Page 97 of Hyperspeed
Two hours in the hospital and thirty-six stitches later, the team shuttle dropped me off at home.
Zylo, Tavoris, and Kileen had been in touch, but all I could muster was a cursory, “I’m fine, stop worrying.” Anything else was too much energy, and I was desperate to crawl into bed.
Kai had reached out while I was waiting for the doctor to sign off on my discharge.
Annoying Prick
Are you okay?
I saw the footage, and it looked fucking rough. You were bleeding a lot . . .
No one will give me an update, and I’m going out of my mind.
Zylo said they took you to the fucking hospital. Did you hit your head? Is your leg okay???
Please, Rev. I need to know you’re okay.
I hated that I’d worried him, so the plan was to reply as soon as I got home.
It didn’t seem like he hated me, if his frantic messages were anything to go by. He might change his tune once he found out I was okay, but I had to push aside my confusion, my fear. The curt response reserved for everyone else wouldn’t cut it with Kai, because he deserved more than that.
He deserved more from me.
I arrived at my apartment on the fifth floor, ready for a peaceful night and a long hot shower.
So imagine my surprise when I reached my door to find it unlocked, and buzzing around my apartment like they owned the place were my Mum, Dad, and Grandma.
“Zyli!” Mum tackled me before the front door had closed. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
She stepped back and gripped my shoulders, analysing me from head to toe. Her eyes welled up when she saw my calf, where the raised leg of my sweatpants revealed a thick white bandage, speckled with blood.
“It’s fine, Mum,” I whispered, lips ticking up in a reassuring smile.
She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded all the same.
She led me from the hallway into my open-plan living and kitchen area, where Grandma was cooking up a storm. The mouthwatering smells permeated the air, and my stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since this morning. Dad lounged on the leather sofa, watching an old series ofLove Planet—his guilty pleasure.
“There’s my wounded soldier!” he bellowed, holding his big arms open.
I limped over, letting him pull me into a bear hug, before plopping down beside him. And if I tucked myself further into his side, enjoying the feel of his arms wrapped around me, that was no one’s business but my own.
Dad and I rested our feet on the coffee table, and I looked up at Mum.
“What are you doing here?”
“We saw the footage,zyli.” She plucked a microfiber cloth from the pile of cleaning supplies stacked up near the kitchen. The markings on her skin pulsed sky blue, revealing her concern. “Nina called and let us know you were okay and were at the hospital, but with the race still going, there wasn’t time to update us.”
“You know what your mum’s like,” Dad cut in with a playful wink. “She dragged us straight here, convinced you were coming home one leg short.”
“Like you weren’t concerned he had a concussion,” Mum snapped, hands on her hips.
Dad chuckled, squeezing me tighter. “Of course I was worried! How am I supposed to live the high life as the dad of a pro racer if his head’s too banged up to race?”
I nudged him in the side. “Don’t worry, Dad. No need to give up on your aspirations yet.”
“Let me look at my grandson,” Grandma demanded, rounding the kitchen island to approach us with the natural air of seniority she carried.
She perched on the sofa cushion next to me and reached out a hand, brushing the loose strands of hair away from my face. I winced when she touched the hard lump on the left side of my forehead, caused by my helmet.
