I wait for Quinn to come out of Peyton’s room. It’s an avoidance tactic so I don’t have to speak to my father. I hate lingering, but I need some time to think things through. It’s not that I plan to tell Quinn about what my dad overheard. It’s more that I need a friend right now, and being near Elle is rather hard. As soon as he comes out we’re hugging because we’re both hurting and for the life of me I can’t remember a time when we’ve ever been like this.

Our hands are squeezing the back of each other’s necks, making sure either of us doesn’t move until the other is ready. Both of our faces are buried, away from eyes that are trying not to pry, but can’t help themselves. Quinn grew up with people always staring. I had ten years before it became an issue. I can’t really say it bothers me because look at my profession. I could’ve easily gone into business or gone to work at the mill, but I chose a career in football. In fact, none of us, with the exception of Betty Paige, has gone down the path of anonymity. Deep down, maybe we like the limelight.

When we finally part, we don’t look around to see who’s watching. We stare at each other and while this may look awkward to people around us, it’s almost as if we’re having a silent conversation. I imagine he’s feeling like his walls are closing in, and nothing makes sense right now.

“I’m about to go down to the cafeteria and see what I can scrounge up for food. Wanna come?” Quinn motions with his head toward the door. I quickly spot my father who makes eye contact with me. I should’ve never brought up Peyton’s prom night, but I thought I was doing something right by bringing up memories that are important. I thought by telling her that night meant everything to me would help her wake up.

“Yeah, I need some air.”

We bypass everyone who is in the waiting room, almost acting as if they’re not there. I’m not lying when I say I need air. I need to clear my thoughts and make sure when my dad broaches the subject of Peyton and I, I know what I’m going to say.

Downstairs, the cafeteria is quiet. It’s late and there are very few items out for us to purchase. Quinn picks up two pieces of pie and I pour us some coffee. He pays while I find us a corner to sit in.

“Thanks,” I tell him as he pushes the dessert toward me. I take a bite of the apple pie and close my eyes. It probably tastes like garbage, but right now it feels like anything but. It has to be because my emotions are a mess and it’s comfort food. Everything else, though, is no different than high school cafeteria food.

The coffee is sludge, but I drink it anyway. I need the caffeine to keep me awake and alert. The normal aches and pains that I get after a game are starting to set in, and without going through my routine of stretching and soaking in the tub, I know I’m going to pay the price in the morning. Not to mention I plan to sleep in one of those waiting room chairs. There is no way I’m leaving this hospital.

It’s been so long since Quinn and I have been able to sit and chill, I want to ask him how things are going, but under the circumstances, the question seems insensitive and completely wrong. Upstairs, the woman we love, for different reasons, is fighting for her life. This isn’t the time to play catch up.

We eat in silence, well as much as possible with the television blaring and the two older men sitting not far from us. They came in shortly after we did, and while they had the entire cafeteria to pick seats, they chose to sit close to us.

“Do you think they know who you are?” Quinn mumbles through his sentence.

I glance over at them and one of the men makes eye contact with me quickly before turning his attention to his phone. I don’t need to be a betting man to know he’s texting someone that he’s spotted me. I don’t even know why he would do that. It’s not like it’s front page news unless he thinks I’m here to meet with the Bears since Zimmerman was in an accident, but even that wouldn’t make sense since I’m sitting in a hospital cafeteria.

Nodding slightly to Quinn, I adjust the way I’m sitting so the men don’t have a clear angle of my face. Any other time, I wouldn’t care. I don’t mind signing autographs or posing for pictures, a habit that Dessie hates. She didn’t grow up with the cameras always around and doesn’t realize if you give the media what they want, they’re less likely to be dicks to you.

Quinn finishes his coffee and sets the porcelain mug down with a thud. “Elle said it was only going to be a matter of time before someone alerted social media that the band was here.”

“I’m sure someone already has. It’s big news.”

“Dad says they’re going to hold a press conference in the morning.”

“Why then?” I ask, picking up my mug and finishing off the black tar. I’m going to need more, but am tempted to call for delivery. I don’t think I can stomach this shit.

Quinn sighs and pushes the crumbs left over from his pie into his fork. “Doctor says she’s not going to make it through the night.”

