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It wasn’t hard for the police to catch the guy; he lost control of the car and crashed into a parked car a few rows over from where he hit Owen and Thalia. He was stumbling away from the car when the police showed up, yelling about a bet he lost that cost him his kid’s college fund. He recognized Owen as he was walking out, and floored it. Thalia was simply collateral damage by being next to him.

“You should sleep too. You look like shit,” Penelope says, interrupting my thoughts, and I rest my head against the wall.

“I feel like shit. It’s been a long day.”

She shakes her head, sipping her coffee. “It’s going to be a long night too. Just close your eyes for a little bit. It’ll help. I’ll stay awake in case there’s an update.”

It won’t help. Every time I close my eyes I see Owen shoving Thalia out of the way, and rolling up over the top of the car. I see how my best friend looked lying broken on the pavement as CPR was performed. I see Thalia on the ground trying to get up before she passes out, hitting her head a second time.

I don’t want to close my eyes.

“I’m fine,” I say gruffly, fighting that urge to get up and move. Blake adjusts next to me, a soft sigh echoing through the room. Owen’s going to have a difficult recovery, and if she can have a little bit of peace by sleeping, then I’m going to let her sleep as long as possible. I know I’m the lucky one in this scenario.

I don’t even want to let my mind wander to what if it were the other way around.

“None of us are fine. It doesn’t make you special if you pretend you are.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “Penelope, drop it, please.”

She levels me with a similar look. “Sebastian. You played a whole ass game earlier before all of this happened. You need rest. Thalia would agree with me if she knew you were pulling this macho shit,” Penelope continues to insist.

“I’m fine.”

“All I’m trying to say is that no one is expecting you to be fine, other than you.” Her eyes are scanning over my face, and I’m not quite sure what she’s thinking. I don’t think I even know what I’m thinking.

I lose track of time staring at the wall, trying to think about anything other than today when the Lewis’s arrive, fear and worry clear on their faces. I shift Blake gently to lay her back against the wall, but it’s no use. Her eyes flash open, and she rubs her hand over her face. “Is it Owen? Is he okay?” she asks immediately, her voice thick with sleep.

“No, he’s still in surgery. Their parents are here.”

“Surgery? Owen’s in surgery, and you didn’t tell us that when you called? What the hell, Sebastian? Where is Thalia?” Monica demands, and I stand up, feeling an ache in my body from sitting too long.

“You were driving, and we didn’t know anything yet. There wasn’t anything to tell you at that time.”

Their dad sighs, looking at Blake for answers as she tears up again. “What happened?” he asks, being the calmer voice of reason at the moment.

Blake opens her mouth, but covers it with her hand, shaking her head.

I clear my throat as my stomach twists, and somehow, I manage to keep myself from throwing up as I fill them in.

Tears well up in Monica’s eyes as she covers her mouth in horror. “Oh my god.”

That’s all there really is to say.

There’s a knock at the door, and a doctor slips into the room. “You must be the parents?” he asks and I hold my breath.

“How are they?”

“I’m one of Owen’s surgeons. I came to give you an update on his injuries while the team finishes closing him up to transfer him to the ICU,” he explains slowly. “Upon arrival, Owen was in an extremely unstable condition that required emergency surgery. He had numerous broken ribs, one of which punctured a lung causing a pneumothorax. We believe this is one of the contributing factors as to why he coded on the scene. We inserted a chest tube before focusing on the internal bleeding as a neurosurgeon helped to relieve the pressure in his skull. Once we were able to get the internal injuries under control, we were able to take a look at stabilizing the leg. Like I told Mr. Walker earlier, his meniscus and LCL were badly damaged. The ACL and MCL were torn almost completely. Our hope is to give his body the opportunity to rest before going back in tomorrow without putting the bone at risk for further damage. One ofthe things we’ll be monitoring is cognitive function, but unfortunately there’s no way to be certain of how long his brain was without oxygen, or the effects it will have until he’s awake. We’re keeping him sedated and in a medically induced coma to help his brain and body recover faster.”

Blake is silent as Mr. Lewis asks the question we’ve been avoiding. “Football? Will he play again?”

I turn my head away as I listen carefully. “Owen has a long recovery ahead of him. Unfortunately, with the injuries sustained in the accident, his body won’t be able to tolerate the physical demands of the sport.”

The silence in the room is deafening.

Another question is asked, but I can’t be in here right now. Walking past the surgeon, I head straight to the nurses’ station, my head threatening to spiral out of control.

“I need to see Thalia Lewis. Can you please tell me what room she’s in?” I ask quietly, despite knowing the chances are slim, but Ineedto see her. They said I wouldn’t be able to until morning, but I have to try.

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