As of today, it had been three hundred and sixty-two days since Taliana had last spoken to Sebastian Phillips.

In the grand scheme of things, a few days shy of a year wasn’t an exorbitantly long time to avoid each other, but when two people shared the same core group of friends, not speaking seemed like an impressive feat. Then again, considering the final fight that put the nail in the coffin of their relationship had been a massive one, it should have come as no surprise.

The only civil thing they’d done—spliced in between the screaming and hurtful accusations as the Fourth of July fireworks exploded in the background—was decide that they were better off simply not talking. Up until a few seconds ago, they’d both managed to stick to that agreement, but considering the dire situation at hand, Taliana figured this was not the time to worry about their broken treaty.

“I got your message,” Sebastian said in a rush, not bothering with a greeting, but there was no mistaking his voice. “What’s going on with Michael?”

She knew Michael was the most important topic at the moment, but it still stung to be simply treated as a messenger, as if she could have been anyone calling to deliver this news.

Taliana cleared her throat, going back to watching the steady rise and fall of Michael’s chest. “He was in a car accident last night on his way home from the Olympic swimming trials. He’s alive, but it’s just a waiting game now.”

She could hear Sebastian draw in a shuddering breath, the busy background noise almost drowning him out. “How did it happen?”

“It was pretty much what we joked about happening,” she mumbled, remembering the way they’d once teased Michael about it, but neither one of them could have known their prediction would ever come true. “He was driving the Ferrari at a hundred miles-per-hour on a dark road while getting a handjob from some random girl he met at the trials. Apparently he hit a pothole, lost control, and wrapped the car around a tree. The girl walked away with a broken arm and a few bruises, but is otherwise okay minus some embarrassment. But Michael– Michael wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. He was thrown from the car.”

“Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking—” Sebastian cut short, taking a moment to compose himself before speaking again, voice hard. “How bad is it?”

She could hear the doctor’s voice in her head, solemnly listing off all of Michael’s injuries.

“Broken hip and arm, and a few cracked ribs. A concussion and brain swelling. Ruptured spleen, internal bleeding, and… two fractured vertebrae.”

“Fuck.”

“I know,” she whispered, the tears back again. Michael was a blur in her vision. “It’s not good, but he’s alive. That’s all we can hope for.”

“Right, of course.” Sebastian didn’t sound entirely convinced of that. “Are you at the hospital with him now?”

“Yes. And I’m not leaving until I know he’s going to be all right. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“Good, I’m glad someone’s there with him.”

There it was, that sting of the slap again. Someone, like she truly was anyone, like there was no history between them. She’d apologized to him in that message for a reason, uttered the words I’m sorry for reasons other than their shared best friend having been grievously injured. What had happened between them was her fault, she knew that and had accepted the blame ages ago, but the fact that even Sebastian’s tone couldn’t convey the fact that she was more than just someone made her want to scream.

“I’m going to be there as soon as I can,” Sebastian continued, drawing her back from the thoughts of self-pity. “Hannah and I just landed in San Francisco—as in we literally stepped off the plane a few minutes ago. I still have to go through customs, but I’ll be on the next flight to D.C.”

“Is she coming too?”

The question was off Taliana’s tongue before she could take it back, needing to know if she had to prepare herself for another blow.

“Probably not,” Sebastian exhaled, and she could imagine him dragging a hand through his messy dark hair. “We’re here for her sister’s wedding in a few days, and I don’t want her to miss out on time with her family.”

Taliana gave a murmur of understanding, partially relieved that this wasn’t something she had to deal with now. She’d been encouraging Sebastian to move on for years now, and had done so herself several times over already, but it had taken last year’s fight to convince him to finally do so. He’d started dating Hannah three months later, something Taliana knew she should have been thankful for, but the fact that the girl was her polar opposite had only rubbed her the wrong way.

But that wasn’t important right now. Her own petty feelings had no place in the matter at hand.

“You might want Hannah to come when she can,” Taliana said softly. “We’re all going to need as much support as we can get.”

“You’re right,” Sebastian agreed, and this time he actually sounded like he believed it. “How are you handling all of this? This can’t be easy for you.”

I’m about to break, she wanted to tell him. I’m about to scream until I can’t anymore.

“I’m fine,” she said. “That doesn’t matter right now.”

“It does matter, Taliana.”

