chapter two:
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For a moment, everything was unflinchingly still. Not one person moved or spoke as Liam slammed to the ground.

He cried out and suddenly the world was spinning once more.

I was on my feet and jogging out onto the field to stand beside my brother within seconds. Scott looked genuinely bewildered, seemingly unable to comprehend what he'd done. I gently placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to console him before his guilt could get the best of him as we both watched Liam groan and maneuver himself onto his hands and knees.

"Nobody move!" Finstock ordered as he rushed over. "Don't touch him!"

"I'm okay, Coach," Liam tried to reassure him, but the strain in his voice betrayed him. "I'm alright."

Stiles and Scott helped him to his feet, slinging one of his arms around each of their shoulders as he let out more sounds of pain.

"I think—" he started breathlessly, then winced, "—I think it's my leg."

"We should probably take him to the nurse," Stiles said, and Coach nodded in agreement.

"The nurse?" I echoed incredulously, all eyes shooting in my direction. My concern for Liam was the only thing keeping the self-conscious blush off my cheeks. "Stiles, he might have a broken ankle. He needs to go to the hospital."

"Yeah . . ." Stiles trailed off slowly, obviously seeing my point. "I'll drive."

"We had a lacrosse accident. His name is Liam Dunbar and he might have a broken ankle," Scott was explaining to the secretary at the front desk of the hospital, Stiles and myself standing alongside him.

Liam was leaning against the wall opposite us with his arms folded across his chest as he stared at the ground, brow furrowed and lips set in a tight line.

Wringing my hands together, I released a tiny breath and hesitantly walked over to him. He didn't acknowledge my existence as I approached — I didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad sign — and leaned on the wall next to him, deciding to tuck my hands behind my back so I wouldn't fidget.

"Are you okay?" I questioned, my voice quiet.

A curt, humorless laugh escaped his lips. "Peachy," he muttered sarcastically, eyes still glued to the linoleum floor of the hospital. "Thanks for asking."

I bit the inside of my cheek at his response, regretting my decision to even come over here. What was I thinking? He was obviously angry and not in the mood to make conversation.

Wanting to give him some time alone, I pushed off the wall, intending to head back to the receptionist's desk.

"Hey — Josephine, I'm sorry." I stopped mid-step, turning to face him. His expression had softened, blue eyes looking at me with genuine remorse. "Cocky asshole seems to be my default setting today."

Gingerly returning to my previous position, I allowed a small smile to grace my lips. "It's okay," I said, pushing a lock of dark hair behind my ear. "And you can call me Joey, by the way."

A corner of Liam's mouth lifted. "Joey it is."

I casted my eyes to the floor as a beat passed.

"So," I began conversationally, afraid to let an uncomfortable silence stretch between us. I studied the pastel blue flecks that speckled the linoleum as I wracked my brain for something to say. "How long have you been playing lacrosse?"

When he didn't respond right away, I looked up at him. He was staring down at his hands, absentmindedly opening and closing his fingers. I was surprised to see his face had fallen a fraction.

It's okay. You don't have to tell me.

The words were on the tip of my tongue, but as much as I wished I just hadn't said anything, I also wanted to know the story behind his reaction. Lacrosse was obviously more than just a sport to him.

"Since I was little — seven, maybe. It was something my dad and I used to do together," Liam said eventually, his voice taking on a subdued tone that sounded unnatural coming from him. I watched his expression carefully, the way his throat moved as he swallowed down something painful. "Before he walked out on me and my mom."

My heart suddenly felt heavy in my chest.

"But you kept playing?" I asked, quietly.

"Maybe for the wrong reasons at first." He was still playing with his hands. His palms had faint calluses, evidence of how often he held a lacrosse stick. "Actually, in spite of him. I practiced every day after he left, started weight training and focusing my skills. This guy I used to be friends with back at Devenford helped a lot — helped me make the team, too. After that, I realized I didn't need my dad to be a good lacrosse player. I didn't need him at all."

Before I could think too much, I reached out and lightly curled my fingers around his, just barely holding his hand.

I knew from experience that sometimes words weren't enough.

Liam didn't seem startled by my touch, but his eyes lingered there for a moment before he looked up at me. I held his gaze, and as I did, something within me sparked.

"Kids?" a voice I would recognize anywhere spoke up.

"Um, hey, Mom," Scott greeted sheepishly, while I immediately retracted my hand from Liam's and offered a small wave.

Moments later, Liam was lowering himself into a wheelchair as I stood back with Scott and Stiles.

"It's going to be okay, Liam," Mom told him, glancing wearily at me before wheeling him down the hall.

I chewed on my lower lip, staring after the pair until they disappeared around a corner.

"I have to get going," I heard Stiles say behind me. "I promised to meet Malia and help her study."

"I remember," Scott said tonelessly, detached from the conversation. "I want to check on Liam, anyway."

"Do you want a ride home, Jo?" Stiles questioned.

