The first thing I noticed was the silence. Not the peaceful kind. Not the kind where the world felt calm and still. The terrifying kind. The kind where even the hum of my phone charging across the room felt like it was coming from somewhere miles away.

I opened my eyes slowly, immediately regretting it. Light poured through the crack in the curtains, and pain exploded behind my eyes so violently that I squeezed them shut again, my stomach twisting in response.

“Fuck.”

The word came out as barely a whisper, as my head throbbed in time with my heartbeat. 

As much as I should force myself to drink water and take some meds, the only thing I would be doing is trying to go back to sleep, hoping the pain would magically subside the next time consciousness caught up with me.

That plan lasted all of a few seconds, until Beau’s arm pulled me a bit closer, reminding me he was still here.

We had been dating for a few months now, and somehow I had managed to avoid this.

The ugly parts.

The parts where I wasn’t laughing at his jokes or stealing his hoodies or pretending I wasn’t secretly obsessed with how easily he could make me smile.

I had avoided the moments when I was sick, tired, and inconvenient to be around. I wanted to be low maintenance and fun, not needy and helpless.

I knew that wasn’t fair. I knew Beau had never given me a reason to think he would leave. But old habits were harder to break than I wanted to admit.

“Baby?”

His voice was rough with sleep.

I froze.

“Sorry.”

His eyes opened immediately.

That was one of the things I was learning about Beau.

He could sleep through almost anything.

Except me.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

The answer came too quickly.

Beau blinked at me. Analyzing my face.

“Nothing?”

“I just woke up.”

“You’re crying.”

I hadn’t even realized I was, but his voice was overwhelming.

I wiped at my cheek quickly.

“I’ll be fine.”

Beau’s expression softened, “Migraine?”

“How did you-?”

“You haven’t opened your eyes yet. You’re practically whispering. You look pale. How bad is it?”

I looked away.

That was answer enough.

His entire demeanor changed.

“Bad,” I admit defeatedly. 

Beau sat up immediately, trying his best not to jostle me too much. I couldn’t hide my wince at the movement.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. I’ve got you.”

“Beau—”

“No.”

I frowned.

“No?”

“No ‘I’m fine.’ No ‘you don’t have to.’ No apologizing.”

My eyes opened slightly.

He was already moving around the room, shutting the curtains completely, unplugging the bright alarm clock, and turning off every little source of light.

“You don’t even know what I need.”

“No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”

He came back to the bed and crouched beside me.

“But I know you.”

My throat tightened.

Beau brushed my hair away from my face carefully.

“You don’t have to earn being taken care of.”

That almost broke me.

Because that was the part nobody talked about.

The guilt.

The feeling that needing someone was somehow failing.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” I admitted.

Beau frowned.

“Like what?”

“Like this.”

I gestured weakly.

“Miserable. Not fun.”

For a moment, he just stared at me.

Then he shook his head.

“Baby.”

The way he said it made my chest ache. He gently took my hand in his. 

“I am here for all of it, the good, the bad, the ugly. I hate that you’re hurting. But I’m glad that I’m here to take care of you.”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead, careful and gentle.

“You’re allowed to have bad days.”

Another kiss.

“You’re allowed to need me.”

Another.

“And you’re allowed to wake up with a migraine and still be my favorite person.”

I closed my eyes.

The pain was still there.

The world was still too bright and too loud and too much.

And through it all, Beau stayed.

He brought me water, food, and headache medicine. He kept the room dark. He sat beside me for hours, barely moving except to check if I needed anything.

And when I finally started to fall asleep again, curled against him in the quiet, I realized something.

Beau didn’t love me because I was easy to love.

He loved me because I was me.

Deciding to take two cars, you drove alone as Hannah and Allie followed behind you in Hannah’s car. As you continued to drive, the snow became heavier and heavier, the visibility lessening for you. The girls decided to pull over for a quick pee break, you letting them know you were going to keep going.

Seeing the snow finally let up, a sigh of relief comes from you, as you can at least see now. Maintaining a fair distance from the car in front of you and not going too fast, you were determined to get there on time and safely.

It was only a matter of time before the familiar feeling of your tires skidding makes your heart drop in your stomach. You try gently turning the wheel, foot hovering over the brake as your car eventually reaches the stop sign, coming to a complete stop at the divided highway. 

Slowing your breathing down, you exhale, thankful nothing too scary happened. Seconds later, a car rear ends you, most likely unable to stop properly on the ice as well, causing your car to be pushed into the middle of the highway. Attempting to turn your wheel and move was a lost cause, the gas pedal doing nothing as your tires skid in place. A loud horn sounds as you look out of your driver’s side window, seeing bright headlights coming straight for you.

Your heart lurches in your throat, the car slamming into the center of the driver's side your car. Your head whips to the side on impact, your car now being pushed by the truck, unable to stop. Eventually, you separate from the truck as they successfully hit their brakes, only to send your car ping ponging off a metal pole as your car slides into a ditch.

Snow starts to pour down again as you finally stop, angled awkwardly in the ditch, the car tilting to the right. Your right foot managed to get stuck under the now busted brake pedal, any movement sending waves of pain through your foot and up your body. Airbags deployed, every light on your dash on or flashing, your seatbelt locking you in place. Being too scared to unbuckle it and do more damage, you leave it alone.

Trying to breathe and stop the tears, you try and reach for your purse. Your phone peeks out, just out of your reach, a loud groan leaving your lips as you realize you're trapped. A sense of lightheadedness creeps up on you, not knowing how severe your injuries were, you closed your eyes, focused on your breathing, praying that someone would help you.

Hannah and Allie weren’t too far behind you, confusion finding them as they still haven’t seen your car. They approach the divided highway, Allie noticing some slight debris in the road.

