This is Jaxon.
This is the boy who was my home when I had nothing.
The boy who held me together when I was breaking.
The boy I pushed away because I was too scared to accept that I love him.
Now, I might not get the chance to tell him.
Because Jaxon Montgomery is still lying motionless on that field, and I have never been more terrified in my entire life.
Hospitals smell like antiseptic and bad memories.
The bright fluorescent lights buzz overhead, the hum of distant voices blending with the beeping machines behind closed doors. The air feels thick, heavy with anxiety and the weight of the unknown.
I sit in the waiting room, arms wrapped tightly around myself, my leg bouncing erratically as I stare at the closed double doors leading back to the emergency wing.
It’s been over an hour since they rushed Jaxon off the field. He was strapped onto a stretcher, an oxygen mask covering his face. I heard the trainers talking too fast, using words likeloss of consciousnessandpossible concussion protocol.
I still feel cold, like the blood in my veins hasn’t started moving again since I watched him collapse.
The door swings open, and I jerk my head up so fast, my vision tilts.
Mr. Montgomery steps out, exhaustion etched in every line of his face, but his expression is calm. When his eyes land on me, I know before he even says a word.
Still, I hold my breath as he walks toward me, stopping just a few feet away.
"He’s okay," he says gently, and my lungs finally unlock.
I exhale shakily, nodding, my hands still tight around my arms. "He is?"
Mr. Montgomery gives a tired smile. "Yeah. He’s starting to wake up now. He’s banged up pretty good, but nothing permanent. CT scan was clear, no internal damage. They’re keeping him overnight for observation, but he’s going to be just fine."
I nod again, blinking rapidly as I stare down at my lap.
I can’t cry right now. I won’t.
I feel him watching me, like he’s waiting for me to say something, but I don’t know what to say.
Finally, after a beat of silence, he speaks again. "You should go see him."
My stomach drops. I knew that was coming, and yet, I’m still not ready for it.
I shake my head quickly, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my hoodie. "I—I can’t. We’re not exactly on good terms right now."
Mr. Montgomery watches me for a long moment, then lowers himself into the chair next to me. His movements are slow, thoughtful, like he’s measuring his words.
"What happened?" he asks gently.
I let out a breath, my chest aching. How do I even explain this?
That I let my own fears ruin everything? That I ran when I should have stayed? That I let my pain consume me and pushed away the only person who’s ever truly seen me?
I shake my head, swallowing hard. "It’s…complicated."
He exhales through his nose, nodding slightly. "Love usually is."
My throat tightens, and I stare straight ahead, focusing on a stain in the linoleum, the words echoing in my head.
