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I watched Damian work with the police to block off part of the hospital floor as news crews and paparazzi started showing up on the hour, chomping at the bit for interviews and information.

Then I noticed the small flat-screen television mounted in the corner of the waiting room.

Noah’s face was on nearly every channel.

And beside his face, was Silas’s.

The story of the attack was everywhere. The headlines were new each day:

“Gay Hate Crime”

“Young Lovers from Rival Families Left for Dead in Unexplained Brutal Attack”

“Pinnacle Heir Tortured in the Dead of Night”

“Troubled Youth turned Heroic in Rival’s time of Need”

“Hansen Family Under Fire”

“Chief Hansen and His Son…are the attacks connected?”

Noah’s photograph flashed across the screen again and again while anchors spoke in grave tones. Reporters stood outside the hospital entrance, microphones in hand, speculating about the attack and its aftermath. Every time I looked up, there they were—Noah and Silas, frozen side by side beneath breaking-news banners.

Watching it all unfold from a hospital waiting room felt surreal.

The whole world seemed to be talking about them. Yet, I hadn’t the slightest idea they were still seeing one another.

I guess I should have known. Silas had threatened me, even after Noah made the trade. I always wondered why. Why he felt the need to still torment me. And I got it now. He didn’t want me to get in the way.

I considered leaving on the third day. After they showed footage of Noah and Silas out on the town. I couldn’t be too sure about the dates, but it was definitely recent. I couldn’t look away, either. I watched the footage loop on the screen, both of them sitting next to each other in the back seat of some car. Clearly, there was so much I didn’t know.

Chelsea blew up my phone with texts, calls and voicemails. She must have seen it too. I was sure everyone had at this point. I never answered her.

I could’ve left. Maybe I should have. It might have been easier than facing it each day. But I didn’t want to. My feelings for Noah had only grown. He’d been there for me through the darkest parts of my life. He had held me together after Silas had tried to hurt me. Brought me into his home. Clothed me. Made me feel…seen. I thought maybe that’s what hurt the most. The fact that Noah still saw Silas…still protected him…someone who had torn me down so violently…caused me to withdraw within myself. It was like I was losing someone I loved all over again. I questioned if anything I had even felt was real.

Even though I was close to leaving, I kept telling myself I owed Noah a conversation before I walked. Truth was, I didn’t know how to breathe without him. We’d never called ourselves exclusive, or put a label to anything we were doing. If anything, we were friends—close friends, and that had just blossomed into something more. For me, this happened rapidly. I had fallen for Noah—completely, stupidly, without fully understanding who he was.

I blamed myself for my naivety.

I could have sworn I knew Noah’s heart. Maybe that was the reason I stayed.

I had seen genuine goodness in him—pieces of the man I believed he truly was. I had trusted him with my secrets. I had given him my virtue. And around him, I actually felt comfortable being vulnerable. My true, authentic self.

But even as I thought it, I knew that wasn’t all true.

I hadn’t been completely honest with him either.

And because of that, I felt like I had no right to be angry. How could I judge him when I was carrying my own damage? I was messed up too.

How twisted was that?

By the fourth day, we received good news. This sufficiently distracted me from my downward spiral. Medication had stopped, and Noah would be waking from the coma any day now. Tests had come back to show the swelling in his brain was nearly completely gone. Once he woke up, he’d move rooms to a less severe floor level and could have visitors. I was grateful for that. I just wanted him to know I was there.

After they had cleared him from the ICU, I made my way down to his room, number 305 at the corner end closest to the nurses station. On my way there I overheard the workers chatting: Silas Thorne was to be moved soon too, same floor, different room.

At that moment I decided I was going to confront him. I didn’t need to have a flashy demonstration, or a yelling match, but I had to know.

I had to know the truth. No matter how much it hurt.