"True friends are those rare people who come to find you in dark places and lead you back to the light." – Steven Aitchison

"Looks like everything's alright," the elderly ER doctor stepped back, regarding Lacey with a somber expression. "But that young man could have done serious damage. As it stands, you'll have a nice big bump on the back of your head for a few days, and a black eye. And of course, be sure to take care of the cut on your lip and don't let it get infected. Clean it twice a day with peroxide."

But Lacey barely listened to him. "Thank you, I'm okay." Her lip throbbed when she talked. "Can I go see my friend now?"

"Well now that will be up to-oh, hello, Phil! Good to see you." On his way out, the doctor patted Adam's dad's shoulder, the other man suddenly standing in the doorway. Lacey wondered absently if they were golf buddies.

"Roger," Phil nodded, moving to let him pass. "Lacey, how are you?" He regarded her with concern, taking a few steps into the room.

"I'm fine," Lacey shook her head, feeling impatient of people asking her that question. "I just want to see Adam."

"Lacey, what you need is to come home and rest," her mom, who had been mostly silent, piped up from the corner where she sat in an uncomfortable-looking chair, Stuart beside her.

"What your mother said is probably true," Phil agreed. "Adam's going to be fine. He's got a concussion, a dislocated shoulder and a fractured clavicle. Yvette and I are just relieved it's not any worse." He looked over at Stuart then, taking a deep breath. "Sir, I'd like to thank you for intervening when you did. If you hadn't, who knows how much worse it could have been."

"But o' course, Mr. Banks. I joos' did wha' I could," Stuart replied, squeezing Darlene's shoulder. "I grew up on Great Junction Street in Edinburgh-a poor place. We 'ad t'learn t'fend fer ourselves an' ours. I 'eard the shoutin' an' came as fast as I could."

"Good thing he carries a baseball bat in his car," her mom added.

"Old 'abit," Stuart gave a somber smile.

Phil glanced at Lacey then, before continuing to address everyone. "We're pressing charges, and I hope you will, too. This young man needs to be behind bars. I gave him an out once when he trashed Adam's car, but this far exceeds what I'm willing to put up with. He's in custody as we speak. There's still apparently some trouble identifying the other two boys, but it's almost certain they were part of the Rockets, as you said."

"Oh you can bet your ass we're pressing charges," Mom began. "No one is going to hit my daughter and get away with it. But you're right, it definitely could have been worse. And I'm glad Adam will be okay."

"Thank you."

Lacey slid off the examination table. "Mr. Banks, please may I go see him?"

"Yes," Phil reached a hand for a moment as though to steady her if she was off-balance. The act warmed Lacey's heart a little. "I'll take you to him while I go put a call in to my lawyer." He motioned for her to follow him.

"We'll be in th' waitin' room, Lass," Stuart informed her before she left the room, and she merely nodded.

Mr. Banks led her down the hall and made a couple turns before leading her into a cramped room. Lacey's eyes immediately found Adam, who lay motionless in a hospital bed, an IV hooked up to him and bandages covering him from head to toe. At his bedside sat Yvette, Lacey realizing it was the first time she'd ever seen Adam's mom with her hair down and unadorned, without her big earrings and colorful clothes. Instead, Mrs. Banks looked as though she had already gotten ready for bed when she had received the call to come to the hospital. She had very little makeup on and was simply wearing jeans, sneakers, and a sky blue sweatshirt. She looked up tiredly. "Lacey. Come in."

Lacey stepped in and walked slowly over to Adam, watching his thick eyelashes flutter occasionally as he slept.

"He's on a lot of pain meds," Yvette whispered, rubbing her eyes, which were puffy and swollen. "He woke up a little while ago practically screaming in pain. The doctor re-set his shoulder and took x-rays to see the extent of the damage. Looks like, once they've managed his pain a bit better, he'll be released home. There's just nothing that can be done now but to rest while everything heals." She reached up, wiping away a tear and sniffling. "Who does things like this?"

Lacey swallowed, her throat so dry she felt like she could drink a gallon of water right now, but she was unwilling to take the time to find any. "Max has rage issues. I guess he lost control again. And if you ask me, jail is the best place for him," she looked at Yvette dead in the eye. "He's dangerous."

Yvette shook her head. "Lacey, why did you date him?"

"Because I was dumb," she answered swiftly. "And because I didn't know about his anger for the longest time. Once I did, I made excuses for him about his bad home life, his dad's drinking and abuse...I believed him when he said he would get help, and…" she closed her eyes. "It's...it's embarrassing to look back on now."

Yvette watched her, sympathy shining in her eyes as she asked, "Did he ever hurt you?"

