right now is the concussion. Because she was unconscious for over an hour, there are some concerns.”

Micah chokes beside me again.

The doctor’s gaze flickers around the waiting room. “You all play a professional sport. I’m sure you’re aware of the risks here. We want to keep her for a few days to make sure there aren’t any signs of major problems.”

I jerk my chin in a nod, trying to hold it together. Being unconscious that long with a concussion is never a good sign. Memory loss, seizures, and swelling on the brain are major immediate concerns, along with lingering headaches and vision problems, personality changes, brain fog… The goddamn list is endless. It’s been drilled into our heads since we were kids, picking up a stick for the first time. But it was supposed to be us at risk, not Wren. Never Wren.

“C-Can we see her?” I ask, my voice shaking.

“She can have visitors one at a time.” The doctor meets my gaze again. “She woke up asking for you, Mr. Graves. She hasn’t stopped yet. That’s a good sign.”

Micah glances at me, surprise flickering in his eyes. If it bothers him that she’s asking for me and not for him, he doesn’t say anything, though.

“If you’re ready, I’ll take you back,” the doctor says.

“Yeah. Shit, yeah,” I mutter, taking a step toward him.

“Tell her…” Micah clears his throat, looking at me, his brown eyes full of remorse behind his glasses. “Fuck, tell her that I love her, and I’m sorry.”

I jerk my chin in a nod as I follow behind the doctor on wooden legs, my heart pounding like a damn drum against my ribcage. Nurses cast furtive glances in my direction as we pass by the station in the center of the emergency room, but no one says anything to me. Or if they do, I don’t hear them.

“She’s in here,” the doctor murmurs, pausing in front of a trauma room. “I’ll give you two a few minutes, and then we need to get her upstairs to a room.”

“Thank you.”

He pats me on the back and then strides away.

I stand there for a minute, trying to breathe, before I step through the door. My fucking knees shake when I see her in the bed, wires running all over the place. The gash on her forehead is hidden behind a bandage.

She’s so damn pale and tiny in that bed.

“Wren,” I rasp, crossing to her on shaking legs.

Her eyes flutter open before she focuses on me. I’m not sure what to expect, but as soon as she sees me, tears well in her eyes.

I’m at her side in two steps, my heart in my throat. “Don’t cry, baby,” I whisper, kneeling beside the bed. “Please, don’t cry. I’m right here. Everything is okay.”

“T-They w-wouldn’t let me see you,” she whispers, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Do you remember what happened, baby?”

She hesitates for a brief moment and then nods uncertainly. “I think so? I mean, I don’t remember exactly. I walked away because I was mad, and then I heard you and Micah shouting my name.” She grimaces. “And t-then, I saw an SUV coming toward me. I woke up here. T-they said the SUV hit me.”

“Yeah, baby girl. The prick hit you.” My voice cracks and I have to swallow hard. Had he been going any faster… I can’t even think about it without feeling like my soul is being ripped from my body.

If the motherfucker hadn’t been in handcuffs by the time they loaded her in the ambulance, I’m not sure anything would have stopped me from tearing him apart. Thank God Jordan and Logan were there. While we were focused on Wren, they were dragging him from his car. He went to jail with a broken nose and a black eye. It’s less than he deserves.

“You were mad as hell at me and Micah,” I whisper. “It’s our fault.”

“Don’t, Archer.” She reaches for my hand, grimacing. “Please don’t do that. Micah already d-did it once and look at all the damage it caused. Don’t do the s-same thing now. You weren’t the one who hit me. And you didn’t force me to w-walk around in the middle of the driveway, either. It w-wasn’t your fault.”

I press my forehead to her hand, groaning. “I’m never going to get the image out of my head, Wren. Christ, I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life.”

“I’m here,” she whispers. “I’m safe. Just be here with me, okay?”

I can’t refuse her anything. Not now, not ever.

I press my lips to the back of her hand, whispering a prayer of gratitude before I pull back, meeting her gaze again.

She looks exhausted, like she hasn’t slept in days. And like she’s in so much damn pain. The bandage across her forehead and the bruise on her cheek are killing me.

“You should sleep, little bird. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not yet.” Her brows furrow. “I w-want to know why, Archer.”

Fuck.

“I couldn’t let you go, Wren,” I murmur. “Every time you talked about moving back home, I could tell how much you didn’t want to leave. So I just…found a way to make it possible for you to stay. I didn’t think you’d accept the help if you knew, so I asked Micah not to tell you. It was fucked up and wrong, but it was the only way I was allowed to take care of you when you needed it.” I swallow hard. “It was the only way I knew how to keep you from walking out of my life and finding someone Micah would approve of.”

“Archer,” she whispers, her voice soft…sad.

“I know I’m supposed to do the right thing now and say I’ll let you go if it’s what you really want, but I spent the last three hours thinking I lost you, little bird,” I rasp. “My whole goddamn world stopped spinning. It doesn’t work without you at the center of it. It just fucking doesn’t.”

She makes a choked sound, and I realize that she’s crying again. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I’m afraid to hope. But I hope anyway. I pray to any god who’ll listen that she gives me a chance to fix things.

“I’m not leaving you, you big idiot,” she cries softly, and if I weren’t already on my knees for her, that’d do it. “I love that you’re obsessed with me. I love that you’re crazy about me. I love knowing that I’m not the only one who felt this way for the last year. I love you .”

“Fuck.” I press my forehead to her hand again, drawing a shaking breath. “I love you too, Wren. So fucking much.”

She slides her hand out from beneath me, cupping the back of my head. Her fingers slide through the hair at the nape of my neck. “You can’t keep things from me, though. I shouldn’t find out your secrets from a reporter.”

“I know. I swear, I was going to tell you that night. But you were asleep, so I figured it could wait until I got home. Had I known…” I swallow hard. “I should have told you.”

“Yeah, you should have,” she says quietly, and then she sighs. “You and Micah have to work things out, Archer. I won’t have the two of you fighting because of me. That’s the one thing I never wanted.”

That’s a promise that’s easy to make. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to fix shit with Micah,” I murmur. “Anything except leave you.”

For once…I don’t think he’ll ask for that, though. I think he knows that I’m not going anywhere. Christ, after the last three hours, I think everyone knows exactly how I feel about his little sister. My heart beats for her. My world works because of her. She is my purpose. That won’t ever change.