“But she is.” I sit upright and lean closer to Quinn so we can keep our voices down. “You know Peyton, Quinn. She’s the most resilient one out of all of us. When she’s told she can’t do something, she proves to everyone that not only is she able, but she does it better than anyone else. If everyone would encourage her to fight instead of giving up, she’d stand a damn chance at surviving.” By the time I’m done, I’m gritting my teeth. I’m frustrated and hurt because everyone’s giving up on her. “She’s not going to die.”

I push away from the table and head for the exit. “Noah,” Quinn yells my name. I stop and realize my mistake. If the two men weren’t positive about my identity, they are now. Quinn catches up to me, putting his hand on the back of my shoulder to guide me out.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine. You’ll be back in the spotlight soon.”

Quinn doesn’t say anything as he follows me down the hall. I bypass the elevators and head toward the stairs, taking them two at a time until we’ve reached the main floor of the hospital. I’m back to needing air and quickly move toward the courtyard.

Breathing in the cold Chicago air does nothing to calm the anxiety I’m feeling right now. I’m numb all over and the heartbreak is starting to turn to anger. My hands are clenched into fists and the roar I let out comes from somewhere deep within. I finally collapse onto the bench and bend over to hide my face.

Quinn sits down next to me. “You’ve known her longer.”

“You know her better.”

“I’ve never known death,” he says. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. She’s my sister and I…”

I pull Quinn to my chest, forgetting about my feelings and hold my friend. We didn’t run in the same circles at school, but he’s always been a part of my life. The only death that is vivid in my mind is Mason’s. I remember being at his funeral. My dad standing up there in front of everyone, speaking to people that he turned his back on. He was there for Katelyn, Peyton and Elle, as they were for him. Forgiving him when others wanted him to leave town.

“Most would say we’re supposed to pray, but I don’t know if that works. I mean, my team prays before each game and we still lose.”

Quinn laughs as he pulls away from me. He hides his face, likely embarrassed that he’s crying. He shouldn’t be. I can barely keep my tears at bay and can feel another round of them coming on. I’m so angry, crying seems to be the only way to relieve the tension. Shit like this isn’t supposed to happen to us or to people like Peyton. We’re supposed to live our lives, be happy, and not worry about whether or not we’re going to survive a car crash.

“Losing her will kill my mom. I don’t think--”

“Well, why don’t we start thinking about Peyton surviving. Then we don’t have to worry about Katelyn.” I’ve seen her at her worst, and he’s right. If she loses her daughter, I think we lose her. Especially if it’s the same way we lost Mason.

“What do you say we order some takeout and feed the family? I have yet to really see my mom, and I’m sure I can convince my grandma to take Eden and Paige to a hotel. The girls really shouldn’t be here.” I stop short of finishing my sentence. My grandma and the girls would honestly be happier at a hotel for a while than hanging out in the waiting room. I’m sure everyone is tired and our emotions are starting to take over.

“You’re probably right.”

I pull out my cell phone only to realize I haven’t turned it on since I arrived in Chicago. I stare at it for a good minute before pushing the button. Once it’s through the startup cycle, messages come flooding in. Most are from Dessie, but a few are from Allen Lowe, my agent/manager, asking me how everything is.

“This may take a bit. Can we use your phone?” I hold my phone up and shake it as if this is supposed to alert him to what’s going on. He looks at me strangely and rightly so.

“Pizza?”

I nod and turn my attention back to my notifications. The number of text messages increases, along with the voicemails. I’m starting to think that something is wrong until I open Dessie’s texts and see that she’s being overly excessive with wanting to know what I’m doing and why I’m not responding to her. Scrolling through her messages, they’re whiny and coming off as self-centered. Demanding that I call her back immediately or else. Yet, there is not one mention of Peyton. Nothing asking me how she’s doing or how I’m doing.

I’d like to know what she’s going to do if I don’t call her back. I can’t even stomach reading through the barrage of messages nor do I want to talk to her right now. Powering it off, I slip my phone back into my pocket and try to forget what I saw. I’m used to former girlfriends being jealous of Peyton, but with Dessie, I have really tried to put her first. I love her, but it’s different from the way I feel about Peyton. It’s hard to explain. I would give anything to show Peyton how I feel about her and prove to our families that we should be together, but she rebuffed me the day after prom. I thought our friendship was over, that I screwed up beyond repair. I paced the floor of my bedroom waiting for her to call me before I had to fly back to Portland. When she finally did, the words were on the tip of my tongue, me telling her how I feel yet she reminded me about Chicago and how she was so excited to start school. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. But this side of Dessie is something I’ve never seen before and I’m not sure I like it.