"No," Lacey shook her head. "Not until tonight." Turning her attention to Adam, she placed her hand gingerly over his. His left nostril was cut and the area over his right eye was darkening into a bruise. She felt like she couldn't get enough air, covering her face with her hands before hearing the scrape of Yvette's chair as the woman pushed it back and stood up. She came behind Lacey and gently began to rub her shoulders in a maternal gesture. "This is not your fault."

"It is," Lacey turned and embraced Adam's mom, who held her close. "It's absolutely my fault. All of it." Lacey sobbed on her shoulder between words. "Max wouldn't have done it...if not for me, and I… I was afraid it might happen and I tried to stop it…" she hiccuped, her words disjointed and woefully inadequate.

Yvette was quiet, just holding her.

Lacey stood there for a while, just basking in the woman's comfort before she heard rustling and turned around to see Adam fingering over one of his bandages. He reached down for another.

"Adam!" she and Yvette chorused as Lacey leaned over him and his mother rushed to the other side of the bed.

He looked around, confused, then let out a guttural cry of pain that nearly tore Lacey in two.

"Nurse?" Yvette rushed quickly out of the room.

Adam's eyes then met Lacey's, the pupils large and unfocused. "Was it Max?"

So he remembered at least a little bit of what had happened. Lacey nodded, her eyes filling with fresh tears. "It was."

"But there was more than one…"

"Yeah. A couple of his buddies from the team." She stroked his hair back off his forehead.

Adam stared up at her, brow furrowed as he reached up his own hand, placing it gently on her cheek. "Did he hit you?" He then brushed his thumb across the wound on her lip.

"Yeah he did." Lacey nodded, biting her lip but immediately releasing it when she felt the pain of her wound shoot through her face. "He slapped me and my head hit the pavement. Stuart made them bring me here so they could check it, but I'm okay. I promise."

His eyelashes fluttered again. "Wait til I get out of here. It's over for him."

"It already is," she quickly reassured him. "He's in jail, and your dad and my parents are pressing charges. He won't be out for a long time."

Adam tried to sit up but immediately arched, gritting his teeth. "I can't do this. Please, I gotta have something for this pain…"

Lacey knew Adam was pretty tough, so she figured the pain must be slicing into him like a hot knife for him to be this desperate. "Your mom's trying to get you something. Hang in there, okay? Here, squeeze my hand."

He did so, more tightly than Lacey expected, and she winced. "You were so brave," she at last managed to say, reaching her other hand up to gently trace a finger over the eyebrow above his swollen right eye. There was a deep cut there, too, that would probably scar. "And you didn't really have a chance to fight back."

Adam let a deep breath out, closing his eyes, murmuring, "I knew it was coming when I saw them jump out. Um...is the team around?"

"The team? You mean the Ducks?" Lacey asked, then realized it was a stupid question.

"I told them not to worry about coming yet, Honey," his mom answered as she bustled back into the room, a nurse on her heels who carried a syringe. "I promised we'd know more after the ER visit, and that Coach Orion would keep them informed. I'm to let him know when you're up to visitors at home."

Wordlessly the nurse approached Adam's IV and plunged the syringe into the port, giving him a small smile when he looked over.

"Are those my pills?"

"Yes, well," she answered patiently. "It's a pill in IV form."

"Good." He closed his eyes, still clutching Lacey's hand.

"You'll probably start drifting off again in just a few minutes and hopefully be in a lot less pain." The nurse glanced from Lacey to Yvette. "It might be good if he gets some rest before we release him."

Yvette nodded in agreement, picking up her purse from the floor. "I'll run to the waiting room to update my husband, or I might take a walk around. I'm starting to feel stiff. You coming, Lacey?"

Lacey shook her head slightly. "I'd like to stay with him if I can. I'll be quiet, I promise. And I won't bother him."

"I think it would be good for you to get some rest of your own."

"I can rest here. Will you see if my parents will let me call them when he's discharged?" In truth, Lacey could feel her eyelids getting heavy, but there was no way she was going home now.

Yvette hesitated. "Well, I can let them know you want to stay. Whether or not they let you is another thing, but how about I come back and tell you if they don't?"

"Thank you," Lacey looked back at Adam's mom, smiling gratefully. "I just really don't want to leave yet. Especially since I still feel pretty responsible. So if I can stay a little while longer..."

Adam's mom smiled. "You're a good friend to him. Can I bring you anything?"

"No, I'll be fine," Lacey replied, resting her head against the bed rail. "I'll be here when you come back."

"Which I will be in short order," Yvette informed her, her take-charge personality back to life. "I guess I should also ring Coach Orion, so he can update the guys. And girls, of course."

