Page 45 of Time After Time (Golden Sands #1)

The pain was overwhelming, every throb sending another wave of nausea and panic crashing through me while the boat was still rocking violently, the storm now in full force. Rain pelted down, the wind howling around us, and the waves still slamming against the hull with terrifying force.

Behind me, Robert was scrambling, his voice tight with panic as he called for help. “We need to get him to shore—NOW!”

The world blurred, everything spinning as I lay there, gasping for air.

My arm. My dominant arm. The arm I need for everything.

What if I couldn’t use it again? What if it didn’t heal right? The thought sliced through me like a knife, cutting deeper than the physical pain. Everything I had worked for, everything I had dreamed of… fuck, it was slipping away, just like the control I thought I had over this.

The storm continued raging around us, but all I could hear was the pounding of my heart, the fear choking me as I laid there, helpless, my future unravelling before my eyes.

And when the world came back? It did so slowly, in pieces. The sharp beeping of machines. The sterile smell of antiseptic. My arm—no, my whole body—felt heavy, like it was sinking into the mattress beneath me. A hard mattress by that.

I tried to move, but the pain came back in waves, sharp and hot, radiating from my right arm.

I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my mind, but it was hard to focus.

My mouth was dry, and my thoughts felt like they were slogging through molasses.

I knew where I was, though. A hospital. The antiseptic smell, the beeping, the hum of activity beyond the closed door…

You didn’t have to be too familiar with it to be able to detect it.

I didn’t remember much after the fall. Just pain—intense, bone-deep pain—and the rocking of the boat beneath me as everything spun out of control.

After that, it was a blur. I wasn’t sure how much it took to go back to the coast or anything else.

Just the flashing lights of the ambulance, the icy, sterile touch of latex gloves, the hurried voices speaking over my head like I wasn’t even there.

And then darkness.

Now, the pain was still there, but it was muted thanks to whatever drugs they had pumping through my veins. I glanced down at my arm, and my stomach turned. A cast. It was in a cast. Thick and white. Immobilised.

A knock at the door pulled me out of my daze. I barely registered it before the door opened and my mum stepped inside, followed closely by Robert. Their faces were tense, their eyes flicking immediately to my arm.

My mum didn’t hesitate, running towards me and calling me her baby while her fingers threaded through my hair.

She tried not to glance down at my arm, but I watched her closely, and every few seconds, her gaze would drop.

She’d swallow hard, her eyes glistening, then blink rapidly before meeting my eyes and forcing a smile, as if trying to convince both of us that everything would be okay.

But I wasn’t convinced. And neither was she.

“Seb,” Robert spoke up. He did better. His eyes didn’t glance down even though I could see the internal fight to keep himself from doing that.

I tried to sit up, but my body protested, and Robert rushed forward to help, placing a hand on my shoulder to steady me. “Easy. Don’t push it.” He sounded so gentle… so like I was a puppy on the side of the road who had been thrown there by some assholes.

For a second, I was grateful for the help, but then reality crashed back, harder than the waves that had knocked me down.

My arm . My right arm. The one I use to bake, to cook. The one I needed for everything.

I swallowed hard, and my throat tightened. Everything I had worked for—it was all hanging by a thread now.

“How bad is it?” I finally managed to ask, my voice rough from disuse.

My mum and Robert exchanged a look, the kind of look people give each other when they didn’t want to tell you something. When they were trying to figure out how to soften the blow.

“You fractured your humerus—mid-shaft, they called it. It was a bad break, Seb. You’re going to need time to heal.

A lot of time.” Robert paused, rubbing a hand over his face like he was trying to find the right words while using his other hand to rub my mum’s back, when a whimper escaped her.

“They have been checking everything, making sure that there isn’t any other problem, and you have a non-displaced fracture.

The bone is broken, but the two parts are still aligned, which means there is no need for surgery, and you can heal with a functional brace.

They’ll be fitting you with it to keep it stable while it heals.

” He sighed. “The doctors said… You might not regain full mobility in your arm.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs. Not full mobility? My mind raced, imagining all the ways this could go wrong. How I might not be able to hold a whisk, or knead dough, or even chop fruits without pain or stiffness.

“How much will I get back?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“They said around seventy to eighty per cent,” my mum answered, her voice cracking as she did her best to blink off those tears that were making her eyes glisten. “But with physical therapy, you might regain more. It’s… It’s going to be a long road.”

I closed my eyes, the world spinning around me again. Seventy per cent . That’s all. Even if I do everything right— therapy, exercises, whatever else they throw at me—I’ll still never be at a hundred per cent. Never the way I was before.

The hole in my chest grew, and I was dumb enough to try to bring my hand to my chest. My right arm. I felt like I was drowning. Not in water, but in my own fear and frustration. This was supposed to be it. The year I started my dream. The year everything fell into place.

“I…” I swallowed, feeling like an asshole, but every fibre of my body was convincing me to get up from this bed and trash the place. To scream. To blame someone. To blame something. “I need to be alone, please.”

Robert and Mum exchanged a glance, communicating without words, before each of them placed a kiss on my temple and quietly left the room.

They left my phone close by, the screen illuminating with a message from Reth.

Shit . The pain in my arm seemed to extend to my heart.

Weren’t the painkillers working anymore?

I didn’t know how much time had gone by, but it was dark outside when I heard the knock on the door.

