Page 19

NINETEEN

Brody

Darkness ebbed and flowed around me, a heavy fog as I fought my way back to the surface. My eyelids felt weighted down, my limbs slow and unresponsive. There was a distant beeping, a rhythmic sound that anchored me, and as I managed to blink my eyes open, the first thing I saw was Logan.

He stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed, expression unreadable, but his presence steady and unwavering. The sterile white walls of the hospital room blurred behind him. I wanted to call his name, but my throat felt thick, and my voice was nonexistent.

Then, something else—warmth. Pressure around my hand. My gaze shifted downward, and there was Noah, his fingers curled around mine, his head bowed as if he’d been waiting forever. My chest tightened, not in pain, but because I heard Noah say something, his voice a low hum against the haze in my head. I blinked again.

I’m alive. I can feel his hand. I need to tell him that.

But the words never formed, my mind slipping away before I could force them out.

I surfaced again; my body sluggish but less heavy this time. The world was still hazy, but the light in the room was different—softer, warmer. My throat ached, dry and raw, but I managed to move my lips, whispering the thought that had been locked in my head. “I’m alive.”

There was a rustling beside me, and I heard voices. Noah. Logan.

Noah’s hand squeezed mine, his voice urgent. “What did he say?”

“I don’t know,” Logan said, closer now.

I tried again. My lips formed the words, but my voice failed me. My chest felt tight, and exhaustion pulled at me. My frustration flared.

“Why isn’t he speaking?” Logan’s voice sharpened, the protective older brother in him breaking through.

There was another voice now—calm, professional. The doctor. “It’s normal. He’s still coming out of anesthesia. His body needs time.”

I wanted to tell them I was okay and that I could hear them, but the lure of unconsciousness was too strong. Noah’s thumb brushed over my knuckles, and Logan hovered close. I felt safe and grounded. The darkness crept in again, and I let it take me under.

The next time I woke, the world was less foggy, and I had more awareness. My limbs were still heavy, but I could move them, and when I tried to speak, my voice was there—hoarse, but there.

The doctor stood beside my bed, his gaze assessing as he asked me to follow a light with my eyes, to squeeze his fingers. I managed both, sluggish but responsive. My throat was dry, but I forced out words, faint but clear. “I’m alive.”

Noah was there, leaning in, his face coming into focus. “What did you say?”

I tried again. This time, my voice came a little stronger. “Alive.”

Noah exhaled a breath of relief as his fingers tightened around mine. Standing beside him, Logan ran a hand down his face before looking at the doctor. “Is he okay?”

The doctor nodded, his expression reassuring. “He’s coming around well. No signs of complications. We’ll keep monitoring, but this is exactly what we want to see.”

I wanted to sit up.

“How about we sit you up?” the doctor asked, his voice even—had I said that out loud? Before I could respond, Noah and Logan were already moving, adjusting the pillows, hands steady as they helped me move.

“It’s day two,” Noah said as he smoothed the sheet over my legs. His voice was warm. “You’re okay, Brody. Everything is okay.”

I let out a slow breath, my body exhausted, but my heart steady. Noah’s hand was still in mine, solid and sure. I believed him.

“Have you told him?” Logan’s voice broke through the quiet hum of the hospital room.

“Not yet,” Noah responded, and I wanted to know what they hadn't told me.

“Wha…” I managed.

Noah leaned in. “Hey, you.”

“Told. Me. What.”

“When you get out of here, we're staying with Logan,” Noah clarified, his tone gentle but firm. “Not going back to our place.”

I wanted to protest, to say I was fine, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure how long I’d even been in the hospital. “How long… here?”

Noah squeezed my hand. “They said another day, maybe two. Just to be sure.”

I sighed, nodding. Maybe I wasn’t quite ready to argue. Maybe, just maybe , letting them take care of me wasn’t the worst thing.

“What then?” I asked.

“What?”

“After I can leave Logan’s, where will I go?”

“Where will we go,” Noah corrected. “We'll work it out.”

“Together.”

“Of course.”

We kissed then, and I heard Logan make his excuses until it was only me and Noah in the room. He shifted beside me, his fingers still wrapped around mine. He hesitated, then squeezed my hand. “I've made that decision for us—it's where you'll be safe, and when I return to Harrisburg, you'll have people there with you.”