After Yvette left, Lacey turned back to study Adam's face. His expression was peaceful and calm, the medication having apparently soaked up the brunt of his pain. Gently letting go of his hand, she stood to lower the bed rail on her side, taking a moment to figure out exactly how to do it. Once she found the correct piece of metal to pull, it slid down easily, and very, very carefully climbed onto the bed beside Adam. Even though his hurt shoulder was on his other side, she knew jostling the bed could bring him a surge of pain. But she wanted to be as near to him as possible. Never mind that this hospital bed cuddling wasn't nearly as easy as it was in the movies. It was a tight fit, and Lacey awkwardly twisted around to pull the bed rail back up so she could lean back against it without falling off. She then tugged on Adam's pillow very slightly so she would have a place to rest her head. The smell of shampoo from his having showered in the locker room a few hours earlier caused her heart to surge with affection, and she reached down to take his hand, again entwining their fingers. She dared not touch any other part of him because she knew he had to be terribly sore.

She closed her eyes, assuming Adam was already asleep, when he squeezed her hand.

Lacey chuckled. "I thought you were knocked out."

"Almost," he murmured without opening his eyes. "I wanted to tell… about Christmas. What I wanted to say earlier, before this." His words were choppy and slurred, and she could tell it took great effort for him to speak through the sludge of medication. "I didn't kiss you because…" he began to fade off again, but turned his head to the other side as though fighting sleep. "...'cause I can't yet. Not 'cause I don't…" he trailed off.

Lacey watched him, trying to put his words together in her mind. "Adam, it doesn't matter. None of that matters now. I'm just so grateful you're going to be okay."

But he didn't answer, and by the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest, she knew he'd fallen asleep. However, she thought she knew what he was trying to say, and relief coursed through her veins.

It hadn't been that he had an aversion to kissing her. He just wasn't ready. And Lacey could live with that. She could live with anything as long as they stayed friends.

She leaned up and whispered in his ear, "Sleep tight," and nestled close to him as she fell into a hard, dreamless sleep.

"Excuse me, Miss? Miss."

Lacey jarred awake, turning to look up into the round and rosy face of a new nurse.

"I'm going to have to ask you to move. We need to be able to access him by this side of the bed."

"Oh. Um…" Lacey attempted to sit up, but didn't have enough room to do it successfully. "Do you mind lowering the rails?"

The nurse wordlessly flipped the latch and let the bed rail fall, which nearly pitched Lacey into the floor. She reached to grab onto a nearby chair to keep from falling, then dropped herself into it, still exhausted.

The nurse ignored her clumsiness, instead focusing on taking Adam's blood pressure and clipping the oximeter onto his finger. Lacey rubbed her eyes and looked up at the clock. She'd been asleep for an hour.

Adam was still unmoving.

"Is this your boyfriend?" The nurse, not facing her, asked as she focused on switching the nearly empty IV bag for a full one.

"No," Lacey answered flatly, not feeling up to chit-chat, especially with someone who had been so rude a moment ago.

"Hmm," was the nurse's only reply. She leaned over the bed. "Adam?" she practically shouted, as though he was hard of hearing. "Adam? I need you to wake up."

Adam stirred, his eyes opening into slits.

"The doctor's coming to see you one more time and then you're going home. I'm sending your girlfriend to let your parents know, okay?"

Lacey looked away and rolled her eyes.

"Adam?" the nurse's loud voice was insistent.

"O-Okay…," he widened his eyes as though trying to force them to stay open.

"There. Would you like some water?"

"Please," Adam fairly croaked. It never occurred to Lacey to offer him a drink, but the nurse reached over to the bedside table and took up the insulated water pitcher, turning back around and directing the straw into Adam's mouth. He took a very long drink.

"Okay. Now let's stay awake," she repeated, leaving the room again.

Lacey stared after her. "That has to be Hilda's sister."

Adam started to chuckle, then winced. "I can't laugh, it hurts."

She came back over to the bed. "Still in a lot of pain, then?"

"It's not as bad as it was, but still bad."

Suddenly the door opened again and in came Dr. Henry, or "Roger" as Phil called him. "That's because we're going to have to keep pain medicine in you around the clock. You want to schedule it so your last dose doesn't wear off. It'll mean the difference between catching a train at twenty-miles an hour and catching it at fifty-five. Make sense?"

Adam nodded.

The doctor shuffled around some papers he was carrying. "So I've written you a script for two different kinds of pain medications to alternate every two hours until you see the orthopedist next week. We notified their office to call and schedule an appointment for you to check on how things are healing. The thing to remember right now is to take it easy, especially given all of your other contusions. After you see Dr. Reubens, you'll have a better idea of what types of activities you can resume and when you can resume them. He'll probably also schedule you for some physical therapy."

Adam let out a sigh, muttering, "Again with physical therapy..."

"'Fraid so," the doctor folded the papers in half. "I'll hand these to your nurse and she'll take your IV out and get you checked out of here. Your dad coming?"

