He meets my gaze, his eyes hazy and swimming, and for a second I think he’s not really hearing me. That maybe he’s awake but not fully conscious. But then a smile slowly spreads across his face, and I feel something inside me crack with relief. He squeezes my hand back weakly.

“I am now.”

His voice is rough but unmistakably his, and those three simple words flood my system with relief. I choke back a sob and bring his hand to my mouth to press my lips against it, kissing him like I might never get the chance to do it again. Tears stream down my face as I press my forehead to our joined hands.

“I was so scared,” I whisper against his skin. “When I saw you go down like that⁠—”

“Hannah?”

The deep voice behind me slices through the air like a blade of ice.

I freeze, my shoulders tensing. I know that voice as well as my own. Slowly, I lift my head, but I don’t let go of Declan’s hand. I can’t. Not now.

When I finally turn, the sight of my father standing in the doorway knocks the air from my lungs. His face is unreadable, a mask of careful control that I recognize from his worst losses. But his eyes… his eyes are darting between my tear-streaked face and my fingers intertwined with Declan’s.

40. Declan

Chapter 40

Declan

My vision is fuzzy, and words sound like they’re being spoken underwater through cotton stuffed in my ears, but as I look from Hannah to Coach Dunaway standing in the doorway, it’s crystal clear to me what’s going on.

Coach knows. There’s no undoing or hiding it now.

But Hannah doesn’t seem to care, and that’s good, because I don’t either. Her eyes snap back to mine, and she brings my hand to her mouth to kiss it again, almost like she’s daring her dad to say something. The medical staff intervene though, prying my hand out of hers and telling her something I can’t quite make out about how they need to take me to the hospital.

“I’ll be okay,” I mumble to her, the words slurring like I’ve had a fifth of whiskey.

Even I’m not totally sure how true that is, but it seems to reassure her a bit, because she lets me go and steps back. One of the medics moves between us and puts a hand on her shoulder.

“We need to check him for a concussion and do a few CT scans, but we think he’s going to be okay,” the medic tells her, just loudly enough that I can hear it too. I can’t see Hannah’s face, so I don’t know if that does anything to bring her more comfort, but I breathe a sigh of relief myself.