“What the hell?” she says, looking around, seeing a truck stuck in the middle of the road. She watches as the guy who presumably was in the truck runs towards the ditch. Allie’s heart drops, seeing a strange brush of the grass and snow paved out as if something slid through it, leading into the ditch. 

“Hannah, pull over, they might need help.” Allie says. Hannah doesn’t question her, pulling off to the side of the road, putting the car in park. Allie rushes out, not caring if she slips on ice. Snow continues to fall as she runs to the top of the ditch. Her heart sinks, seeing a Briar U bumper heart shaped sticker, distorted from the initial hit but still visible on the right side of the back of the car.

The bumper sticker she gave you.

“Fuck! Call 911!’ Allie shouts out to someone, anyone, as she runs down the hill, Hannah on her trail, grabbing her phone. Allie finally reaches the car, her heart sinking once again, seeing you passed out in the driver’s seat. She yells out your name.

“Shit! We’re here, okay?! We’re gonna get you outta there!” she yells, not even knowing if you can hear her.

After what feels like hours, the police and fire rescue arrive, safely extracting you from the car, getting you onto a stretcher as you groan in pain at any sudden movements. The girls get the approval to leave Hannah’s car as they both get in the back of the ambulance with you, one of the firefighters handing Allie your purse with your belongings. Hannah holds your hand as Allie pulls your phone out to start calling your family. After notifying your family, she puts your phone away, grabbing hers from her pocket. Before she can call Dean, your mumbles catch her attention.

“Shhh try not to talk, okay?” Allie soothes.

“Logan…” you mumble, “someone… has to tell Logan,” you finish, your eyes slowly blinking, slightly loopy from the morphine given to you to help ease your pain. Allie and Hannah’s eyes leave yours to look at each other, both incredibly confused, thinking you’re just extra loopy. Hannah looks back down to you, leaning in closer to you.

“John… Logan?” Hannah asks. You nod ever so slightly.

Logan’s hanging out with the guys at the house, complaining once again about Tucker’s massive Christmas to-do list when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He laughter dies down, smile fading, confused when he sees the caller ID as ‘Allie Dean’. They were chill with each other, sure but never really interacted too much unless she was with Dean, hence the contact name. Unsure if it’s a butt dial, he answers.

“Hello?”

Logan’s chest tightens hearing Allie’s stressed voice, rambling as she explains what she knows about your situation and mentions that although strange to her, you asked her to call him. The guys look at Logan with concern, seeing the way his face dropped and the color seemed to wash away from his face. Allie drops the name of the hospital you’re headed to.

“You gotta get here now.”

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧

Logan enters the hospital faster than humanly possible, scouring the waiting room until he finds the girls sitting there, nervous looks on their faces. Garrett, Dean and Tucker follow behind him, the same stressed looks on their faces.

“Where is she?!” Logan asked, worried out of his mind. Hannah reassured him that you were currently in surgery and most importantly, that you were alive. Logan runs his hands through his hands as he sits down, his head now sitting in his hands as he tries to slow down his breathing, the adrenaline consuming him.

“What the fuck happened?” Dean asked, rushing to hug and comfort Allie.

Hannah tries to explain everything they know, not knowing how you ended up in the ditch. They described your injuries, Allie explaining how she found you, tears welling up in her eyes. The energy in the waiting room is heavy, not just from the stress of your unknown status, but of everyone but Logan looking at each other, confused yet intrigued about what was going on between the two of you.

No one brought it up, obviously wrong place, wrong time, but the thoughts did circulate, along with waiting, hoping and praying you’re okay. 

After what felt like hours, the surgeon enters the waiting room, calling out your last name. All six heads snap towards the sound of his voice, Logan getting up the fastest as the surgeon walks over to the group.

“She’s stable,” he starts, exhales and sighs of relief leaving everyone.

“She did break her right foot and she’s got some minor fractures in her leg, along with some torn muscles, some cuts and bruises from the impact. Fortunately, there were no signs of spinal injury or any internal bleeding, but we did find signs of whiplash and the few broken bones. She’s incredibly lucky,” he finishes.

Logan rubs his sweaty palms against his pants, his body still shaking from the overwhelming anxiety. The surgeon continues,

“We’ve got her in the ICU now. We’re going to keep an eye on her for a little bit before we can move her to a room, then she can have visitors,” he finishes. Everyone says their thanks before sitting down.

The longer the wait, the more nervous Logan got. His leg bouncing at a rapid rate, him constantly standing up and pacing around the room. His heart raced in his chest at the thought of anything happening to you. Although he felt relief knowing you were okay, not being able to physically see you, to physically touch you, was killing him.

After what felt like days, into the late hours of the night, a nurse comes out, saying your last name, once again, grabbing everyone’s attention.

“She’s finally settled in her room, we can start bringing you guys back, but it’ll have to be one at a time,” she explains.

Garrett pats Logan on the back, “Go. Go see your girl.”

Logan nearly tears up, not even caring that everyone knows now. Everyone nods in agreement as Logan follows the nurse back into the inpatient rooms area. His heart races, not knowing what to expect. Eventually, he and the nurse arrive at the door, opening it softly. 

Logan’s body tenses up, anxiety bubbling up inside him. You lay on the bed, peacefully sleeping, an oxygen mask sitting lightly in your nose. A small cut on your left temple, scrapes on your arms, your foot elevated in a sling and wrapped in a cast.

He didn’t think he hated anything the way he hated seeing you so hurt, so vulnerable, so quiet. The nurse leaves, shutting the door behind him as he approaches the bed. You lie there, another wave of nausea coming over him, his mind thinking the absolute worst. He finds the spare chair in the room and gently pulls it over so he can sit at your bedside. His hand reaches up to find yours, being careful to not touch any wires. Slight redness graces your knuckles as Logan brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles, wishing he could take away all of your pain.