Nodding absently, Adam asked, "Can I ask you how long you think it'll be before I can play hockey again? Probably like two weeks, right?"

The doctor raised his eyebrows. "More like two to three months in most cases, although sometimes healing can take place in as little as six weeks."

Lacey cringed. Adam's mouth opened, but he seemed unable to speak for a few seconds. Finally he managed, "I'm… I'm sorry, did you say two to three months?"

"I did."

Another few seconds went by. "That can't be true."

"I'm afraid it-"

"No, you don't understand. It cannot take that long for me to heal from this." Adam's voice rose slightly. "Junior league playoffs are in three months. That's my shot at getting the NHL scouts' attention. I can't be out of commission from playing hockey for that long. I have to practice and train and-"

"-And you could be a lucky one to only be on the bench for six weeks. So let's not assume the worst."

"But six weeks is still too long!" Adam looked close to tears.

"Six weeks isn't that bad in the big scheme of things, Adam," Dr. Henry insisted.

"No it is that bad. There's got to be something else you can tell me, something I can do to make this happen faster."

Lacey found herself clutching the sides of her chair. Never before had she seen Adam this emotional.

The doctor finally paused and regarded his patient carefully before taking off his glasses and tucking them into his lab coat pocket, pulling the chair next to Lacey over to sit down on. "Son, I don't know if you know this or not, but your dad and I are old friends. I remember when you and your brother were born, so you'd better believe I've kept up with you. Your dad told me years ago that you've got your eye on playing pro hockey, is that true?"

"Yeah." Adam's voice weakened as he fought for composure.

"Well let's have a frank discussion, you and I. It seems here, under the list of medical conditions, your mom told the nurse you suffer from rheumatoid arthritis."

Adam blinked. "Well, that's… I mean, Dr. Bartlett only thinks so, we're not a hundred percent sure yet."

Dr. Henry nodded. "It can be tough sometimes to diagnose. But your x-rays do show a lot of inflammation to that end, so I figure he's probably correct about that. You've dislocated your shoulder and fractured your clavicle Adam. The hard thing about those injuries is the fact that the pain often resurfaces at random times, and it's very easy to injure both of those places again. I think you should ask yourself if working toward the NHL is worth wrecking your body over."

Adam just stared at the doctor in disbelief, either unwilling or unable to answer the question.

Dr. Henry went on. "RA would be difficult to manage while playing a tough contact sport like hockey on a professional level, anyway. Now that you've got injuries that will likely always cause you a little bit of trouble, especially with those inflamed joints, I'm not sure you understand exactly what you're up against. And now I know, I know." He raised his hand before Adam could speak. "Young bucks like you would say, 'I don't care! I'm gonna do what I want anyway!' but what I would ask of you is one thing."

Adam was silent, his eyes now averted from Dr. Henry's.

"One thing, Son," Dr. Henry went on. "And that one thing is to just think about something you think you could possibly be as passionate about as hockey. You may pick humanitarian efforts, you may pick dentistry, you may pick underwater basket weaving. My point is, there must be something, and it needs to be part of a backup plan for your future. Hey, even if I'm wrong and you march into the NHL with bells on, even professional sportsmen have to have a secondary interest. After all, you retire most of the time in your thirties."

Lacey took a deep, but silent, breath, looking back to Adam. He was staring at the floor, fidgeting with the edge of a bandage on his arm.

"Think it through, alright?" The doctor stood up. "I wish you well. I'll be checking in with your dad on your progress" With that, he walked out.

Lacey was glued to the spot as she sat in silence. Adam seemed to be processing what Dr. Henry had said, his own emotions, or both. Finally, he reached for the bedside table with his good arm and grabbed a tissue out of a box, bringing it up to cover his face.

"Oh, Adam. Oh God, I'm so sorry." She stood quickly at this and went over to him, able to tell from his trembling shoulders that he was weeping. "Listen. He might be a doctor, but he doesn't need to weigh in on your hockey career. Don't worry about all that stuff he said."

Adam responded after wiping his tears. "He knows about shoulder injuries, Lacey."

"But he can't tell you to just give up like that," Lacey protested. "Hey. If we work hard and get you better in six weeks, that's still over a month before the junior league playoffs. You'll probably be as good as new by then and back on the ice in time to catch up with practice. Everything's going to be o-"

"Don't." Adam held up his good hand, still clutching the crumpled tissue. "Please don't say everything's going to be okay. You don't know that. Nobody knows that."

"But I do, Adam," she knelt on the ground in front of him so she could try to meet his eyes. "I believe in who you are, and I believe that if anyone could beat odds like these, you can. And even if you don't, you're such a force to be reckoned with that anything else you set your mind to do you could…" but she trailed off, noticing how his eyes still welled with tears and he was unable to meet her gaze.

