"I was ridin' shotgun with my hair undone in the front seat of his car. He's got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on my heart.I look around, turn the radio down. He says, "Baby, is something wrong?" I say, "Nothing, I was just thinking how we don't have a song"
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow on the winding road as the family car cruised along. The melody of Taylor Swift's "Our Song" filled the air, and Sophia couldn't help but sing along, her voice intertwining with the rhythmic hum of the engine.
"I swear this girl, Taylor Swift, is going to go far if she keeps this up. She's only 16 and she's already playing on almost every radio station in the country."
"I like it when you sing, mom," Isaac expressed happily, munching on his snacks. His words carrying a genuine sense of wonder. "Do you think I'll ever sing like you?"
The unexpected question prompted raised eyebrows and exchanged glances between his parents. Jacob chuckled, meeting his son's gaze in the rearview mirror. "Buddy, I thought you wanted to be an ice hockey player like your old man."
Isaac shrugged, gazing out of the window where the sun was casting its final, warm hues across the landscape. The first stars of the evening began to twinkle in the sky. "I mean, yeah but I wouldn't mind being a famous singer like Mom. I can be both, right?."
Sophia, turning to face her son with a tender smile, assured him, "Honey, you can be whatever you want. Your father and I will be supporting you whatever you decide." As the journey stretched ahead, the night descended, and fatigue began to settle in, "It's late, and we still have two hours of travel left. Why don't you get some sleep? We'll wake you up when we get there."
"M'not tired," Isaac mumbled, punctuating his words with a yawn.
"Ace, champ, you're yawning. Listen to your mother and sleep."
Battling his drowsiness, their son pleaded, "But I want to keep listening to mom sing, Mom, sing, please."
Sophia chuckled, "Just one song, and then you go to sleep, okay?" With a nod, the hazel-eyed boy agreed, sinking into the comfort of the car's interior as the journey continued, lullabied by the soothing cadence of his mother's voice.
Glancing into the rearview mirror, Sophia couldn't help but marvel at her son slumbered peacefully in the backseat, his tousled hair and relaxed features painted with the innocence of a child lost in dreams, a contented smile gracing his lips.
"He's already asleep," she whispered, a tender pride in her voice as she observed the little dreamer.
Beside her, Jacob leaned back slightly in his seat, the warm breeze of the summer night ruffling his hair as he rolled the car windows slightly, "So, a singer, Collins? Are you attempting to lure my son to the dark side? He's destined for the NHL, just like his father."
Sophia's smile took on an air of playful arrogance. "My son would make an excellent singer, Hargrave. Let me remind you, which one of us has a Grammy? Oh right, you don't. I do. So, shut up."
Undeterred, the man corrected her with a chuckle, "It's a nomination." Amusement twinkled in his eyes as he continued, "That's essentially the same as nothing. I, on the other hand, have two Stanley Cups, and during high school, the Bulldogs were undefeated champions, thanks to who? To me."
"I hate it when you get cocky."
"But you love it," he countered, his voice laced with affection. "You married a champion, my love. And mark my words, Ace will be one too. The coach spoke to me, and he believes that in the long run, our son could be an even better player than me."
"Do you think we did the right thing by returning to Fairbrook?"
Jacob, his eyebrows arching in curiosity, responded with a quizzical tone, careful not to disturb the peaceful slumber of their son, "What's prompting this question now?"
"It's just... I spoke to Sab the other day, and she showed me a photo of the twins and Jay. The last time I saw them, they were about five, and now it's been seven years. Don't you miss them?"
Her eyes lost in the night, Sophia continued, "Forget it, I don't know what's wrong with me."
Reaching out, Jacob's hand found its place on her knee, a tender squeeze reassuring her. "Hey, hey," he comforted, "I like it when you share these thoughts with me, Soph. We're married. We're supposed to talk about these things. Of course, I miss them too. Sometimes FaceTime calls just don't cut it. But you and I decided to raise Isaac in Fairbrook."
"We're all supposed to be best friends, right? Jayden and Gabrielle are our godchildren, and we haven't seen them in seven years. Sending gifts at Christmas and on their birthdays doesn't make up for it."
A touch of nostalgia crept into her voice as she rested her hand atop Jacob's. "What if we consider moving when Isaac starts high school?"
Her husband let out an amused snort, his fingers intertwining with hers. "And make him leave Lucy behind? Yeah, not happening."
"Surely we can talk to Russ and Judy, persuade them?"
Jacob's voice softened, carrying the weight of pragmatism. "They're not as well off as us, Soph. Moving to New York isn't something they can do overnight. I get where you're coming from. You think Isaac should spend less time with Lucy, bring other friends home, but we can't do anything. He likes having her around, and he's happy like that. That's the only thing that should matter to us."
"Hey, Wolf," Alexander Hayes' voice echoed through the sleek interior of the car, bouncing off the leather seats. The hum of the engine created a steady backdrop to their conversation. The soft glow of the dashboard lights bathed Jacob in a warm ambiance as he focused on navigating the early morning traffic of the bustling city."Where the fuc—"
Seated in the driver's seat, he adjusted his grip on the supple, leather-wrapped steering wheel with a sense of controlled precision. His eyes, a reflection of determination, occasionally flicked to the rearview mirror, momentarily breaking away from the road ahead. "Language," he scolded in a fatherly tone, "Besides, keep your voice down; Soph and Ace are sleeping."