“I’m so fucking glad you’re okay,” he mumbles into your hand, before dropping both your hands on the bed. As if his words had some magic touch, your brows furrow as you shift slightly, your eyes opening slowly, a groggy, glazed look in your eyes.

“Hey, hey…” Logan says, standing up so you can see him without having to move your head too much. “You’re okay.” he says, for you but also for him.

“Water… please,” you croak out, Logan letting go of your hand, finding the cup of water sitting on the counter. He grabs it, extending the straw for you as you try and sit up, grunting in pain. 

The ice cold water washes into you like you had been dehydrated for weeks, instantly feeling better before nodding to signal you were done. Logan puts the cup down before coming back to you, sitting down in the chair. Despite the pain in your neck, you turn your head, a tear that was sitting in your eye falls down your cheek, bottom lip quivering.

“I thought I was gonna die,” you say, voice breaking, fighting more tears that threatened to spill.

Logan’s hand comes up to your head, lightly moving the hair from your forehead before kissing it, soothing you with gentle hands, his thumb lightly grazing your temple.

“I know, baby, I know. But you didn’t. You’re here and you’re safe,” he reassures, his thumb moving to your cheek. With a light nod, you agree, thankful that this didn’t go where you thought it was going to, being trapped in that car for so long.

After a few moments of a now more comfortable silence, Logan speaks up again,

“Allie called me, she and Hannah found you,”.

Tears refill your eyes, guilt washing over you knowing you had probably traumatized both of them, them having to see you like that. Logan immediately clocks it, shutting down those thoughts.

"Hey, this was not your fault. Thank God they were there and were able to get help, right?" he reassures. You nod, Logan's thumb coming to wipe the tears off your cheeks.

“They all know.”

“Good. It was about time we told them,” you joke, a light giggle leaving your lips, your eyes still full of tears. Logan had never been happier to hear your laugh, joining you in laughter.

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧

After the overnight stay, your vitals looked good and you were cleared to go home. After seeing everyone, you insisted that they all went home and got some sleep. Logan had immediately said no to that, staying with you the entire night, camping out on the guest chair in your room. Once you got discharged, the nurse wheeled you out on a wheelchair to the front drive, Logan pulling his truck around the front. He and the nurse both worked to get you in the truck, saying your goodbyes and thanks before heading to your apartment.

You hobble off the elevator on your crutches, muscles still sore as you approach your apartment door. Logan opens your front door for you as you enter, you immediately finding your couch. Sighing, you plop down, thankful for finally be rid of that hospital bed.

“You hungry?” 

“Oh my god, yes, I’m so tired of hospital lasagna and Jello cups.”

Logan stayed with you at your place for the first week of your recovery. The way he always took care of you, doing everything you needed - half the time without you even needing to ask - made this recovery process so much lighter and less stressful. No matter how frustrated you got, he always knew exactly what to say to calm you down and comfort you.

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧

Following that first week, after your energy came back, you and Logan made your way to the hockey house, hanging out with everyone, you needing desperately to get out of the house. A hangout with your friends is exactly what you needed.

You all sit on the couch, Logan setting a pillow down on the coffee table for your foot, helping you hike your leg up before he sat down next to you as you both explain, well, everything.

"You guys have been dating?"

“For months??!”

"No way."

“And you didn’t tell anyone?”

“Why wouldn’t you say anything?”

Questions bombarded both of you as you laughed. “In my defense, I was gonna tell you girls at the cabin,” you say, giggling.

Despite this very traumatic event, you found yourself incredible grateful for not just your boyfriend, but the group of friends you had surrounding you. This was going to continue to be a long and frustrating recovery process, but knowing you have the support system behind you that you do, alleviated some of that pain for you.

✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧･ﾟ*✧

“Doin’ so good for us, baby…” she murmured against you, adjusting herself so her lips could reach your forehead. You whimpered at the contact, burying your head into her chest while your body bounced softly from Dean’s thrusts. “You waited so patiently, yeah?”

The thickness of Dean’s fingers was nothing compared to his cock—it was thick and heavy, reaching deeper depths that you never thought existed within you. The slow pace that he was digging into your body made it even more obvious—making you feel every ridge of his cock.

Allie waited for Dean to agree with her, only to look up at the man and see him drooling against your ankle, brows scrunched softly, basking at the feel of your soft velvet walls. He was completely gone; moans spilling freely from his open mouth as his tongue lolled out.

The sight was enough to undo her. Watching her boyfriend completely lose his mind inside her best friend’s pussy had her clit throbbing as though it had its own heart.

You keened when she chuckled lowly, mouth parting in search of hers, never closing even as she ignored you. Her arm that draped beneath your neck stretched until she could twist your nipple between her thumb and index as the other cupped Dean’s jaw.

Your muffled hearing could barely pick up your moans, let alone Dean’s slurping when Allie got him out of his head.

“Baby…” she whispered, a subtle scolding in her tone. “We’re s’pposed to be taking care of her, remember?”

Dean mumbled a response, shaking his head lightly to focus at the sight beneath him—and it almost made him come.

Your hazy eyes were darting between looking up at him and Allie, completely glazed and shot as quiet “ah’s” slipped from your lips with his every thrust. You looked completely wrecked in Allie’s arms, melting with her every touch—letting out a broken moan when the woman’s fingers parted your folds before circling your puffy nub.

Dean watched as your leaden hand copied Allie’s movements, only this time, you shoved two fingers into her still hot entrance, making her moan. His grip tightens on your hip, almost losing himself again—cock swelling inside your warmth.

