Chapter 77 One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Chapter 77 One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
Marcus’s POV

If anyone had told me a year ago that I’d be standing in a half-decorated gym after hours, surrounded by fairy lights, poster boards, and a frankly embarrassing number of rose petals, I would’ve laughed at them straight out of the rink.
Yet here I was.
“For the record,” Damian said, crouched on a ladder and squinting at the banner stretched across the bleachers, “I still think this is excessive.”
Peter snorted from where he was taping the last poster to the wall. “Excessive? This man used calligraphy, D. Calligraphy. He Googled fonts.”
I shot them both a glare. “It’s one banner.”
Damian climbed down, hopping lightly to the floor. “It’s seventeen candles, three heart-shaped cutouts, a playlist called Anna, Please Say Yes, and—” he gestured broadly “—a trail of rose petals that could make Cupid blush.”
“High school dance,” Peter added. “Not a proposal at Versailles.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the grin pulling at my mouth. “You’re both just bitter because I beat you both to the punch. Now you both have to figure out your own ideas. And D, Courtney will kick your ass if you don't make a big deal out of this.”
“Ouch,” Damian said, clutching his chest. “He’s mushy and violent now.”

Peter tilted his head, studying me with narrowed eyes. “You’re smiling again. You know that, right?”
I froze. “Am not.”
“You totally are,” Damian said. “It’s creepy. Like you’ve been body-snatched by a Hallmark movie.”
I shook my head, stepping back to look at everything one more time. The lights were warm, soft. The banner—Anna, will you go to the Spring Formal with me?—hung just right. Simple, but thoughtful. Exactly what she deserved.
Anna.
Just thinking her name made my chest feel tight in the best way. After everything we’d been through lately—my father, McKay Enterprises, the constant tension that felt like it followed us everywhere—I wanted this night to be light. Easy. Just us being teenagers for once.
“Okay,” I said, exhaling. “I think we’re done.”
Damian crossed his arms. “You’re sure you don’t want to add, I don’t know, fireworks?”
Peter snapped his fingers. “Ice sculpture. Of her face.”
I laughed. “You’re idiots.”
They bowed dramatically.

I took a step forward—and that’s when it hit.
A sharp, white-hot pain exploded through my knee, so sudden and violent that my breath left me in a strangled gasp. It felt like someone had driven a spike straight through the joint and twisted.
“Ah—” I barely got the sound out before my leg buckled beneath me.
The world tilted.
“Marcus!” Damian shouted.
I tried to catch myself, but my knee screamed in protest, refusing to hold any weight. I collapsed hard, palms hitting the floor as pain shot up my leg and into my spine.
“Don’t move,” Peter said, already at my side.
I laughed weakly, though it came out more like a groan. “Little late for that.”
The pain was wrong. Deep. Relentless. Like something inside my knee had finally snapped.
Damian knelt on my other side, his joking expression gone, replaced with something sharp and scared. “Hey. Hey, look at me. What happened?”
“I—I don’t know,” I said through clenched teeth. “It just… hit.”
I tried to shift, to straighten my leg even a little, but agony flared so bright my vision sparkled.
“Nope,” Peter said quickly, hands hovering near my shoulders. “Don’t do that.”

My heart started pounding, too fast, too loud. Each beat seemed to echo the pain, amplifying it.
“This isn’t funny anymore,” Damian muttered, already pulling out his phone. “I’m calling your doctor.”
“No,” I said automatically. “Don’t—”
Another wave of pain crashed over me, stealing the rest of the words. My stomach churned, nausea rising fast.
“Marcus,” Peter said, his voice closer now. “Talk to me. Scale of one to ten.”
“Eleven,” I gasped.
Damian swore under his breath. “Okay. Okay, we’ve got you. We’re here.”
They tried to help me sit up, but the moment they shifted me, my knee flared again, a blinding, tearing sensation that made stars burst behind my eyes.
“Stop—stop!” I cried out, gripping Damian’s sleeve.
They froze instantly.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said, panic creeping into his voice. “We won’t move you.”
The gym lights suddenly felt too bright. The room swam, edges blurring like wet paint.
This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when everything was finally—when Anna and I were finally okay.
Anna.
“I need to—” I swallowed hard. “I need to text Anna.”
Peter grabbed my phone from my pocket, unlocking it with muscle memory. “Tell me what to say.”
My fingers were shaking too badly to type anyway. “Just… tell her something came up.”
Damian looked up sharply. “Marcus.”
“I don’t want her worried,” I insisted. “Not yet.”
Another surge of pain ripped through me, and this time my body reacted before my mind could. My breath hitched, shallow and fast. The floor felt impossibly cold beneath me.
“Mase,” Damian said, his voice suddenly distant, like it was coming from the end of a tunnel. “Hey. Stay with us.”
“I am,” I lied.

But the gym was spinning now. The fairy lights above blurred into streaks of gold. My ears rang, a high-pitched whine drowning out everything else. Something warm trickled down my temple. Sweat, maybe. Or something worse.
“I don’t feel so good,” I whispered.
Peter’s hand gripped my shoulder. “Okay. That’s okay. Just breathe. In through your nose.”
I tried. My lungs refused to cooperate.
Images flickered through my mind—Anna laughing, her eyes crinkling at the corners. The way she looked at me like I was more than my last game, more than my father’s name. The banner we’d just finished hanging.
Was this what losing felt like? Not a dramatic moment on the ice, but this quiet, terrifying helplessness?
“Marcus,” Damian said, louder now. “Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.”
I hadn’t realized they were closing.
“I’m here,” I murmured, though my voice sounded like it belonged to someone else.
The pain peaked, one final, overwhelming wave, and then—
Nothing.
No lights. No gym. No pain.
Just darkness, swallowing me whole.