Sebastian’s voice had softened, that gentle way of speaking that made her want to curl up against his chest and spill all her secrets. Part of her wondered if she should be honest with him, to tell him that the last nineteen hours had been the worst in her life, tell him that if Michael died, she wouldn’t know what to do anymore.

Instead she swallowed hard and said, “You don’t need to worry about me. Just get here, okay? Michael needs you.”

She then reeled off the name of the hospital, its address, and the floor of the ICU where their best friend was being treated. It wasn’t until he’d repeated it all back to her that she dared to hang up, him leaving her with the parting words of I’ll see you soon ringing in her head.

Michael’s chest was still rising and falling evenly, vitals as level as could be expected for someone with his caliber of injuries. One of the nurses had just stepped inside, checking the IV in his hand before reaching up to adjust one of the bags of fluids hanging above his head, casting shadows across his bruised face. Taliana could repeat the damage to herself over and over again, could try to rationalize that bones would heal and antibiotics could do the work of his missing spleen, but simply looking at him painted such a different picture.

Blood loss had left his skin sallow, but the slowly forming bruises and deep lacerations had tinted it blue and scarlet, blending into sick purples wherever they met. His face was swollen almost past the point of recognition, and how she’d known it was him without doing a double take was still a mystery. But she’d only needed one glance to realize that this ripped apart ragdoll was her roommate.

If he recovered from this—when he recovered from this—she knew he was going to hate the scars this would leave behind. They’d had to cut him straight open in order to remove his spleen and stop the internal bleeding, leaving a long line from chest to abdomen, and for someone who spent more time than necessary admiring his naked torso in the mirror, Michael certainly wouldn’t be pleased to see that there.

It seemed almost silly to be thinking about the superficial things, but dwelling on the fact that his broken back meant he may never walk again was too much to handle. Right now, she needed him to live. Everything else could be handled later down the line, once his bones had healed and the scars had formed.

When that moment came, she’d be standing right beside him, doing everything she could to make sure he’d never have to deal with this alone.

Yes, they’d get through this.

Together.

***

“Talia? Sweetheart? Hey, come on, wake up. Taliana.”

With a start, Taliana opened her eyes and almost immediately closed them again, retinas seared by the harsh sunlight coming in through the window. Someone’s hand was on her shoulder, a familiar weight that she wasn’t tempted to shake off, but it was her stiff, aching back that made her groan as she sat up and finally focused on the person in front of her.

“Brad,” she mumbled, squinting up at him. “How—Why are you—What are you doing here?”

Her eyes were finally starting to adjust as he tucked a lock of greasy hair behind her ear, the hospital room swimming into view just before his face came into focus. His strong jaw was covered in a little more stubble than usual, meaning he’d either been too busy or too worried to shave today, but his dark blond hair was parted perfectly. The fact that he’d spent time on one thing but not the other was enough to make her smile despite everything.

“Figured I’d bring you some things,” he said, nodding down at the small duffle bag resting by her feet. “Change of clothes, toiletries, and that stash of Belgian chocolate you keep in my cabinet that you think is a secret.”

“You’re a godsend,” she breathed out, pushing herself out of the rickety chair and into his arms. She hadn’t realized how desperately she needed a hug, especially from someone she loved as much as him. “Thank you.”

Brad was quick to pull her close, pressing a kiss against her hair. “It’s no problem. I figured you’d want to change before all of Michael’s friends started to get here. And speaking of…”

She leaned back as he trailed off, suddenly realizing they were violating the hospital’s policy of one visitor at a time. “Is someone else here? Why’d they let you back and not them?”

“It’s either because I told them I was here to bring you fresh clothes, or I’m just really charming. Maybe both.” He offered up a weak smile and loosened his grip on her, as if he expected her to bolt at any second. “Or maybe it’s because they didn’t want to let the lady with a baby on her hip and a six-man entourage into the ICU.”

Brad had been right to let her go.

She was out in the hallway before she could blink, skidding around the corner and jogging until she was in front of the nurses’ station. One of the nurses nodded towards the doors that separated the ICU from the waiting room, and Taliana didn’t even have to open her mouth to ask before the doors were swinging open, revealing the lady with a baby on her hip and the six-man entourage that Brad had mentioned.

And God, was Taliana happy to see them.

“I’m glad you’re here, your royal highness.”