You feel him twitch inside your cunt when your parted mouth reveals your tongue reaching for Allie’s nipple, closing around the fat flesh. You revel at the moan she let out—at the wetness that coated your fingers when you did so, throat muscles working at sucking and keeping her tit in your mouth.

She slumped against you once more, fingers still languidly working your bundle of nerves—still twisting your nipple between her fingers.

You keep your fingers buried in her pussy, keeping their mixed juices intact, even as you feel her start to doze off against you. Dean thrusts hard—a knee-jerk reaction to the sight, and it caused a choked moan out of you, the hand that wasn’t inside Allie pawing at his chest.

“Please—” you needed him closer; to be sandwiched between their warmth properly—suffocate you for all you care. You’ve never felt this much pleasure from sex before and there’s no way you won’t drag it out.

And thankfully, he obliged, letting you pull him in by wrapping your leg around the small of his back, forcing him further into you, cock kissing that spongy spot deep in you.

“Oh—ohfuuu—hah!” he cried out, temple against Allie’s—moaning right against her ear, though she never woke up, only nuzzling more into your combined touch in her sleep, even as your own groan vibrated against her breast.

Dean’s hand gripped the sheets above you helplessly, thrusts growing faster and sloppier simultaneously. His other hand shot up from its grip on your hip to cup your cheek, forcing your mouth off Allie’s chest and slotting his mouth against yours, ignoring your pained whine at the loss of his girlfriend’s flesh.

He swallows each whimper that helplessly leaves you with each thrust, groaning when your wet muscle meets his own. Your back arches when the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, forcing an angle that would likely bruise it—you didn’t care. Not when his sweaty chest graze your nipples with every hump, veins burning with each brush.

Dean’s lips never part from yours, whispering “Goo—good fucking gir—” in between breaths, forehead pressed firmly against your own furrowing one.

You could feel the tight rope in your belly unravelling. His breathless and choked groans a sharp edge to the already burning sensation that seeped through your bones.

He was moaning—a melting whimper, really—as though he’d been deprived of your pussy for so long. Like his girlfriend wasn’t sleeping next to you, like you didn’t have two fingers shoved deep in her cunt that kept in motion with his thrusts—like you didn’t always end up like this whenever you had the chance to.

His thrusts, once lazy and pounding, were now deduced to a melting sloppy humping. Dean couldn’t bear being apart from your warm skin. Not the stickiness that spread across his pelvis and dripped down his thighs from your arousal, nor your limbs keeping him firm against you—nails digging into the tacky skin of his back before it held him against you by his ass.

You let out a choked gasp when you parted from him, but you didn’t let him get far, fingers claiming the hair on his nape and keeping his forehead against yours, your other hand unmoving from Allie’s cunt.

“Dean—hah-please…” you plead. For what? You aren’t sure. Thankfully, he did.

The loss of contact was brief, only necessary so he doesn’t faceplant while trying to adjust you hips higher against his, the angle change, somehow, had him sinking into you more—like your pussy was stretching just to accommodate his neediness.

Every grind of his hips caused the coarse hairs at the base of his cock to rub against your clit, eliciting a high pitched moan from you that you would’ve felt embarrassed of had it not been them you were between of.

You feel his hips stutter, huffed out whimpers slipping from his lips as it falters against yours. Your fingers met in a fist in his tresses, trying to pull him back when he leaned away, but he was determined.

Dean wanted to watch you fall apart on his cock, not for his ego, but for the sight of you being at your most vulnerable. He’d seen you come apart plenty of times before but something about tonight felt more exposed than the rest.

Maybe it’s how openly he’s fucking you as his girlfriend sleeps next to you, or maybe it was your clinging to Allie earlier—just as lost as he was in you despite just thrusting into you.

Maybe, maybe it was how you waited so patiently for your turn, making Allie come enough times for her to doze off, sticking to you like glue.

It didn’t matter what it was, all that mattered was that the way your face scrunched and then softened as bliss shot through your entire body, momentarily consumed by the white that flashed behind your eyes, chest pressed against his as a silent moan wracked through your body.

You felt Dean’s groan vibrate against your chest, his hips thrusting once, then twice before holding his hips flush against yours, swollen tip bursting ropes of cum and flooding your walls white.

Dean let a out a breath that melted into a whine, forehead coming down to rest against your chest as his hips continued a circular motion, drawing out your high.

It was only when you whined in overstimulation did he let up, though he still kept himself inside you, forehead moving from your chest to the crook of your neck, parallel to where Allie’s head now rested.

You finally remove your fingers from Allie’s entrance, indifferent to your now pruney fingers as you took a digit into your mouth, tasting her essence. The hum you let out alerted the man who was just about to fall asleep, making him whine and open his mouth in permission.

Not wasting a second, you pressed your soaked fingers against his waiting tongue, thumb playfully booping his flushed nose when he immediately wrapped his lips around your flesh.

A breath leaves your chest when you settle against their shared warmth, relishing the skin-to-skin contact that they, despite their unconscious state, seem to seek habitually. Dean’s weight acted like a heated blanket—one that kept you warm from the inside out with his cock—a complete contrast to Allie’s soft comforting skin that made you shiver whenever she nuzzled further into your skin.

It was dangerous to stay—even more dangerous to get used to their affections—but for now, you’ll give yourself grace. And Allie and Dean were both grateful that you did.

💌 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞: wrote this in a day. . .while my other wips drown in the sea😝

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

©𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐦 — DO NOT translate, steal or post my work anywhere else without my permission.𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀𝐈 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐄 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐈 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘.

