The memories come back in blurry fragments.
Driving the four-wheeler through the orchard. The low hum of the engine beneath me. A sudden, violent jolt. Weightlessness as I flew forward. The sickening crack of bone when my body hit the ground. The crushing weight of the ATV pinning me down, squeezing the air out of my lungs while pain tore through every inch of me.
A shudder runs through me.
I remember lying there—cold and alone—watching the sky fade into darkness through the branches overhead. But then I saw Luke’s headlights, cutting through the trees like a beacon of hope. I remember calling out to him with the last bit of energy I had left.
After that… everything dissolves into a haze.
I shift slightly against the pillows, blinking around the room.
Three familiar figures are crammed onto the small couch across from the bed. Olivia, Chloe, and Justin sit shoulder to shoulder, practically stacked on top of each other. Chloe’s legs are tucked beneath her while Justin leans forward with his elbows on his knees.
Justin’s playing on a portable game system. Chloe’s scrolling on her phone. Olivia is asleep against Justin’s shoulder, her mouth slightly open.
A frown tugs at my chapped lips.
How long have they been here?
Luke sits in a chair on the opposite side of the room, his jaw tight. He stares at the boxy TV bolted to the wall, where a football game plays silently, closed captions scrolling across the screen.
My gaze drifts to the other side of the bed, and my chest tightens.
Troy’s pulled a chair right up beside me. His head is tipped sideways against the backrest, eyes closed, completely passed out. Dark circles shadow the skin beneath his eyes, and his hair sticks up messily, the ends of his mullet a tangled mess.
God, he looks exhausted.
I try to clear my throat. The sound that comes out is rough and hoarse, scraping through the quiet room.
Five heads snap up.
“Oh my god—”
“You’re awake again!”
“Hey, Ashton!”
In the span of two seconds, they’re all on their feet and swarming the bed. Their voices overlap chaotically, impossible to decipher.
“Are you okay?”
“How are you feeling?”
“Do you need water?”
“Should we call the nurse?”
“Are you in pain?”
I blink up at them, still trying to catch up with what’s happening.
“I’m fine,” I rasp, lifting my good hand weakly. “Guys—”
They all stop talking at once, the room falling eerily silent.
“What’s going on?” I ask slowly. “What happened?”
They exchange looks, but nobody answers. For some reason, all of my siblings glance toward Troy expectantly—like they’re waiting forhimto speak up. Like they want him to explain something.