"You know," she began again, softly. "You don't need more words from anybody right now. Just feel what you feel." Lacey remembered Dr. Hemby using that exact phrase with her once, and in this moment, she finally understood it. "Let me go find your mom, okay?"

"Okay," he whispered, reaching for another tissue.

Lacey stood back up and went to find Yvette. She had no idea what to do or say to Adam, but what she figured he needed most was for her to just listen if he wanted to talk about his devastation, or give him space if he didn't.

She made her way to the waiting room which was where she found Yvette, curled up in one of the narrow chairs, asleep. Phil sat next to her reading the newspaper, which amazed Lacey. It was three in the morning, and they were all exhausted. Except for, apparently, him She approached the couple quietly in order not to startle Yvette awake. As she came close, Phil put down his paper and took off his reading glasses.

"Everything still okay?," he inquired in his business voice.

"He's being released. They gave him pain meds and a referral to the orthopedic doctor," Lacey replied. "And… I should tell you, he wasn't very happy when Dr. Henry told him how long it's going to take for him to heal from this. He's worried about the Junior League Playoffs."

Phil sighed, leaning forward to rub his forehead. "I was afraid of that. Honey?" He turned to Yvette, gently shaking her.

Yvette sat up, immediately alert. "What is it? What happened?"

"Everything's fine. He's ready to go home." In a tender gesture, Phil reached out and pushed a loose lock of hair from Yvette's face. "I'm going to go back and help him get out to the car. Do you want to pull it around?"

"Sure," she yawned, still trying to reorient herself.

"I can go help him get settled, then I'll call Stuart to pick me up." Lacey wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the freezing cold of the waiting room all too keenly.

"There's no need for you to do that, Lacey. We'll drop you off."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Yvette nodded. "Now tell me what the doctor said again?"

On the way to her house, Lacey sat in the backseat with Yvette, her mind reeling as she thought back over the events of the night.

Despite what people said to her, she knew this was her fault. Max never would have gone after Adam had she not dumped him, and if she'd been responsible enough and not half as clueless, they wouldn't have been together as long as they were. But as it was, she kept giving him chance after chance to turn into the kind of guy she wanted him to be. And now…

This.

Adam might be giving up his biggest dream all because he'd allowed her to become his friend.

"Okay, here we are. Feel free to drop by whenever you like, to check on him and maybe keep him entertained," Yvette smiled tiredly as Phil nodded in the rearview mirror as he pulled in front of her house.

"Sure. And thank you," Lacey returned the smile as best she could. "Adam, feel better soon, okay?"

It was a lame thing to say, but right now, she wasn't sure what words wouldn't be.

"Okay. Thanks," he replied, his eyes still closed, head against the headrest. "For everything."

Lacey headed inside, intending to head straight up to her bed, but she was stopped by her mom.

"Hi," Darlene yawned from her seat in the living room recliner.

"Hey, Mom. It's like almost four o'clock. Did you sleep there?"

"Yeah," her mom replied wearily.

Lacey rubbed her good eye. "You should have gone up and slept."

"I wasn't going to sleep until you were home," her mom pushed herself up. "I wanted to be sure you didn't need anything."

I need you, Lacey thought, and suddenly closed the distance between them, throwing her arms around her mother.

Contrary to her nature, Darlene was quick to embrace her in return, patting her back. "Honey, I know you. You're blaming yourself for this, but don't. No one could have known Max would go this batshit crazy, even me."

Lacey rested her head on her mom's shoulder, closing her eyes and wishing she could just fall asleep right there. "I'm not sure Adam will be the same again physically. He has a bruised clavicle and a dislocated shoulder. That puts his hockey career at stake."

"Okay. Lacey?" her mom pulled around to face her. "Making the pros is a pipe dream. I don't care how good Adam is, what his coaches say and all that BS, but the fact is, nobody from around here has ever been drafted into the NHL. Especially right out of high school. And this is the hockey capital of the U.S."

"But Mom, he's a truly amazing player. Do we need to discount his chances just because no one we know has done it before?" Lacey felt defensive.

Darlene balked before rolling her eyes. "All right then, maybe not. I'm just saying, he needs a backup plan. That's a lot of eggs to put in one basket."

"I know," Lacey sighed. "But I want to support his dream. And I want to support him if it falls through. Whether or not he was being realistic in the first place isn't for me to judge."

Her mom gazed at her for a moment, then smiled. "Yeah, I know. That's what makes you a good friend. You're always loyal." With that, she leaned in and gave a quick forehead kiss. "Now. Go up and get some sleep."

"You too," Lacey raised her eyebrows.