Dinner had gone well, Mimi was especially pleased to see her favorite grandson’s girlfriend. Beau’s dad had offered to drive you both back to campus. The two of you using the evening to relax and have a couple of drinks in honor of Mimi. Beau held the backdoor of his Dad’s SUV open for you. You giggle slightly.

“Why thank you kind sir.” You say in your best posh accent. Beau grins at you, you’re both a little tipsy, and you know exactly what kind of fun you’ll be getting into when you get back to campus. Most likely your dorm, considering you opted out of the roommate situation.

You expect Beau to get in the passenger seat next to his Dad, but he doesn’t. Instead he slides in next to you.

“Oh babe, you don’t have to sit back here with me. You can sit up front with your Dad.” You say.

“Nah, then you’ll be all alone back here.” He says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You hardly have any leg room!” You laugh. Beau just smiles at you.

“I’m fine, really. I want to set back here with you.” He says. Beau’s dad climbs into the drivers seat.

“Feel like I need a chauffeur hat.” He says. You and Beau both laugh, settling into the backseat for the hour long drive back to campus.

Snow drifts lazily through the glow of the headlights, just enough to dust the road. The car is warm, and you can’t help but feel drowsy as you lay your head on Beau’s shoulder. His arm wraps around your shoulders as he chats with his Dad. He’s in the rear passenger seat and you’re in the middle, having migrated to snuggle into him.

“Told you she’d be asleep before we got home,” Beau says. His dad chuckles, glancing in the rearview mirror, his heart sweeping at the sight of his son so utterly in love.

Beau smiles without looking up.

“She’s had a long week.” Beau offers.

“School?” Beau’s father asks.

“Yeah.” He brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “She’s been studying like crazy, and tutoring other students.” His dad nods knowingly.

“She’s a keeper.” His dad says. Beau’s smile grows.

“I know.” He tells his father. You let out a sleepy sigh, unconsciously burrowing even closer into him. He chuckles under his breath before pressing a kiss against the top of your head. Outside, snow continues to fall. The highway is nearly empty. Until it’s not. All to quickly a deer sprints across the road, causing Beau’s father to hit the breaks. The car slides as it hits a patch of black ice. Your eyes flutter open at the movement.

“Beau?” You ask, voice still sleepy. His gaze snaps toward you, your head resting on his shoulder. And the lack of a seatbelt across your lap. You’d moved to the middle to snuggle up to him and forgone your seatbelt about 20 miles ago. The world outside the windows is spinning. Snow. Trees. The guardrail rushing toward them.

Beau’s stomach drops. You’re not buckled and things are about to be very bad. He doesn’t think. One arm hooks around your waist, hauling you flush against his side. His other hand cradles the back of your head, tucking your face in the crook of his neck. He curls around you as much as the cramped backseat allows. Every instinct he has screams the same thing. Protect her and hold on. The SUV spins across the highway before the car slams into the guardrail with a sickening crunch.The passenger side takes the brunt of the collision. Glass explodes inward.

You let out a startled cry, instinctively curling tighter against him. Metal shrieks. The SUV ricochets away from the barrier. It spins again, hitting more ice.

The oak tree fills the windshield. Beau tightens his hold. The front passenger corner takes the full force of the impact. The sound is deafening. Airbags erupt. The engine compartment folds inward. The violent force throws the cabin sideways.

Beau twists with it, wrapping himself around you as the passenger side caves in. Something in his right leg gives with a sickening crack. Pain explodes through him. His shoulder slams into the interior. His ribs scream. Even then his arms never loosen.

It’s late when Dean gets a call.

His phone buzzes across the kitchen island just as he and Allie are about to head upstairs for the night. Allie is curled up on the couch beside him, half-watching a movie, half-scrolling through her phone. He almost ignores the call.

Unknown Number.

He answers anyway.

“Hello?” He asks.

“Is this Dean Di Laurentis?” A professional female voice asks. His stomach tightens instantly a feeling of dread

“Uh, yeah.” He says, sitting up on the couch. Beside him Allie straightens reading her boyfriend’s body language.

“My name is Rachel. I’m a registered nurse at Briar Memorial Hospital. I’m calling because your name is listed as the emergency contact for Miss Y/N Heyward Di Laurentis…”

Dean goes completely still.

“and Mr. Beau Maxwell.” Dean’s face turns stoic.

Allie immediately looks up from the couch. She knows that expression.

“What happened?” Dean asks, already standing.

“There was a motor vehicle collision. EMS transported both patients to our emergency department a short time ago.” Dean’s face drains of color, the worst possible scenario going through his mind.

“Are they alive?” He asks.

“Yes, sir. They’re both alive.”

The breath Dean lets out is shaky.

“But they’re both being evaluated by our trauma team. We recommend you come to the hospital as soon as possible.” The nurse says.

“We’re leaving now.” Dean says, motioning to Allie. She grabs his keys and slips on her shoes.

The call ends.

“What happened?” Allie asks, already grabbing her purse before he can answer. Dean runs a hand through his hair.

“They were in a wreck.” He says, voice shaky. Allie’s eyes widen.

“Oh my God…” she breathes. He doesn’t wait another second, he takes his keys from her hands her one of his hoodies and ushers her out the front door.

“Come on.”

Neither of them says much during the drive. Dean’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel. Allie had tried to convince him to let her drive but he felt like he needed to be in control.

Allie reaches across the center console, quietly resting her hand over his.

“They’re alive,” she says softly. “That’s a good sign.”

Dean nods, his little sister, his best friend both hurt, possibly near death.

The emergency department is controlled chaos when they rush through the sliding doors. Paramedics weave between trauma rooms. Monitors beep incessantly. Nurses move with practiced urgency. Dean barely makes it to the desk before speaking, he’s practically shaking.

“My sister was brought in after a car accident, and her boyfriend.” He explains.The receptionist nods.