“Not stayin’… Logan… long.”

He smiled. “No, not for long.”

I concentrated hard. “I want to be with you.”

He kissed my nose. “And I want you.”

The door slammed open so hard it rattled against the wall, my grandfather storming in, his face twisted in fury. My security guy gripped his arm, his expression tight, ready to remove him.

“I’m his grandfather!” he barked, his voice echoing in the sterile hospital room.

I barely had the strength to lift my hand, but I managed to nod, a silent command to let him through. Still, I gestured for security to stay close. He might have forced his way in, but I wouldn’t be alone. Not completely.

He stopped at the foot of my bed, his gaze raking over me, taking in the hospital gown, the wires, the dullness in my eyes. I could see the moment realization struck, the confirmation he was looking for settling into his rigid posture. “So, it’s true,” he said, his voice thick with disappointment.

I stared at him, waiting. For what, I wasn’t sure. Some words of encouragement? Doubtful. An ounce of concern? Even less likely. But I couldn’t force words from my throat, not when my body still felt like it was recovering from being torn apart.

His lip curled, disgust in his expression. “You’re broken,” he spat. “Worthless to me. Apparently, you’re queer? Jesus. A waste of my time.”

The words should have hurt. Maybe a few months ago, they would have. But now, they didn’t touch me, sliding off like water. I’d expected nothing more from him. Still, the venom in his voice, the sheer disdain in his eyes, twisted something inside me, a final severing of whatever fragile tie had remained.

Logan’s voice was a snarl as he stepped forward, shoving between us, rigid with fury. “You are a hateful, small, pathetic excuse for a man.”

Grandfather’s eyes flicked to him, looking quite unimpressed. “I don’t give a shit what you think. You were never the one I invested in. You were never worth the time.”

Logan let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “And look where that got you. You wasted all your time, effort, and manipulation—on what? On someone you could control? Someone you could mold into the second coming of you?”

Grandfather’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. “I built this family. I gave him everything when your worthless excuse for a father messed everything up.”

“You used him,” Logan shot back. “You used all of us. You treat people like tools, like pawns in some game you think you’re winning, but guess what? You lost. You lost us all.”

The old man’s face darkened, and for a second, I thought he might lunge at Logan and spit more venom, but then he turned back to me. His expression was empty of warmth. “Well, you’re no use to me now.”

He turned on his heel and walked out, his steps sharp, measured, final.

The room was silent except for my ragged breathing. Logan vibrated with rage; his hands clenched at his sides. The tension was suffocating.

I swallowed and tried to force words past the tightness in my throat. “G-good riddance,” I stuttered, my voice hoarse and uneven.

Logan turned to me, his expression relaxing. He exhaled, running a hand down his face before sitting at my bedside. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Good fucking riddance.”

Noah came in, two coffees—one for him, one for Logan—and a lemon Jell-O Cup for me. My favorite flavor. Who knew I’d have a favorite Jell-O in the hospital?

“What did I miss?” he asked Logan, then stared at me. “Brody?”

“N-nothing ’portant.”

“Tell me.”

So, Logan told him, and I think he needed my hug as much as I needed his.

The next day, words made more sense in my head, and I must’ve been making sense to others because Noah was smiling a lot and tension had eased in Logan.

Avery had just left, and I was still smiling after she'd sat on my bed and told me a story.

“Do you want kids?” Noah asked when we were alone.

I turned my head to look at him, his expression open, vulnerable. “What do you mean?”

“The future. I mean, I've always had a plan,” Noah admitted, his voice steady. “Hockey, kids, family, marriage, a home with my partner.” He didn’t fumble over his words; he knew what he wanted. Did I know what I wanted? “But we've never talked about our forever.”

“I never thought I'd have one,” I managed to say. I'd grown up with people dying in motorsport. I had the thing in my head. I’d always imagined I'd die young. Noah's eyes brightened with emotion, and I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat. “Now… I-I have… rest of my life.”

“With me,” Noah said with a nod.

“Of course.” We exchanged smiles. “Kids?” I said.

Noah nodded without hesitation. “My sisters were adopted. I want that too. I want to create my own found family. Maybe surrogacy as well. And dogs. As many dogs as my dad has. I want a house we can fill with everything that matters. I want you.”