As the car smoothly maneuvered through the cityscape, the GPS screen embedded in the center console emitted a soft, radiant glow, displaying the route to their destination. "Where the fridge are you? Happy now?" his friend asked again, urgency lacing his voice, disrupting the otherwise calm ambiance of the car. "We're waiting for you for breakfast. Change cars because it's taking a long time to get here."
"I've still got half an hour to get there," Jacob reported, his gaze shifting to the glowing GPS screen. "I had forgotten how crazy the traffic was in this city."
"That's New York for you, baby. Anyway, how's Cub doing at the ice rink?"
"It's quite disturbing to hear you call my son that" Jacob murmured, a playful twinkle in his eyes as he negotiated the traffic. His brow furrowed in a mix of amusement and disbelief. "But he's doing well; he's made the cut, and he's a Bulldogs center like his father."
"First of all, he's my godson, and your name is Wolf, and therefore, your son is Cub, duh," Alec declared with conviction, his tone making it sound like an indisputable fact. "Second of all, that's my boy! When I see him, I'll congratulate him."
"What about my godson? Is he a player too, King?"
"Damn right he is," Jacob could almost see Alec's proud grin as his voice dripped with paternal pride . "He's going to make your son bite the dust, you'll see."
A smirk tugged at the corners of Jacob's lips as he chuckled, "You forget who you're talking to, Hayes. My son could beat your son blindfolded."
"I've missed you, JJ."
"Me too, Alec. Me too," The man sighed, his gaze shifting momentarily from the conversation to Sophia, who was peacefully asleep in the passenger's seat.
"How are Sonny, Sab, and the twins?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.
"Gaby is nervous about starting middle school, and Ash, Ash doesn't give a fudge. Love that little guy." This time, Alec refrained from swearing, a conscious effort that drew a chuckle from him.
Just as he poised himself to resume the conversation, the world around him abruptly shifted. In the blink of an eye, the tranquility was shattered as the disconcerting screech of tires and the deafening impact of metal meeting metal pierced the air.
"Hey, man, are you okay?" Alec's concerned voice crackled through the phone, the static and distant noises on the line creating an unsettling backdrop. He pressed the phone tighter to his ear, straining to catch every word. "I can't hear you over the noise, what were you saying?"
A heavy silence lingered, prompting him to repeat himself with a nervous chuckle. "Are you there or have you fallen asleep?" An anxious edge crept into his tone as minutes ticked by without a response. "Jacob"
The stillness persisted until, suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the void. "Dad?" His heart skipped a beat as he immediately recognized his godson's voice.
"Ace, it's me. Can you tell your father to pick up the phone for me?"
The next words he heard sent shivers through him, freezing his blood in its veins. "Dad, wake up! Mom! Mom!" Isaac's sobs reached through the connection making Alec turn pale. He involuntarily took the cell phone away from his ear, his stomach churning. The reality of the situation manifested in his body, and he doubled over, retching onto the unforgiving asphalt beneath him.
"Honey, are you okay?" The soothing voice of his wife, Bailey, reached his ears, though it felt distant amidst the disorienting ringing that engulfed his senses.
"It can't be, it's not true," he muttered, his eyes unfocused. "None of this is real."
"Bro, you're worrying us," Mason's concerned voice cut through the disarray. "What's wrong? Are they coming yet?"
Alec slowly raised his gaze, finding the worried expressions etched on the faces of his wife, son, and best friends—Mason, Sabrina, and their twins. His breath came in rapid gasps, and he fought against the rising nausea threatening to overwhelm him.
"Someone call an ambulance."
"Wait, what?" Sabrina's confusion echoed in her voice. "Alexander Hayes, explain yourself right now."
"SOMEONE CALL A FUCKING AMBULANCE!" The desperation in his voice erupted like a storm. "I was talking to JJ on the phone, and suddenly, I heard a noise, but I gave it no thought. And then...And then…"
Alec's gaze drifted, his mind replaying the harrowing moments in vivid detail. His wife approached him, gently wiping away his tears. Wait, when the fuck had he started crying?
"Honey, calm down; you're scaring the kids," she urged, her voice a steadying force. With a sharp intake of breath, he felt the weight of the situation bear down on him. "What happened after talking to Jacob?"
"Ace—" he murmured, his legs giving way as he sank to the ground. "Isaac started crying, calling for JJ and Soph. I think... I think they might be dead."
Sabrina's heart pounded in her chest as the words pierced the air, the gravity of their meaning crashing down on her like a tidal wave. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and before she could comprehend the devastating truth, a horrified scream tore from her throat.
"Lies, you're lying," she gasped, vehemently shaking her head, blonde locks falling in disarray around her tear-streaked face. The world seemed to blur as denial and despair waged war within her. They're not gone. They're not dead.