“They’re both still being evaluated. A physician will update you shortly.” She says curtly. Dean starts pacing immediately. Allie stays close beside him, watching every set of trauma doors that swings open.

Then voices carry from just down the hallway. Two EMS providers are giving report to another nurse outside one of the trauma bays. Neither Dean nor Allie means to listen. But once they hear Beau’s name…

Neither of them can look away.

“Single-vehicle MVC. Driver lost control after hitting black ice trying to avoid a deer.” One says.

“Driver?” The nurse asks.

“Just some minor abrasions.” A paramedic updates.

“And the passengers?” The nurse inquires.

“The male in the rear passenger seat…” the paramedic checks his notes. “Beau Maxwell.”

“What about him?” The nurse asks.

“He took the majority of the impact.”

Dean feels Allie’s fingers tighten around his arm.

“He instinctively wrapped himself around the female passenger before the collision.”

The nurse blinks. “He shielded her?”

“Pretty much.” The paramedic says.

“Rear passenger side hit the tree.” He pauses.

“If she’d taken that impact instead…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to.

Another nurse quietly says, “She would’ve been crushed.” The paramedic nods.

“He kept her against him the whole time. She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.” Allie covers her mouth, tears pricking in her eyes.

“Oh my God…” she whispers.

“He likely prevented her from being ejected or taking the direct intrusion from the passenger side.” Dean stares at the floor, swallowing hard. The paramedic continues.

“He has an obvious right femur fracture, multiple rib fractures, shoulder injuries, probable concussion.”

“And her?” The nurse asks expecting the worst.

“Bruised up pretty badly. Some facial lacerations, cuts from broken glass, we’re ruling out internal injuries…”

He gives a tired smile.

“Honestly, she’s doing far better than we’d expect from that mechanism.”

“Because of him?” One of the nurses asks.

“I’d bet my paycheck on it.” The paramedic says.

Dean feels his chest tighten. Beau hadn’t just been hurt. He’d put himself between his sister and a tree.

A trauma physician steps into the hallway.

“Dean Di Laurentis?” He asks.

Dean and Allie are both on their feet instantly.

“I’m Dean.”

The doctor offers a reassuring smile.

“They’re both stable.” He says. Dean exhales so sharply his knees nearly buckle. Allie grips his arm to steady him.

“But Beau will need surgery tonight for a fractured femur.” He explains. “I’ve already spoken with his father, he has you both listed as emergency contacts.” The doctor explains.

“And my sister?” Dean asks immediately.

“She’s bruised, cut up, and has what appears to be a mild concussion, but all of her scans look reassuring so far.” The doctor pauses.

“Considering the severity of the crash…” He glances toward the trauma bays. “…she’s incredibly lucky.”

Dean looks through the narrow window in the door. He spots his little sister first. Bandages. Bruises already blooming across her face and arms. But alive. Then his eyes drift to the next bay. Beau. Blood is streaked across his forehead, his brown eyes wild. His right leg is immobilized. His shoulder splinted. Three nurses trying to keep him flat on the stretcher, but he’s frantic.

“Where is she?” Beau rasps. One of the nurses gently presses him back down on the bed.

“Mr. Maxwell, you need to stay still.” One of the nurses says calmly. The look he gives her is heartbreaking.

“I can’t. I need to find her.” He says voice cracking.

“Honey, you need to calm down, we need to help you.” Another nurse coaxes. Beau looks like a wild animal, trapped in the trauma room. He tries to get out of bed wincing in pain. He spots Dean, that only makes him more frantic, tears spilling down his cheeks. It’s the adrenaline and shock and pure fear for her life that has him acting out.

“Dean! Dean! Is she okay, oh God is she okay?” Beau cries. One of the male nurses enters the room helping to hold down Beau’s arm as a nurse preps some medication. No doubt something to calm him down.

“Somebody tell me something.” Beau begs.

“She’s alive.” The male nurse offers. “They’re trying to help her in the next room, just like we’re trying to help you buddy.” He says. The medication hits Beau almost instantly, his body going limp, eyes heavy. Beau squeezes his eyes shut trying to blink off the sedation.

“Can I… can I see her?” He mumbles.

“Not yet.” One of the female nurses says.

“Please…” Beau slurs, his eyes shutting. Dean has known Beau for years. He’s seen him after devastating losses. After brutal practices. After his childhood dog Sparky died unexpectedly. He’s never seen him look this terrified. Allie quietly wipes away her tears, she’s trying to be strong for Dean, but seeing her friends hurt is killing her. Dean simply stares through the glass. Realization hitting him square in the face. He’d never doubted Beau loved you, but this was different. This was the kind of love that overrode fear, reason, and even self preservation.

In the next room over, your sobs echo through the thin hospital curtain. Hot tears stream down your cheeks as a doctor carefully examines the deep gash along your hairline, gently parting the blood-matted strands of your hair to assess the wound.

The doctor glances up as Dean rushes into the room.

“I’m sorry, unless you’re immediate family, I’m going to have to ask you to step outside,” he says, his tone professional but kind.

“She’s my little sister,” Dean chokes out, his voice cracking.

Without another word, he crosses the room and takes your hand, wrapping both of his around yours. The doctor’s gaze flicks briefly toward Allie as she quietly slips into the chair in the corner, but he doesn’t object. She offers you a small, reassuring smile, though her eyes are glassy with tears.

The physician turns his attention back to your head.

“Based on the depth of this laceration, it definitely needs to be closed,” he explains. He looks to be in his mid-thirties, calm and composed. Under almost any other circumstance, you might have thought he was cute.