Visiting hours had ended a while ago, and I had already resigned myself to spending a long night of silence in this place, machines beeping in the background as the pain kept me company.

My mum had gone home earlier after sitting with me all day, once I had calmed down enough for them to be in the room, and Robert and Michael were likely still dealing with the boat and the police reports.

Another knock. This time, it was quieter, more hesitant, like someone who was unsure if they should even be here.

I glanced toward the door, already half-expecting a nurse coming in for another check-up, to be drugged again so I could endure the pain, but then it swung open, and she was standing there.

Gen.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

She was soaked. Her jacket was wet from the rain, and her hair a mess from whatever storm she must’ve pushed through to get here.

But none of that mattered. All I could focus on was her face, her eyes wide with worry and exhaustion, her lips pressed together like she was holding back something. Fear, maybe? Or relief?

“Gen?” My voice cracked when I said her name, surprise and something else rising in my chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” she said, stepping inside and closing the door behind her quietly, like she was afraid to disturb the stillness of the room.

“I… I had to take a bunch of buses to get here. Sylvie and Aria—they’re still at the convention.

I told them to stay... but I had to come. I just... I had to see you.”

I couldn’t say anything.

My throat was tight, that damn knot back and twice as big, choking me.

She looked at me like she was expecting me to break or fall apart at any second, and I wanted to tell her it was fine.

That I was okay. That she shouldn’t have rushed here, soaking wet and exhausted, begging nurses to let her in after hours.

But I couldn’t. Because as soon as I saw her, something inside me cracked wide open.

“Cora told me everything,” Gen said softly, walking closer to the bed. “Your arm... Seb, I’m so sorry.”

I looked down at my functional brace, which I already hated more than the temporary cast I’d worn for just half an hour. At least the cast had hidden everything. The brace exposed my skin, and every time I looked at it, I wanted to tear it off.

Gen’s eyes were full of understanding, and it was too much. The dam I had been holding together, keeping it all in, trying to convince myself I would be fine, that I could handle this—it shattered the moment she sat down next to me.

“I thought... I thought I could hold it together,” I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. “But, Gen... I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I’ll ever be…”

She shook her head, grabbing my hand, her fingers warm and soft despite the rain still clinging to her clothes. “Seb, don’t say that. Don’t even think it. You’ll get through this. We’ll figure it out. But you don’t have to be okay right now.”

Her words hit me harder than I had expected. I didn’t have to be okay right now.

For hours, all I’ve heard from everyone is how I would get through it, how I would heal, how physical therapy would help me regain most of my mobility, how I would still be able to live my dream.

But no one had said this. No one had said I didn’t have to be okay right now.

And maybe it was exactly what I needed to hear.

I attempted to hold it in, to swallow down the overwhelming surge of emotions that had been sitting at the back of my throat since the accident, but it was no use. The tears came, hot and fast, and I couldn’t stop them.

I pressed my left hand over my face, ashamed of how weak I felt, of the way my body was shaking with sobs, but Gen didn’t let go.

“I’m so scared,” I whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “Gen, what if I can’t bake again? What if I’m just... broken now? What if this is it for me?”

Her grip on my hand tightened, her eyes full of fierce determination as she leaned in closer.

“Seb, you’re not broken. You’re not. This is just a setback, okay?

It’s going to be hard. I won’t lie. But you’re still you.

You’re still the same guy who got that apprenticeship because you’re talented as hell.

And this? This doesn’t take that away from you. ”

I shook my head, tears still blurring my vision. “But what if I can’t do it, Gen? What if this is too much?”

Her gaze softened, and she leaned her forehead against mine. “Then we’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone in this, Seb. You’ve got me. You’ve got your mum, Robert… everyone who cares about you. We’re all here for you.”

I let out a shaky breath, trying to absorb her words, but it was hard.

All I could see when I closed my eyes was the bakery of my dreams slipping away, the future I had dreamed of since I was a kid, crumbling in front of me.

But Gen… she was here. She wasn’t letting go.

She was holding me together when I felt like I was falling apart.

After almost an hour, the tears slowed, but I still couldn’t bring myself to pull away.

Gen sat there with me, her head resting against mine, her hand in mine, and for a long time, neither of us spoke.

I was still shaking a little, the weight of everything pressing down on me, but in this moment, it felt bearable… even if for just a bit.

When I finally pulled back, she wiped at my eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. “Sorry for barging in like that. The nurses didn’t want to let me in at first. But I begged. I told them I had to see you.”

“Gen,” I croaked, my throat raw from crying. “You... didn’t have to.”

She rolled her eyes, but I noticed the tears… for me . “Of course I did. You’d do the same for me. Sylvie and Aria didn’t want me to leave them, but I told them to stay at the convention. I knew I had to be here.”

I looked at her—really looked at her—and realised just how much she must have done to get here.

She must’ve taken three, maybe four buses just to reach the hospital.

It was already past visiting hours, and she was soaked from the rain, exhausted from the trip.

But she came anyway. Because that’s who Gen was.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice shaky but full of something close to gratitude, close to relief. “I don’t think I could’ve handled this without you.”

She squeezed my hand again, her smile growing just a little. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m your best friend, Seb. I’m always going to be here, no matter what.”

Pain. Again. The arm or me being her best friend?