Emotion thickened his voice, his eyes searching mine, waiting for a response.

I exhaled slowly. I’d never thought about it. I’d never imagined a future beyond racing. It was always about the following season, the next race, the next championship. There was never room for anything else. Noah’s grip tightened.

I thought about it. Really thought about it. For the first time, I let myself picture a life that wasn’t only about speed and trophies. I imagined a house that wasn’t a sterile penthouse or a temporary place between races. I imagined a yard filled with dogs; a home filled with laughter. Kids.

I tugged on his hand, motioning for him to sit beside me on the bed. He moved without question, curling into my side, and I wrapped my arm around him, pulling him close. His warmth, his certainty—it settled something in me.

“I want… children,” I whispered. “Dogs. Big house… for family. I want you.”

Noah pressed his face against my shoulder, his arms winding around me. “Then, that's what we'll have,” he murmured. “We'll make it happen. Together.”

I kissed the top of his head, inhaling his scent. “We can have that?”

Noah lifted his head to look at me, his expression fierce and unwavering. “Yeah. We can, and I want it with you, Brody. Every single part of it.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tight, but in a way that felt full, rather than constricting. “I'm not… running… from e-everything.”

He smiled, soft and knowing. “Good. Because I’m not letting you run anymore.”

I held him closer, letting his words sink in, allowing the idea of a future to take root in my mind for the first time.

We sat like that for a while holding each other, and neither of us needed to say anything more. We already knew.

The private ambulance ride home was quiet. The hum of the tires on the pavement lulled me into a strange in-between state, where I felt awake, but not fully present. Noah sat beside me, his hand on my knee, steady and grounding. Logan rode up front, making calls and handling things I didn’t have the energy to process yet.

Noah only had one more day before returning to Harrisburg for one last practice and a home game against a Washington team.

I sat on the sofa, Avery curled up on my lap, her tiny body warm and heavy against me. She was supposed to be in bed, but I’d used my operation as leverage, claiming I wanted her to stay. Apparently, I could get away with anything for now.

The Washington game played on the TV; the arena alive with energy. Noah stood out even on the small screen, his skating fluid, his focus intense. The cameras lingered on him more than once, the commentators talking about the rookie season, his famous dads, and, of course, his new relationship—his boyfriend, who used to date Jemima Wren. I rolled my eyes at that.

Noah struck in the third period with the Railers up by a single goal—a perfect shot, clean and fast, hitting the net with a satisfying snap. The commentators erupted in excitement.

Four-two, Railers.

I tried to stay calm, but my heart pounded as the seconds ticked. When the final buzzer sounded—a win—I smiled like an idiot.

Later, with Avery finally in bed, my phone buzzed. Noah’s face filled the screen, still flushed from the game, his grin wide and breathless.

“I love you! I love you!” he exclaimed, and his teammates cheered in unison, their voices echoing behind him.

“He loves you!” they all chorused, laughing.

Then, a tall, serious-looking guy stepped into the frame. Jack O’Leary, the captain. He gave a firm nod. “Your boy did good, Brody.”

“Can you get us a date with Jemima?” someone called.

There was a chorus of groans. “Shut up, Nik!”

The Railers had two more home games—one against a strong Boston team, another against a relentless Carolina squad. The Railers lost to Boston, but took down Carolina, and while Noah didn’t score in either, he was everywhere on the ice. He was disrupting plays, controlling the tempo, and playing the kind of game that made the pundits happy. I was so damn proud. I couldn’t love him more.

And soon, he would be coming home.

I was waiting in the pool house, pacing, restless. Stan and Erik fussed. Logan fussed.

“I’m okay,” I said, exasperated. “I can do this on my own. You can all go.”

A car pulled up outside. His dads went out to greet him. Logan pulled me in for a tight hug.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he said.

I smiled. “Of course I will be.”

“Love you, little brother,” Logan murmured.

“I love you too,” I replied. Then, he was gone, and suddenly, I was alone and waiting—waiting too long!

Then, the door opened, and he was there—curls wild, eyes bright, my sexy, incredible man.

We met in the middle, arms locking, bodies pressing together. We hugged and hugged, and when that wasn’t enough, we kissed, whispering our hellos, our I-love-yous… our everything.

He was home. And that was all that mattered.