“I can give you a couple of options. I can suture it, but because of where it’s located, I’d need to shave a section of your scalp first. Or…” He lifts a small sterile stapler from the tray. “We can close it with staples and avoid shaving your hair.”

Your eyes widen at your options, neither sounding particularly pleasant.

“Shave my head?” you whisper before the words dissolve into another sob. Dean’s grip tightens around your hand.

“No.” His answer is immediate. He looks the doctor square in the eye. “Clean it out, staple it, do whatever you have to do—but you’re not shaving my twenty-one-year-old sister’s head.” The doctor gives a small nod.

“Fair enough,” he says. “Some patients get a little uneasy about the staples, so I like to offer both options.”

He opens a drawer and pulls out a sterile staple kit, setting it on the tray beside you.

“I’m also going to numb the area first,” he adds reassuringly. “You’ll feel a few pinches from the anesthetic, but after that you should only notice some pressure. We’ll have this closed up in just a few minutes.”

The doctor snaps on a pair of gloves. Your mind races into a jumbled ball of incoherent thoughts.

“Is Beau?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, you can’t finish the sentence. Dean looks up from where he’s been holding your hand, his heart sinking.

“What happened to Beau?” You ask.

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Truthfully, he doesn’t know and as much as he wants to tell you everything is okay he doesn’t want to give false hope.

“I…” He glances toward the doorway. “I don’t know yet.”

Allie is already on her feet.

“I’ll go find out.” She says. Dean nods gratefully, never once letting go of your hand.

“Thank you.” He tells her, she nods, eyes full of love and empathy.

She slips quietly into the hallway, leaving the room just as the doctor begins preparing the local anesthetic.

“I’m going to numb the area first,” the physician says. “You’ll feel a few pinches.” You don’t respond. Your eyes remain fixed on the doorway, willing Allie to come back. Every second feels like an hour. Dean rubs slow circles across the back of your hand.

“He’s tough,” he says softly. “If anyone can pull through this, it’s Beau.”

A few minutes later, Allie returns. She steps inside, her expression enough to make your stomach twist. She walks over, stopping beside the bed.

“I talked to Beau’s dad.” She says softly. You hold your breath preparing for the worst.

“He’s alive.” She assures quickly. The words release a fraction of the panic squeezing your chest.

“But…” you whisper. Knowing that it couldn’t be that easy. Allie nods gently.

“But he’s pretty banged up, a broken femur, several broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder.” She pauses. “They also think he may have some internal bleeding.” Your fingers tighten around Dean’s, you try to stop the tears from spilling but they come anyway.

“So they’re taking him into surgery,” Allie finishes quietly. “Actually…” She glances toward the clock. “He’s already there.” The room goes silent.

“It-it can’t be that bad,” you whisper, shaking your head. “He was talking to me.” Dean’s thumb brushes across your knuckles.

“The adrenaline probably kept him going.” Dean says softly. Your eyes immediately fill with fresh tears.

“He wrapped himself around me.” You say. Neither Dean nor Allie says anything.

“He…” Your voice breaks. “He held onto me the whole time. I-I didn’t have my seatbelt on.” You say choking on your sobs. Dean looks down, swallowing hard. A sob tears from your chest.

“This is all my fault.” You say.

“I’m going to staple now, try to stay still for me.” The doctor instructs. You close your eyes flinching at the sound of your head being stapled shut.

“No, it’s no one’s fault. It was an accident.” Dean’s answer is immediate.

“If I hadn’t climbed into the middle and taken my seatbelt off…” you trail off.

“No.” His voice is firm now. “This is not your fault.”

“I want to see him.” You say, even though you know he’s in surgery. Allie gently shakes her head.

“Not yet.” Allie reminds. “As soon as he’s out and the doctors say visitors are okay,” she promises, “we’ll take you straight to him.” You nod weakly, another tear slipping down your cheek.

“I just need him to be okay.” You whisper. Dean leans over and kisses your forehead, careful to avoid the wound.

“He knows you’re alive,” he says. “And I guarantee the first thing he’s going to ask when he wakes up is where you are.” For the first time since the crash, you manage the smallest, tearful smile.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “That sounds like Beau.”

The room is quiet except for the steady beep of the heart monitor. You stop in the doorway. For a second, all you can do is stare at him. He’s pale, bruised, and wrapped in enough bandages to make your chest ache. His right leg is elevated in a bulky cast. His arm is secured in a sling. There are scrapes across his face and a small bandage near his hairline. But he’s here, and he’s alive, and he’s breathing, and he’s entirely yours. Dean gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Go on.” He en courages. You walk to his bedside, carefully slipping your hand into his. His parents had stepped out, Dean assuring them that he’d look after you and Beau. Almost immediately, Beau’s eyelids flutter. He blinks staring at you. Then he blinks again. You’re afraid for a split second that something horrible has happened, that he doesn’t remember you or something. His eyes finally find yours. He stares.

“Well…” he trails off, voice scratchy. You laugh nervously giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Hi.” You whisper. Beau’s brown eyes assess you, another long stare.

“You’re really pretty.” He murmurs. You smile, heart beating erratically, maybe he didn’t remember you.

“You’ve said that before.” You tell him.

“I know.” He says nodding slightly.

“Worth saying again and again.” He tells you, his eyes shutting for a split second before he opens them again looking around the room. Dean snorts realizing that his best friend is absolutely zooted.

“He’s still on another planet.” Dean says. Beau barely seems to notice he’s in the room, his eyes drifting to his best friend for a half a second before fluttering back to you. He keeps looking at you.

“Did I die?” He asks seriously. You shake your head quickly.

“No, no baby.” You say reassuring him.

“You sure?” He asks you in disbelief.