I turned to face them and my cheeks warmed before I even spoke. "I'd like to check on Liam, too, actually," I murmured. Both boys looked at me — one expression scrutinizing and the other understanding. I touched Scott's shoulder reassuringly, told Stiles I would see him later, and then headed off in the direction Mom had gone with Liam.

Beacon Hills Hospital was my second home — was that depressing? — and I navigated through the different sections with little difficulty, locating Liam's room within a few minutes. Upon hearing more than one voice inside, I lingered in the hallway as I caught a glimpse of a dark-skinned man in a lab coat attending to a dejected Liam. It was probably safe to assume he was the doctor.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asked.

"I went up against two juniors—" Liam paused, like he had more to say, but wasn't sure if he wanted to, "—trying to impress this girl," he admitted. "Her brother is captain of the team."

My pulse quickened.

"Liam, remember what we always say: play smart, not hard."

A beat passed before Liam spoke again. "Are you mad at me?"

As they ventured into more personal territory, it dawned on me that Liam's doctor wasn't just his doctor. I realized a bit belatedly that I shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but I was already here, and I knew I wouldn't be able to build up the courage to come back if I left.

Twisting at the sleeves of my cardigan, I waited anxiously for Liam's doctor-slash-probable-step-father to leave the room. Once he eventually left, I took a calming breath and then went in, hoping I didn't look as nervous as I felt.

Liam raised his eyes from his swollen ankle upon my entrance. "It doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it looks," he joked feebly, attempting to keep the mood light.

"Is it . . ." I trailed off, not being able to get the words out.

"Broken?" Liam finished with a sigh. "Yeah, it is."

"Is that all you know?" I inquired gently, sinking down into the padded chair beside the hospital bed.

"For now," he answered. I folded my hands in my lap, and as Liam's eyes settled there, I was instantly reminded of how I'd held his hand in the receptionist area. When he looked at me again, heat rose on my face, and I directed my gaze to the wall on the other side of the room. "I won't know anything else until I have an x-ray done," he muttered. "I might be out for the rest of the season."

"I'm sorry." I hated those words; they were all I heard after my parents split up, after Allison passed, whenever some new supernatural threat resulted in my injury, but at the moment, I couldn't think of anything else. "I know lacrosse means a lot to you."

Reaching for his hand crossed my mind, but I pushed the thought down.

Movement outside the room drew my eyes, and I was relieved for the distraction. Scott was there at the edge of the doorway, and he inclined his head upon gaining my attention, silently gesturing for me to join him.

I glanced at Liam, who had resumed staring miserably at his ankle.

"I'll be right back," I said.

He nodded, blue eyes following me across the room.

"Thanks," he voiced unexpectedly, just as I reached the doorway. I paused, casting him a questioning look. "For calming me down out in the waiting room," he explained. "And . . . keeping me company in here. You didn't have to."

I looked down, letting my dark hair curtain my face. "You're welcome."

I lingered a moment longer before heading into the hallway.

"Hey," Scott acknowledged. He was hesitant, carefully avoiding my eyes. "How is he?"

I sighed and crossed my arms. "His ankle is definitely broken, but he still needs an x-ray to know more. He could be out for the rest of the season."

Scott continued to look down at the linoleum floors. "The season that hasn't even started yet."

"Broken bones heal," I said gently.

"It shouldn't have happened."

"No," I agreed. His brown eyes finally met mine. "What you did was really irresponsible, Scott, and so unlike you. You could have seriously hurt him, possibly putting him in that wheelchair permanently."

"I know," Scott replied quietly. "Being captain is important to me, but not as important as another person's life. There are enough people getting killed in Beacon Hills . . . I don't need to be making any contributions."

"People not power," I said, smiling faintly as I recalled what Ethan had once told Aiden. Scott doesn't care about power, he cares about people.

Scott blew out a laugh and my smile grew wider. Then Scott's ringtone was filling the comfortable silence that had fallen over us.

He fished his phone out of his front pocket, glancing at the caller ID before pressing it to his ear. "Hey, Lydia. Okay, slow down." I presented Scott with confused look as he stared at me with worried eyes. "I'm here. I'm at the hospital, too."

"What is it, Scott? What's wrong?" I asked after he hung up.

"Sean," he started urgently. "Sean Walcott. Do you remember what floor Mom said he was on?"

"Yeah, the top floor. She went to check on him after leaving Liam," I told him. "Why, what did Lydia say?"

"Go back in the room," Scott said abruptly, backing away, looking like his mind was elsewhere. "Go back in the room and don't come out until I get back."

"Wait, Scott—"

"Go, Joey!" he ordered before running off, leaving me alone in the empty corridor.

All I did was stand there for a moment, attempting to process something of anything that had just unfolded before I hastily dug out my own phone and dialed Lydia's number. I tucked a wayward piece of hair behind my ear as I waited anxiously for her to pick up. I dialed a second time after it went to voicemail. After my third call went unanswered, I sighed and put my phone away.