"Oh I'm ahead of you there. I told Stuart he was on breakfast duty this morning."

Lacey chuckled, turning to head up the stairs. When she got to her room, she took a couple of deep breaths, sinking down onto her bed. Her lip was sore, her eye was throbbing, and she was exhausted.

But she had been there for Adam. She might not have been able to stop Max, but she had been with her friend when he had been attacked by her psycho ex, then at the hospital when he received hard news about the now-weakened bones in his shoulder. And she would be there for him in whatever way she could be now, if he'd let her. And the fact that he hadn't kissed her at Christmas mattered so little now. Adam was a true friend. A boyfriend was cheap, but she'd never had what she had with Adam before, and she wasn't prepared to lose the best friend she'd ever made.

Mind spinning, Lacey finally fell into a fitful sleep.

Everyone was as good as gold to her when she woke up at 2pm that day. Stuart took her to Denny's for pancakes, and her mom asked if she'd like to go get a manicure. Of course she didn't, even though she appreciated the thought. Sunday went much the same way, and at some point it occurred to her that her family was not only trying to pamper her after what had happened Friday, but arm her for what she would be facing on Monday.

The return to school almost induced a panic attack, but Lacey managed to get it under control after taking one of her prescribed emergency nerve pills. She opened her closet and realized that for some reason, her usual short plaid skirts, jumpers, and crisp, preppy white tops didn't appeal one bit to her, nor did her big hoops and dangly earrings. Instead, she grabbed out a pair of jeans and a plain wool sweater, opting out of jewelry and only making up with a couple of coats of mascara and some face powder.

When she headed downstairs, Halen looked at her, wide-eyed. "Do you have a service project at school today?"

"What? No." Lacey poured a glass of orange juice and drank it down quickly.

"You're wearing sneakers, and your hair isn't fixed."

Lacey put her glass in the sink and looked over at Halen, annoyed. "Yes it is!" She reached back and patted her half-ponytail.

"I mean you always fix your hair like Rachel. And you never, ever wear sneakers on a weekday," Halen put a hand on her hip.

"Halen? Look at me." She gave Halen a good stare, fully aware of how terrible her black eye and sliced lip must look. "What's the point in putting on airs for people after all this? I mean honestly. The show is over."

Halen was quiet as Lacey grabbed her backpack and her keys.

"What's wrong with her? She looks fine!" Ariel took the stairs two at a time. "She doesn't have to be Barbie every day, you know."

Halen wrinkled her nose, looking between her sisters. "Since when are you guys best friends?"

"I'm just saying it's nice to see her looking real. Unlike you."

"Ariel," Lacey admonished, "don't pick on her."

The fact was, Lacey noticed how Halen had been dressing this year - a lot like her. Had she created a little monster out of her sister from all the primping and people-pleasing she had done over the years?

She dropped her sisters off at middle school before heading over to the high school. The minute the car entered the parking lot, the stares began.

And they didn't stop.

Nor did the whispers, which were mostly pitying. But some was just old-fashioned gossip.

Poor Lacey, dating an abusive guy for so long. She probably felt like she couldn't get away.

Did you see him punch her?! I heard he knocked her two feet into the air.

Had you heard that Banks has a brain bleed, a ruptured spleen and both his kneecaps were knocked in?

Yeah, well I heard he held Lacey in front of him for protection.

Luckily she had prepared herself for these reactions, and tried not to take any of the them personally. Her only comfort came from Davy catching her eye in the hallway to give her a weak but supportive smile.

The police, prompted to action by Mr. Banks, spent the weekend interviewing each of the hockey team members in order to try to identify the other two boys who assaulted Adam. It was unclear whether they had been successful in their attempts or not until news bulletins were passed around an hour before school ended, updating the students on the latest developments:

Coach Rhinehardt had been terminated due to being fully aware his underage star player was imbibing alcohol before the game on Friday-and many others previous to it-and still allowing him on the ice.

The perpetrators responsible for helping Max Shipley carry out his attack on an opposing team member were quietly arrested earlier in the day.

(By then, everyone knew they were Drew Taylor and Clay Bernstein.)

The Rockets would be forfeiting the hockey season.

All of these things granted Lacey plenty of satisfaction, and that's what she held onto as she emotionally limped through the rest of the school day.

She had talked on the phone over the weekend to Alice, who had already heard the story on the local news channel. Lacey hadn't felt like going into a lot of detail about what exactly had happened, and the woman didn't press her. She simply told Lacey to take a few days to rest up and not worry about coming in to work until she was ready. Usually caring for the cats served as a good distraction, but this week Lacey wanted to pour what little energy she had into another cause.

When she dropped the twins off at home after school, she went to the hall closet and loaded her arms with board games.