Quinn gets the food ordered while I try to calm down. Part of me wants to call her and ask what her problem is, but the other half doesn’t really care right now because my best friend is fighting for her life and Dessie should know it’s more important that I be there for Peyton. I’m grateful I never turned my phone on otherwise, I likely would’ve busted in half by now.

I look up and watch as snowflakes start to fall and stick my tongue out to try and catch them. Quinn does the same and before I know it, we’re laughing, our faces are wet and I’m not sure we’ve caught anything.

“I hate the snow.”

“Me too. It doesn’t snow in California,” Quinn points out the obvious. It’s funny, I never thought Quinn would go back there, but it makes sense. It’s where he’s from and only moved to Beaumont because his dad fell in love.

“Portland sometimes gets snow.”

“Do you like it there?”

I shrug. “I do. It’s a great city, but it’s not home.”

“Do you miss Indiana?”

This time I laugh and shake my head. “No, not at all. School, yes, but not the weather.”

Quinn looks down at his phone. “The food should be here in a few minutes.” Thanks to technology we can now time when our delivery will show up. No more ‘old fashioned’ waiting by the window for headlights to appear.

The delivery driver arrives just as we step out into the front of the hospital. Thankfully, we seem to have lost the two men from downstairs, at least for the time being. When we get back to the ICU, we ignore the glared looks from the staff as we step into the waiting room where food is clearly not allowed.

“Eat up,” Quinn says, depositing his armload onto the small table. I use one of the vacant chairs, and as soon as my arms are free, my mom pulls me into an embrace. She doesn’t say anything as I wrap my arms around her. I hold her tightly, knowing that she’s drudging up memories of years gone by.

“I’ve missed you.” She holds my face between her hands and smiles, except it’s forced.

“Season is almost over and then I’ll be home.” There’s a small glint of happiness in her eyes. My mom kisses me on the cheek before being shoved out of the way so Paige can jump into my arms.

“Hey, Little B.” She’s far from little, but will always seem that way to me. “There’s a cheese pizza over there with your name on it.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Of course you are.” I take her over to where the make-shift dining room table has formed and set her down. Elle hands her a paper plate with a slice of plain pizza on it. Honestly, I’m surprised Elle is functioning right now. I don’t know if I would be if the tables were turned.

The waiting room is small. We’re crammed in here like sardines, but everyone feels miles away. “Where’s Grandma?” I ask Paige.

“She went to make some calls about getting a suite. Daddy is with her.”

I hadn’t noticed that my father wasn’t around, but am sort of thankful that he’s not glaring at me right now. Eden sits down next to me and sighs. I can’t imagine she likes being here much either.

“You can probably go with Bianca when she takes Paige to the hotel.”

“My mum already said I should. Do you think Peyton would be mad?”

“Not at all, Eden. She’ll understand.”

Paige and Eden continue to pick at their food, while I stare at mine. I thought I was hungry, but now that I have a pile of slices stacked onto my plate, my stomach is telling me otherwise.

As I look around, everyone is here except for Harrison. My mom and Jenna are huddled by Katelyn, and Jimmy is on the phone, likely handling band business or possibly setting up the press conference.

“I’m looking for Mr. and Mrs. James.”

The voice comes from one of the three police officers standing at the end of the waiting area.

“It’s Powell-James,” Katelyn says, correcting the officer in regards to her last name. “Is this about my daughter?”

“Yes, ma’am. We have the information you and your husband requested.” This time she doesn’t correct him regarding her marital status, although I think by law they’re considered married. I never understood, but always respected why she and Harrison never got married.

Harrison comes around the corner in time to hear what the policeman said. He extends his hand and shakes each one of theirs. “You have news about the accident?”

“Yes, would you like to go someplace and discuss?”

“No, we’re all family,” Harrison says.

“Very well. We’ve spoken with Mr. Zimmerman. He states that he met your daughter earlier before his game and asked her to dinner, which is why she was in his car.”

“She had a date,” Katelyn cries out, covering her mouth before burying her face into Harrison’s chest.

“Zimmerman?” I say out loud. All eyes turn on me, but I’m focused on the police officer. “Son of a bitch,” I say as I stand abruptly, causing my pizza to go flying. “Is that bastard in the hospital now?”