Finding myself at a loss, I figured listening to my brother would be the logical course of action, so I turned around, intending to head back into Liam's room.

He was hovering right behind me, something I hadn't been expecting, and a frightened yelp left my throat. I stumbled slightly from coming to such an abrupt halt, and with swift athletic reflexes, Liam righted me. His fingers pressed gently into the small of my waist, their warmth searing right through my dress to brand my skin.

"Are you okay?" He was so close that his breath ghosted over my face.

"Fine," I said, breathier than I anticipated. As soon as he dropped his hand, I took a few measured steps away from him. "What are you doing out here? You shouldn't be putting weight on your ankle."

"I thought I heard something," he muttered distractedly, looking down the hall. "Did you?"

I followed his gaze, but saw nothing. "No," I murmured, confused. "I didn't hear anything."

I glanced in the other direction and my breath caught at the sight of Sean Walcott, his mouth and t-shirt drenched in blood. Liam froze in the doorway, staring shell-shocked at the blond-haired boy as he bared his razor sharp teeth at us.

"Back in the room," I stammered out, pushing frantically at Liam's brick wall of a chest. "Back in the room. Liam, go back in the ro—" I screamed as Sean grabbed me around the middle and slammed me into the opposite wall. My head spun, and when his hands came around my neck, I grasped at his wrists, struggling to get free.

The world went dark.

A voice was the first thing I heard.

It was distant and I was unable to understand what it was saying.

My temple was pressed against something cold, and I groaned as it throbbed.

A gentle hand touched my shoulder. "She hit her head after she passed out, but other than that, I think she's okay."

It was Mom. Who was she talking to?

"Joey."

Scott.

"Josephine, can you hear me?"

I slowly opened my eyes, blinking rapidly as I forced my vision to clear.

A fleeting image of bright white eyes flashed in my memory and I shot up, gasping for air. I realized I had been laying on the floor, unconscious.

"Joey, are you okay?" Scott asked, kneeling before me as I scooted back against the wall. "What happened?"

"Sean," I said, my voice hoarse. "Sean, he—"

I thought I heard something.

"What, Joey?"

"Liam," I managed, looking frantically between Scott and Mom. "I was with Liam. Where is he?"

My two family members spared a glance at each other.

"He's okay," Scott said hesitantly. "Well, sort of."

"What do you mean by 'sort of', Scott?" I demanded, panic stirring within me as two Deputy's passed us on their way to the elevator. "Can I see him?"

Mom kept me down when I attempted to stand up. "Honey, you need to be looked at before you do anything or go anywhere."

"Mom, I'm fine," I insisted.

"Just let me give you a quick examination and then Scott can take you home," she said, always the reasonable one.

I begrudgingly consented, and fifteen minutes later, Scott and I were heading out to the parking lot, a helicopter hovering overhead.

"What's going on, Scott?" I asked, now taking notice of all the flashing police vehicles. "What happened while I was out?"

"I'll explain everything once we get home," he promised, tossing me a helmet as he swung a leg over his motocross bike.

I secured my helmet and reluctantly climbed on behind him. I still wasn't entirely comfortable riding on this machine of death. Why couldn't he have bought a sedan?

We arrived at our house shortly, where we were greeted by the sight of Stiles pacing on the front porch.

"I told my dad everything I could," he announced as soon as we reached him. Scott unlocked the front door, flipping on the lights as we followed him inside.

"Did you tell him about Liam?" Scott inquired anxiously.

Dread settled in my stomach like a rock. Had something happened to Liam?

"You barely told me about Liam."

"Wait," I declared firmly. They both paused at the bottom of the stairs to look at me. "What's wrong with Liam?" The two juniors remained silent. "Where is he?"

"He's upstairs," Scott replied quickly. I drew my eyebrows together in confusion.

"Doing what?" Stiles questioned, now appearing to be just as puzzled as I was.

"Um," Scott stalled, as if searching for the right words. "Lying down."

Stiles and I shared a suspicious glance before trailing up the steps after Scott, who led us through his bedroom and into his attached bathroom.

We all came to stop in front of the shower. Stiles and I stared at my brother expectantly as he grasped the curtain. He shook his head once, as if he couldn't believe he was doing this, and pushed it open.

"Scott, what the hell?" I squeaked, at the same moment Stiles muttered an, "Oh, no."

There in Scott's bathtub, bound in duct-tape and looking up at three of us like we were Jason Voorhees about to decapitate him with a chainsaw, was Liam Dunbar.

This was certainly not how I expected my day to end.

A/N: This chapter has been officially edited! If you're a re-reader, you'll notice a lot of changes made. I'm taking Liam and Joey's relationship slower this time around. Like I mentioned before, chapter titles that include a "—" have been edited, so if the following chapters have plot holes or don't make sense, don't worry, I'm fixing it!

Read on, loves!