"I'll be back in a little while, Guys," she called to them. But they were lackluster in their response. It had recently been decided by Stuart and Mom that the girls were old enough to stay on their own now for short periods of time.

Lacey had given Adam the weekend to recover both physically and emotionally, electing not to even call him. He was doubtlessly traumatized after having been beaten within an inch of his life and, to boot, told he wouldn't likely be playing very much hockey before the Junior League Games. If at all. She assumed, and even hoped, that the team had been by to visit him, bolstering his spirits and promising to help him retrain after the brunt of his injury had healed.

And as for her, she couldn't, she wouldn't, let him disappear into a fog of depression.

So it was with this thought that Lacey drove across town and hauled her big stack of board games to the front door, where she just barely managed to press the doorbell.

The door opened and an unfamiliar face appeared behind it. "Can I help you?" the woman inquired.

"Oh. Um…" Lacey had been expecting Yvette. "I'm Adam's friend Lacey, and I wanted to come visit him if that's okay?"

The woman hesitated. "I have to go ask. You can come wait in the foyer, though. Looks like you have your arms full."

"Yeah," Lacey chuckled, following her in.

"I'm Lynn, the housekeeper," the woman, in her forties with long, sweeping hair and high cheekbones introduced herself with a faint smile. "I'll be back momentarily."

Lacey sat down in a straight-back chair underneath the window and waited. Finally Lynn returned. "He just woke up for the day, so he said, and I quote, 'I want to brush my teeth first'."

Lacey's mouth dropped open. "You mean he's been asleep all day long?"

"I'm afraid so," Lynn shook her head. "Yvette's at an art show today and left him in my care, but I couldn't get him awake long enough to put a good meal in him. I'm sure it's all his pain medication."

Lynn spoke with a slight Southern accent, and Lacey wondered where she was from.

"I can wait a few minutes then," she smiled.

"I'd better go back up there and make sure he doesn't need anything. You'd be amazed at how the simplest things turn hard when you've broken a shoulder, or whatever. I'll let you know when we're finished."

It turned out to be nearly twenty minutes before Lacey, still holding the board games, was given the go-ahead to enter Adam's room.

He sat in bed wearing a white button-up shirt and gray athletic pants, which seemed an odd combination, and his face looked only mildly better today than it had on Friday night. But Lacey could tell his hair was freshly combed and, she assumed, teeth brushed.

"Hey!" She greeted him brightly, setting the games down on his desk and turning to him. "Dare I ask how you're doing?"

Adam lifted his good shoulder in a shrug. "You can ask."

The message was received loud and clear. Lacey grabbed his desk chair and pulled it over to him, trying to think of what to say first.

She cleared her throat. "Is it hard to get dressed?"

She had no idea why that, of all questions, came out. But Adam was nonplussed. "Yeah, it is. So I'm doing button-up shirts for now." He glanced away. "Lacey, you didn't have to come. Not that I'm not glad to see you, but I'm not exactly great company right now."

Lacey reached out and patted his knee. "That's why I'm here. I want to get your mind off all this for a little while." She stood up. "I've got…" she held up each game as she introduced it… "Life, which Mom never seems to get through without having to have a second car to haul all her 'kids'. Battleship which I suck at. Scrabble for clever people like you and Stuart. Monopoly which I am guaranteed to crush you in; and…" she held up the last one.

Adam stared, then read, "Mall Madness. Are you kidding?"

"Nope," Lacey laid it down. "It's my favorite. And if you get too negative, I'm whipping it out. Got it?"

The corners of Adam's mouth lifted a little. "Noted."

She came over and sat back down for a moment. "I do want to cheer you up and keep you busy. But first, I just want to say… since we weren't able to really talk after this whole thing happened… that I'm sorry. About Max, and the fact that it happened because you and I became friends. I didn't know-"

"Lacey, it isn't your fault," he interrupted. "That guy's a loose cannon, and he hated me long before you came on the scene. Guess he just couldn't keep it to himself anymore."

"I'm glad I was there with you." She felt inclined to take his hand again, but she'd done plenty of that over their last couple of encounters. "That you weren't alone. And more than anything, that Stuart came when he did. You could have been killed."

"Yeah, I knew Max forgot to do something," Adam rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious, Adam. But if you don't want to talk about it right now, we won't. Okay?"

Adam reached up to rub his temple, still appearing very tired. "Yeah, let's go with that. Because for now, I'm sick of even thinking. So let's play Battleship."

"I just told you I suck at Battleship, and that's what you pick." Lacey went to retrieve it, coming back over to see Adam staring at her, smiling slightly.

"What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious. "I mean, I didn't feel up to doing a lot of extra to myself today…" she reached up to smooth her hair, which had turned frizzy since it hadn't been meticulously styled with her big barrel curling iron.

