Page 89 of Split Decision

She breaks.

Not the controlled fracture she's been holding herself in since she walked through the door—since she decided she could manage this by force of will alone. This is different. This is the sound that slips out when the last brace gives way. A sob, sharp and involuntary, finally tearing loose after being held back through the entireconversation.

Her hands tighten around the crutches, as if they're the only things keeping her upright, knuckles whitening as her body starts to shake. I feel it immediately—the way the strength leaves her all at once, the way the tension drains so fast it's almost violent. She folds inward, not collapsing but coming undone, and the sight of it hits me harder than anything she's said.

I move without thinking, dropping in front of her, my hands coming up to steady her because I can't stand watching her carry this alone for another second. She doesn't look at me. She can't. Her breath stutters, uneven and broken, and every sound feels like it's being pulled from somewhere deep in her chest.

"I'm sorry," she tries, the words barely there, like she's still apologizing for needing something.

That's the part that wrecks me.

I shake my head, close enough now that I can feel the tremor running through her, the effort it's taking just to stay upright. I don't tell her it's okay. I don't tell her she's strong. I don't tell her any of the useless things people say when they don't know how to sit with someone else's pain.

I just stay.

Because this isn't a moment to manage or fix or contain. This is the moment all the careful holding finallyfailed her, and she trusted me enough to let it. And I realize, with a kind of quiet ache, that this is what she's been protecting me from—the cost of seeing her like this, broken open, raw, real.

Her forehead drops forward, resting against my shoulder, and I lift one hand automatically, anchoring her there. She exhales, ragged and exhausted, and for the first time since she walked in, she stops fighting it.

I feel it settle in my chest, heavy and unmistakable:

This is not weakness.

This is the price she paid to keep going.

And I hate that she ever thought she had to pay it alone.

"I've got you," I say. "I've got you, baby."

I hold her until the shaking slows, and then I take the crutches and lean them against the wall and lift her—carefully, carefully—and carry her to the bedroom, and I prop her leg with pillows the way you do when you don't know what you're doing, but you're trying. I look at her face, and her neck, and the bruising that covers both, and something burns in my chest that has nothing to do with anger.

"Who did this to you?" I ask.

It comes out wrong—too sharp, too controlled. She looks at me with those tired, clear eyes.

"No one did this," she says. "I was in a wreck."

I look at her. The cast. The bruising. The way she held her side.

"That's not minor injuries and routine overnight monitoring," I say.

"No," she agrees. "It wasn't."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

LUKE

The tears are still rolling down her beautiful face. Now that I’m really looking, I see her face is covered in bruises and contusions in varying shades of black, blue, green, purple, and red. She carefully wipes the tears from her eyes and sniffles while she tries to gain enough composure to speak.

"You didn't have to bring me in here, Luke. I was almost out of your way. But when you touched me, I just couldn't take the pain of not having you anymore. If I can just rest for a minute, I'll be on my way again. Doors are hard for me to get through on my own. If you don't mind openingit for me, I'd appreciate it," she says as she lays her head back on the pillow and covers her eyes with her forearm.

The tears are still flowing.

“You saw the news?” she asks. Though her tone doesn’t quite sound like a question.

"Only what I saw in the first couple of minutes of the teaser reel. They said it was a minor accident, but you were staying overnight to be monitored." I pause. “Mack confirmed the news was accurate, so I didn’t question it further.”

"It was PR framing so the fans wouldn't panic over the tour schedule." She shrugs, playing it off.