Chapter 213

Noah

I was running on fumes.

Barely a person anymore—just a bundle of nerves, guilt, fear, and the last thin thread of adrenaline keeping me upright.

Having William there didn’t help. At all.

He sat in a chair across from Lexie’s hospital bed, phone in hand, firing off instructions to three different people at once, his voice sharp, efficient, unwavering. Insurance. Towing company. Police. His assistant. The man had practically built a crisis command center right there in the waiting room.

Meanwhile I was…

God. I was barely hanging on.

I held Lexie’s hand while my brain spun and my chest felt like it was shrinking. Every beep of her monitor made me jump. Every footstep in the hallway made me brace.

Two hours passed like that—slow and brutal.

Finally, the doctor came in with her results.

“All scans clear. No concussion, no internal injuries. Just soft tissue trauma, bruising, and expected soreness. She’s stable and can be discharged once she feels ready.”

I swear I felt my whole spine loosen. I breathed for the first time since the crash.

William exhaled sharply, shoulders dropping. He kissed her forehead, whispering something too soft for me to hear.

But I wasn’t relieved for long.

Because the moment the doctor handed Lexie her discharge papers, I asked the only question that mattered next.

“And Micah?”

The doctor nodded, calm and professional, flipping to another chart.

“He suffered a non-displaced rib fracture, a broken wrist, and a small subdural hematoma. It’s mild, but given the bleed, we need to operate tonight. A simple burr-hole drainage procedure. Low risk. Quick. But we don’t wait on these.”

Lexie blinked, already tearing up. “Wait—sorry, what does that mean? A sub… whatever you called it?”

The doctor softened his voice.

“A subdural hematoma is a small collection of blood between the brain and its outer covering. Micah’s is small, but even a small one needs attention. The procedure is straightforward—we make a tiny opening in the skull to release the pressure and drain the blood. It prevents complications later.”

Lexie stared at him, frozen.

“So it’s… a brain injury?”

“A mild one,” the doctor assured. “And we caught it early. That’s why we treat it now, before it becomes dangerous. His outlook is very good.”

I felt the air leave my lungs again.

“And he’s conscious?” I asked.

“Coming in and out. Very groggy. You can see him before he’s taken to prep.”

William pressed Lexie’s hand. “We’ll see him together and then we’re heading home.”

Lexie stiffened. “Dad, I want to stay—”

“No,” he cut in. Firm. Not cruel, but absolute. “You need rest. You’ve been through enough. Noah can stay. I trust him to keep me updated.”

Not like I gave a crap about what he ‘allowed.’

I was staying no matter what.

But God, I was glad I didn’t have to fight for it. I had nothing left to fight with.

Lexie whispered, “Okay, then you get things signed up while I go see him.”

We walked down the hall. My stomach was in my throat.

Micah was pale, hooked to monitors, an IV in his arm, a nurse adjusting something beside him. His eyes were barely open, unfocused—but then they fluttered wider when Lexie leaned over him and took his hand. I sat on his bed, awkwardly straightening his blanket at a total loss for words.

His lips twitched into a crooked little smile.

“I always wanted to be the center of attention…” he rasped.

Relief hit me so hard I had to grab the rail.

“You’re usually center of attention, dumbass,” I muttered. “Not exactly known for being discreet.”

Lexie let out this soft little laugh—half relief, half heartbreak—as she kissed Micah’s knuckles.

“How are you feeling?”

“Kinda high…” he said with a wince. “And also… mildly concerned. Why are you two here? Am I dying?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “We’re just drama magnets. You know how it is.”

Micah’s eyelids drooped. “Speak for yourself. Lexie just couldn’t resist me…”

Lexie smiled through her tears. “Crap! You figured me out… I was already missing you and your sassiness. I had to see you.”

Micah grimaced dramatically. “She’s laughing at my jokes. Okay, yeah, I’m definitely dying.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” she whispered, voice breaking. “You better be okay. We still need to get those hot cocoas with marshmallows you talked about.”

His eyes softened.

Lexie took a breath. “Listen… my father’s making me go home. I can’t push back too hard right now.”

Micah nodded slowly.

“The doctors said you need surgery,” she continued, brushing hair from his forehead. “I wish I could stay. Noah will tell me everything. And as soon as I can get away, I’ll come see you. I promise.”

“It’s okay…” he murmured trying to sound upbeat through his exhaustion. “I know. And my bff will be here…”

“I was never your bff,” I muttered.

“We are now…” he said, drowsy and matter-of-fact.

“Not even close, dude.”

Lexie leaned closer and pressed a trembling kiss to his forehead.

I stepped into the tiny bathroom to splash water on my face—just a second to breathe, to pull myself together.

Even through the door, I could hear her whispering to him, brushing her lips against his forehead.

“I’ll be back soon,” she murmured, her voice shaking but steady enough to reach him. “Thank you for everything last night… And to your question yesterday… I did have a really good time with you. I couldn’t have done any of it without you. It wasn’t easy for me…” She lowered her voice, but I heard it.

Micah’s eyelids fluttered.

He looked at her—really looked—and even half-drugged, half-broken, half-conscious, his eyes filled with tears.

“Me neither…” he whispered, his words thick and slow. “I… understand. It was hard for me too. But you—”

His breath hitched.

“You made me feel like… maybe there’s something left for me. Something worth living for.”

Lexie’s face crumpled. A tear slid down her cheek, then another.

“There is, Micah,” she whispered fiercely. “You fight and you pull through… for me. Okay? Please. I never thought I’d smile again, and you—” she laughed softly through her tears, “you make me smile… and cringe… but mostly smile. All the time. And right now, I really need that. Please… be strong for me. I’ll be back soon. I swear.”

And with that—so tender it almost broke me—she leaned in and kissed him.

Just a small peck on the lips.

Soft. Pure. Fragile.

A promise he held onto with both hands.

I moved closer, resting a hand on Micah’s shoulder.

“I’ll be right here, okay?” I said quietly. “You’re not alone.”

His eyes opened just enough to see me.

“Thank you…” he whispered.

Then his eyelids sank again, the nurse announcing they were taking him to pre-op.

Lexie wiped her cheeks.

I steadied her with a hand to her back.

And the three of us walked out together—two conscious, one carried away—hearts all barely stitched together, and not a single one of us ready for what was yet to come.