Chapter 79 Not The Proposal We Expected

Chapter 79 Not The Proposal We Expected
Marcus’s POV

The first thing I became aware of was the pain.
Not sharp like before—no white-hot spike that stole my breath—but deep and heavy, like my entire leg had been filled with wet cement. It pulsed in slow, dull waves, each one dragging me closer to consciousness whether I wanted it or not.
The second thing was the sound.
Beeping. Rhythmic. Annoyingly steady.

I tried to open my eyes. My lids felt glued shut, my body sluggish, unresponsive, like I was trapped underwater. When I finally managed it, the world swam into view in blurry fragments—white ceiling tiles, harsh fluorescent lights, a metal rail at my side.
Hospital.
The word landed with a thud in my mind.
“Oh good,” a voice said nearby, tired but relieved. “He’s waking up.”
I swallowed. My throat was dry, raw, like I’d been screaming—which, vaguely, I remembered doing.
“What… happened?” I croaked.
My voice sounded wrong. Weak. Small.
A shape leaned into my line of vision. Peter. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles carved deep beneath them.
“Easy,” he said quickly. “You’re okay. Surgery went well.”
Surgery.

The memories rushed back all at once—the gym, the lights, the banner. The pain. Damian’s voice telling me not to close my eyes.
My heart rate spiked, the monitor responding immediately with a louder, faster beep.
“Hey,” Peter said firmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Breathe. You’re safe.”
“My knee,” I said. Panic clawed up my chest. “I can’t feel—”
“You can,” he interrupted. “It’s numb and wrapped and pissed off at you, but it’s still there.”
I let out a shaky breath. “What did they do?”
Before he could answer, another figure appeared at the foot of the bed.
“Look who finally decided to join us,” Damian said, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
I tried to smirk back, but my face didn’t cooperate. “You sound… ugly.”
He snorted. “Says the guy who passed out like a Victorian child.”
Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped me. It hurt—my chest tightened, my leg throbbed—but it grounded me.
“How long?” I asked. “How long was I out?”
“Couple hours,” Damian said. “You scared the hell out of us.”

My gaze flicked between them. “Anna.”
Peter’s expression softened instantly.
“She’s here,” he said. “Been here. Wouldn’t leave.”
Relief hit me so hard it made my eyes burn.
“Can I—” I swallowed again. “Can I see her?”
Peter stood. “I’ll get the nurse.”
As he left, Damian pulled a chair closer and sat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“You gave us a real scare, man,” he said quietly. “I thought… I thought we lost you for a second there.”
I frowned. “It was just my knee.”
Damian shook his head. “It wasn’t just your knee. You collapsed. Your vitals tanked. The doctors said if you’d waited, you could’ve done permanent damage.”
The words settled heavy in my chest. Hockey had taught me to push through pain. Ignore it. Outlast it. I’d always believed my body would tell me when something was truly wrong. Apparently, it had. Loudly.

The door opened again. And then she was there. Anna.
Her hair was pulled back hastily, loose strands framing her face. Her eyes were red, puffy, like she’d been crying for hours. She froze in the doorway for half a second, like she was afraid I might disappear if she moved too fast.
Then she rushed to my side.
“Marcus,” she breathed, her hand finding mine, warm and real. “Oh my God.”
I squeezed her fingers weakly. “Hey.”
Her eyes filled instantly. “You idiot,” she whispered, voice trembling. “You scared me so much.”
“I know,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, tears spilling over. “Don’t apologize. Just—don’t do that again.”
I managed a crooked smile. “I’ll try.”

Damian cleared his throat. “I’m gonna give you guys a minute.”
He stood and left quietly, pulling the curtain partially closed behind him. The world shrank down to just us—the hum of machines, the faint smell of antiseptic, Anna’s hand gripping mine like she was afraid to let go.
“You passed out,” she said, brushing her thumb over my knuckles. “Damian called me. He said emergency surgery and I—I thought—”
She broke off, pressing her lips together as tears slid down her cheeks.
I tightened my grip on her hand as much as I could. “I’m here,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She laughed softly through her tears. “You don’t get to promise things like that when you pull stunts like this.”
“Fair,” I admitted.
She leaned forward, resting her forehead against my shoulder carefully, like she was afraid to hurt me. I breathed her in—her shampoo, something familiar and comforting—and felt the tension ease out of my chest.
“What did they say?” she asked quietly. “About your knee?”
I exhaled. “Damian didn't go into details but from how it feels, I guess I ruptured something. They had to repair it, stabilize the joint. Long recovery.”
Her fingers stilled. “How long?”
“A very long time,” I said.

She looked up at me, searching my face, probably expecting anger. Frustration. Fear.
I felt all of those things. But mostly, I felt grateful.
“I’ll deal with it,” I said. “I just want to walk again without collapsing.”
Her mouth trembled. “I don’t care about hockey. I just want you okay.”
I smiled faintly. “I know.”
There was a pause. Then she glanced around the room, eyes flicking to the IV, the bandages, the heavy brace immobilizing my leg.
“Marcus,” she said softly. “Damian said you were setting something up.”
My heart stuttered.
“Oh,” I muttered.
Her brows knit together. “What?”
I groaned, dropping my head back against the pillow. “You weren’t supposed to find out like this.”
She blinked. “Find out what?”
I hesitated, then sighed. “I was going to ask you to the Spring Formal. Properly. We were setting it up in the gym. Lights. Banner. Everything.”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“You were—” She laughed, then cried at the same time. “You did all that? With a busted knee?”
“Worth it,” I said immediately. “Even if I didn’t get to finish.”
She leaned over carefully and kissed my cheek, lingering there. “You are unbelievable.”
“Is that a yes?” I asked weakly.
She pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. “Marcus McKay, I would go to the dance with you if you showed up in a wheelchair.”
My chest warmed painfully. “Good. Because that might actually happen.”
She smiled through tears. “We’ll make it work.”

The door opened again, and Peter peeked in. “Doctor says visiting hours are almost up.”
Anna nodded reluctantly but didn’t let go of my hand. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said. “First thing.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I watched her stand, watched the way she hesitated before letting go of my hand, like it took effort to step away.
“Hey,” I said before she reached the door.
She turned.
“Thank you,” I said. “For coming. For staying.”
Her eyes softened. “Always.”
When the room finally went quiet again, I stared up at the ceiling, the beeping steady, my leg aching. Everything happened way before it was supposed to. Now with the script changing, my life was about to be turned upside down. But I wasn't afraid to take it on, because I had the love and support of the people I cared about most. Well....almost everyone.