Page 89 of Campus Fake

Turned out, getting in a car accident the second time around was marginally less traumatic than the first. And by marginally, I mean that nobody died and I walked away with bruises and a scar down my stomach instead of a shattered life, so the bar was admittedly low.

It had been two weeks since I’d been discharged from the hospital, and while my ribs and abdomen were still sore, the doctors were calling me lucky. I’d gotten a moderate concussion, some internal bleeding that they’d stopped surgically with a laparotomy, bruised ribs, and a collection of other bruises from the impact. But there was no lasting damage, neurological issues, or broken bones. The scar was much more noticeable than the small ones I’d gotten from my last accident, but it was a reminder that I’d chosen to live.

It could’ve been so much worse.

We’d found out the other driver had been driving under the influence of alcohol and drugs and was currently in jail awaiting sentencing for vehicular assault while intoxicated, DUI, and reckless endangerment.

My professors had been surprisingly accommodating. I’d expected to have to grovel and beg for extensions, but most of them had just emailed me get-well messages and adjusted my deadlines. I guess that was the benefit of going to a college in a small town. My professors got to know me personally, and they knew I wasn’t a flake. One of my comm professors had sent me a card signed by the entire class, which I’d cried over in bed while Harry held me. I’d been a little more emotional after the accident.

The good news was that even though I was behind, I wasn’t so far behind that my graduation was in jeopardy, and that was the only thing I really cared about at this point. I was going to walk across that stage with my friends in May.

Tonight was a hockey game, and based on the way everyone was acting, you’d think it was my first time leaving the house in my entire life.

“You don’t have to hold my arm,” I told Abby as she guided me through the arena entrance like I was ninety years old. “I got hit by a car, not a steamroller.”

“You were in a coma for two days.”

“And now I’m not. Progress.”

She gave me a look that said she loved me but was also mentally calculating the fastest route to the emergency room. And I couldn’t really give her too hard of a time about it. Her mom had died in a car accident, so mine had been especially difficult for her.

Behind us, Harper was carrying Rory on one hip and a bag big enough to survive a weekend camping trip in the other.

“Are you sure you’re warm enough?” Harper asked. “The arena’s always freezing.”

“I’m wearing three layers.”

“I should’ve brought an extra blanket. Maybe Ava will have one.”

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and tried to find my Zen. I loved these women, but good Lord, they’d never driven me so crazy at the same time.

“Guys, for the millionth time, I’m fine.”

Abby just smiled and pulled out a spare blanket she’d apparently brought.

I gave up.

The arena was filling up, and the energy had a different edge to it tonight. The season was winding down—only four games were left—and the crowd was a little louder, a little more invested, like everyone knew these nights were numbered.

For Gordy, Foster, and the other senior players, it was especially bittersweet. I knew we’d come to games next year if we chose to stay nearby because Drew, Liam, and Eric would still be playing, but it wouldn’t be the same. It felt like the end of an era, and while the future was exciting, it was a little terrifying too. There were so many unknowns that came with the end of college.

But there was one thing I knew for sure—I’d always have these people in my life. We’d find time for each other even if we didn’t talk every day.

The guys took the ice for warm-ups, and my gaze found Harry immediately. He was stretching in front of the net, dropping into a low crouch and holding it before rising smoothly, testing the edges of his skates against the ice. When he glanced toward the stands and found me, the corner of his mouth lifted just enough that I caught it.

I lifted my hand and blew him a kiss. He pretended to catch it and then put his hand against his chest, right over his heart. I think I might’ve melted into my seat a little.

God, I loved that man.

Eric skated past a moment later, tapping the glass near me with his stick before pointing at the seat I was already sitting in. The universal gesture for stay put.

“I’m being babysat by everyone,” I muttered.

“It just means you’re very loved,” Harper said, not looking up from where she was adjusting Rory’s ear protection headphones.

Yes, I was. My heart felt a little fuller as I sat up taller. One big change from the accident and my coma dream with Bryce was that the guilt I’d carried for so long had disappeared. I no longer questioned if I deserved to be hovered over or mothered by my friends.

I knew they did it out of love, and I deserved to be loved this completely.