“I’m positive.” You say with a slight laugh. He gestures weakly toward you, his hand just barely coming off of the bed, the oxygen sensor lighting his finger up red making him look like E.T.

“’Cause you look like an angel.” He tells you. Your eyes immediately sting, you can’t help but smile. Even high off his ass he’s sweet.

“Beau…” you say. He smiles lazily.

“Knew you’d come find me.” He mutters. Your heart squeezes in your chest. Then his eyes wander past you. He spots Dean. His face scrunches in confusion.

“How the hell did he get in here?” He asks looking back and forth between you and Dean. Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?” Dean says feigning offense.

“I thought this was heaven.” Beau whispers to you. Your face scrunches in confusion.

“If this is heaven who the hell let him in? Someone’s getting fired.” Beau says seriously. Allie has to turn around because she’s laughing hysterically. Dean folds his arms.

“I’ve been sitting in this hospital for seven hours and these are the words you have to say to me? Wow, I’m hurt truly.” He says.

Beau looks genuinely confused.

“Dude I know the stuff you’ve done.” Beau says giving him a knowing look. Dean just shakes his head a smile on his face.

“I liked you better unconscious.” He says jokingly. Beau narrows his eyes weakly flipping him off. You laugh.

The nurse walks in with a warm smile, carrying another bag of fluid.

“Look who’s awake.” She says kindly. Beau looks over.

“Hi.” He says.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him. He thinks about it, pondering the question before he sighs.

“Not the best.” He admits. You laugh so do Dean and Allie. Even the nurse laughs.

“Any pain?” She asks.

“My whole body.” Beau replies. Your heart squeezes in sympathy. Your poor baby.

“We’ll fix that, I’ll bring you some pain medicine.” She says. She checks his IV before asking, “Need anything else before I go grab those meds?”

“Yeah.” He says.

“What is it?” She asks sweetly.

“I gotta pee.” Beau whispers. She smiles.

“You’re okay. You have a Foley catheter in. We’ll take it out tomorrow. But it’s peeing for you essentially.” She says. Beau nods.

“Cool.” He says. She checks something in the chart. Five seconds pass. He looks back at her.

“Hang on.” He says skeptically.

“Yes?” She asks.

“Take what out tomorrow?” He asks.

“The catheter.” She reiterates.

“Where is it?” He asks confusingly.

“It’s draining your bladder.” She explains. He nods slowly.

“Okay.” He says. His eyes suddenly get enormous.

“Oh.” He says realizing what that must mean. The room goes silent as he looks under the blanket, then back at the nurse.

“You mean to tell me…” he trails off. He points toward himself.

“There’s a tube in my penis?” He asks. The nurse nods calmly an amused smile on her lips, you can’t help tell she’s trying hard to stay professional.

“Yes.” She confirms. Beau stares at the ceiling contemplating his life.

“That is the worst news I’ve gotten all day.” He says with a sigh. Dean barks out a laugh.The nurse smiles sympathetically.

“We’ll take it out first thing tomorrow.” She assures. He looks at her.

“You’ve seen it?” He asks wide eyed. You bite back a laugh.

“I have.” She confirms.

“Man.” He says.

“It’s okay.” She assures him.

“I don’t really like people seeing it all…” He makes a vague motion with his hand.

“…noodley.” He says. Allie folds in half laughing. You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Leaning forward you bury your face against Beau’s bed because you’re laughing too hard yourself. Dean has tears in his eyes.

“Noodley?” Dean asks through laughter.

“I don’t know, man.” He says. Beau shrugs.

“I wasn’t expecting company.” He says. The nurse pats his shoulder.

“Honey, I’ve seen more genitalia than a prostitute your is unremarkable.” She says. She starts toward the door signing out of the computer and sliding the glass door shut.

Beau stares at you.

“Well that doesn’t necessarily make me feel better.” He huffs. You bite back a laugh, running a hand through his hair gently.

“Baby, it’s very remarkable in my opinion.” You say.

“Did not need to hear that.” Dean mutters. Beside him Allie laughs.

“I’m gonna go get some coffee, you want anything?” Allie asks. You shake your head.

“I’ll go with you, you two behave. No funny business.” Dean says eyeing you down.

“Dude there’s a tube in my dick.” Beau says. You laugh covering your face with your hands. Allie and Dean walk out leaving you and Beau alone.

A moment passes before Beau glances down at his leg. He lifts the blanket an inch.

“Geez.” He huffs.

“What?” you ask.

“That’s my leg?” He asks.

“Unfortunately.” You say, grimacing at the sight of his poor leg. He stares at it.

“Fuck.” He mutters. “There goes the draft.” He says. You frown.

“Baby,” you begin, not sure what to say.

“Guess I’m just gonna have to be your trophy husband.” He says leaning his head back against the pillows.

“We’ll have to see what the doctor says baby, but you’re always welcome to be my trophy husband, NFL or not.” You say.

“Yeah…” Beau sighs dramatically.

“But now Mel Kiper’s gonna spend six months saying ‘if healthy’ every time he says my name.” He says. You laugh, he just survived a horrible wreck and of course these are the thoughts going through his head.

“And you will be healthy.” You say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I swear I hate that guy.” He mutters. You laugh so hard your head starts to ache. Beau hears it and looks back at you.

“There it is.” He grins.

“What?” You ask.

“Your laugh.” He says softly. He smiles, eyes already drifting closed.

“Missed that.” He murmurs. You squeeze his hand.

“I missed you too.” You say eyes welling with tears.

He hums sleepily, his eyes fluttering shut. “Still think you’re the prettiest girl in the room.” He murmurs.

“Baby I’m the only girl in the room, but that’s very sweet.” You say.

Beau doesn’t even open his eyes. Thirty seconds later, he’s asleep again, still holding your hand.