“She’s alive,” he replies without warmth.
My stomach knots. “Will she fully recover?”
He exhales, irritated by the hope in my question. “She’ll need extensive physical therapy. Three to six months. There’s no guarantee she’ll regain full range. Scar tissue could limit extension. Running and advanced movement are… uncertain.”
He never says the word dance but the word detonates in the room without being spoken.
I sag into a chair.I didn’t just hurt her leg, I broke her life.
My father doesn’t notice. Or he does, and doesn’t care.
“The PT,” I rasp. “Here?”
He pauses. “Does she have insurance?”
“I’ll cover it.”
He snorts. “With what? Beer tips?”
My rage spikes and the machines beep faster. My voice cracks open: “Answer. The. Question.”
Sisk stirs, and her eyelids fight to lift. “Jax?” Her voice is thin, frayed at the edges.
The doctor steps closer. “You need rest. We’ll discuss your prognosis later.”
He walks out like she’s a complication—not a girl whose world he shattered with a sentence.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out.
Her lip trembles. “Am I going to dance again?” she whispers. Her voice is hope fighting death.
My lungs seize. “Yes.”
Her eyes sharpen—cutting straight through me. “Jax. The truth.”
“I’m going to fix this,” I whisper.
She turns her face away. “I want you to leave,” she says.
“Sisk—”
“Go, Jax.” Her voice is final. “You’ve done enough.”
I can’t even fucking argue. I want to hit something, to smash a face into the pavement, but there’s no one to blame. There’s only me. I’m the only one who deserves to suffer for this. She’s finally seeing me for what I am, and she’s right. Nothing else matters right now. All that matters is making her whole again and making sure this never happens again. I’ll do whatever ittakes. If that means finding a way to put myself in the ground for good, then so be it.
* * *
Three days of no sleep, of her not wanting me in the room, of me not being able to do a damn thing but wait. By the time the nurse came in with the discharge papers, I’ve worn a groove in the waiting room floor.
I find Sisk half-awake, her face wiped clean. All the fire, all the fight, just gone. She looks like a stranger, someone emptied out and left vacant. She’s staring at the wall, but she turns her head when I push the door open.
“I told you I don’t want to see you,” she says exhausted.
“I know.”
“So why are you here?” Her eyes are unfocused.
“I’m taking you home.”