"I wasn't thinking that at all," he answered." I was actually thinking that I like how you look today. Just… I don't know, normal. Fresh."

Lacey felt her cheeks warm a bit. "Well how kind. Halen pretty much told me that I looked like a federal emergency this morning."

He chuckled. "Well, I guess that's Halen. But really, I mean it. All except for…" his expression darkened.

"Oh. Yeah." Lacey reached up instinctively for her lip, having forgotten for just a little while that the right side of her face looked so bad.

"You know, if that asshole was bent on taking me down, whatever. Not that I'm happy about it, obviously, but I'm not surprised. But for him to hit you like that… I'm just saying he'd better be glad I didn't see it."

"Adam," Lacey smiled. "You weren't exactly in the best position to defend me."

"Maybe not. But it wouldn't have gone well for him. And it wouldn't now if he wasn't in jail."

"But you know what?" She opened the Battleship box and started taking out the game. "He is. And he doesn't get to take up any more space in either of our lives than he already has. Now we're playing Battleship."

And they did, all evening. It was surprisingly fun, and Adam made it alot easier to understand the rules. They switched to Scrabble once, only to go back to Battleship. Lynn brought them both up grilled cheeses, and Lacey stayed until long after dinner. Yvette wasn't due home until late, but Phil showed up and stuck his head in the door just long enough to say hello. After Lynn went home, Lacey had to retrieve Adam's pain meds which his mom was keeping in her medicine cabinet. She hoped they hadn't laughed together too much and caused a pain flair for him, but he said it had been about six hours since he'd last taken it.

"That's good! Is your pain easing up a little bit each day?," she inquired as she handed him a glass of water to wash the tablet down.

"Some." He passed it back to her after swallowing. "Tomorrow Mom wants me to try to get up and walk around some. It just hurts so freakin' bad to move I'm dreading it."

"Adam, listen." Lacey set the glass on his nightstand. "I know like nothing about hockey, and even less about physical fitness. But I'm going to help you. With as much of it as I can. We can do your physical therapy exercises together, and when you're well enough to skate and train again, I'll be right there beside you. Even if it means getting up at six every morning to go with you to run bleachers."

"I'm actually at the rink every morning by five," a flicker of mischief appeared in his eye. "And who knew you did any running?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Haha, yes, I know I'm out of shape. But how hard can it possibly be to turn that around? I'm telling you, I'm committed. One hundred percent, anything you need."

"You can drive me places. That'll look alot less lame than my mom shuttling me around. We can even take my car since you're so good at driving a straight drive."

He was still being smart with her, but she loved seeing his humor resurface. "Okay, I do not know how to drive a straight drive, so let me revise my statement: I can do almost anything you need. When are you going back to school?"

Adam winced. "I think Wednesday. I'm so not ready to be the center of attention over this, but it's pretty inevitable. Charlie, Fulton and Jesse came by yesterday and said they'll do whatever they can to help when I come back, so I might recruit a couple to help me carry books. Luis and Guy and I have a lot of the same classes."

"Have them put those strapping hockey player muscles to good use," she smirked.

"Oh and uh…" he paused. "Jesse told me you'd tried to get him to hang back that night."

"Yeah. I did try, but…" Lacey instinctively brought her fingers to her mouth.

Adam reached out and gently pulled her hand away before her teeth could tear into her nails again. "Lacey…"

"I'm sorry, I…" she swallowed back a sob that nearly took her by surprise. "...I'll just never forget how scared I was."

"But it's over, okay?" he continued to hold her hand for a moment. "We just have to push past it, which is a hell of alot easier said than done. I'm doing a pretty terrible job of it myself. The only reason I even mention it is to say, thanks again for all you went through to keep this from happening. And believe me, the team knows now."

Lacey felt her heart lift a little. "Really?"

"Yeah. I think you'll find most of them a lot nicer the next time you run into them. I mean, the girls already like you, but the rest of them will probably be more open in the future."

She smiled. "I've done a pretty good job then, haven't I? We've done a good job. Of showing people we can be friends. Despite the whole Rockets versus Ducks thing, and rich boy poor girl dynamic."

Adam furrowed his brow. "I never even knew that part was a problem."

"Yeah, well it was mainly just with my mom," she rolled her eyes. "She's faced some...what would you call it?...class prejudice during her lifetime. Anyway, I just think we've kind of overcome a lot already, and," she shrugged. "It's cool we still want to hang out after everything."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Yeah. Guess it is."

Lacey went home that night with the first positive feelings she'd had in a month. Adam's presence always infused her with strength, almost like he passed on some of his own. As devastating as that terrible night had been-and she would give anything to be able to take it back-it had still found a way to mend her and Adam's friendship.

And for that she was so, so grateful.