Alec, rising from the ground with a heavy heart, moved swiftly to enveloped her in a comforting embrace. His arms encircled her trembling form providing a fragile shield against the overwhelming sorrow. In hushed tones, he murmured consoling words, a feeble attempt to soften the impact of the harsh reality.
"Sab, I'm so so sorry," he whispered, the words carrying the weight of the shared grief. His eyes mirrored the sorrow etched across her face. Meanwhile, Mason's gaze bore into Bailey, shock written across his features, his jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to restrain the impending flood of tears.
"Should I…Should I call, or should you?"
Bailey, wiping away her own tears, met her son's gaze with a mix of sorrow and determination. Her eyes darted between Mason and her nephews, who stood nearby, their expressions a tumultuous blend of confusion and sadness.
"You call," she urged, giving him a wry smile, "and I'll take the kids to buy some ice cream."
Nodding, the dark-skinned man blinked back tears and took a moment to compose himself. With a heavy heart, he lifted his phone and dialed, his voice breaking the morning stillness, "Good morning...I'd…I'd like to report an accident..."
"WHERE IS HE?"
The sterile ambiance of the hospital lobby was shattered by Alec's anguished voice, resonating through the once-quiet corridors. His footsteps echoed with urgency as he stormed toward the reception desk, Mason trailing closely behind. The blonde's piercing brown eyes seemed to darken to an ominous black as he approached the young man seated behind the desk.
"TELL ME WHERE THE FUCK HE IS," he hissed, a volatile mixture of anger and sorrow evident in his voice.
"Sir, I need you to calm down or I'll have to call security and ask them to escort you out," the receptionist warned, glancing toward a looming security guard who was already moving in their direction.
Alec gritted his teeth, taking a moment to massage the bridge of his nose and gather himself. "I'm looking for Jacob, Sophia, and Isaac Hargrave," he stated with a controlled intensity, his eyes drilling into the receptionist.
The young man at the desk began typing on the computer. Mason watched his best friend, concern etched across his face, aware that Alec was on the brink of unraveling. The impending news threatened to break his friend from the inside out.
Finally, the receptionist spoke with a heavy sigh, his eyes conveying a somber confirmation. "Mr. Hayes, Isaac Hargrave was admitted to this hospital about twenty minutes ago." His apologetic gaze lingered, conveying the unsaid. "However, I am not aware of Jacob or Sophia Hargrave's admission."
Alec's shoulders slumped as the weight of the news settled on him. The room seemed to close in, and Mason moved closer, ready to offer support. "Where's my wife?" his voice dropped to a whisper. He appeared suddenly aged, the burden of grief visible in his features.
His friend took a deep breath, embracing his friend as if shielding him from the impending storm. "Baile's with the kids. She's making a couple of calls in case we have to give a statement. The press will swarm once it's on the news." He spoke softly, "Sab's on her way."
Sensing Alec's inability to articulate his thoughts, Mason turned to the young man at the desk, "Isaac, can we see him? Which floor is he on?"
"He's admitted to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. Are either of you his legal guardians? If not, you'll have to wait for his legal guardian to arrive before visiting."
Alec, his voice hoarse yet resolute, responded, "It's me. I'm his godfather."
The receptionist nodded empathetically. "In that case, if you continue straight down the hallway, you'll reach the PICU. Dr. Thompson is the one in charge. Ask for her, and she'll provide you with the details you need."
Both men nodded and, with slow steps, followed the receptionist's instructions. The hallway was short but seemed eternal to them. Their feet felt like lead, and their footsteps seemed to echo as they approached.
"We're here for Dr. Thompson," Alec uttered wearily as they reached the counter, where two women were engrossed in studying a screen. His head pulsed with a relentless ache. "I'm Isaac Hargrave's godfather. He was admitted to this unit about 20 minutes ago."
The brunette raised her head, her expression a mix of professionalism and empathy. A small, reassuring smile played on her lips as she identified herself. "I'm Dr. Thompson. You must be Alexander Hayes. We've been expecting you."
The woman slowly pivoted on her heels, her footsteps echoing in the sterile hospital corridor as she extended her hands in a gesture of reassurance, her eyes carrying a mix of empathy and professional composure. In a measured tone, she addressed them,
"I'm not going to lie, Isaac was incredibly fortunate. When the paramedics extricated him from the twisted wreckage of the car, it was nothing short of a miracle that the force of the impact spared his spinal cord. Miraculously, he's only has a broken arm and some fractured ribs – injuries that are unfortunately commonplace in situations like these."
"Can we go in and see him? His godmother is on the way."
Dr. Thompson nodded in understanding, her demeanor softening, "He's currently in an induced coma. Isaac wasn't responsive during the entirety of the journey to the hospital, and I must prepare you for the fact that this induced state may persist for days, or possibly even months. His vital signs are stable, a positive sign, but the true extent of the impact on his mental state remains unknown until he regains consciousness."
"What about his parents? What do we know about them?" Mason asked. Meanwhile, Alec, attempting to maintain composure, silently sent messages to his wife and Sabrina, updating them on the situation.
A shadow seemed to pass over the brunette's face, "I regret to inform you that both parents succumbed to the impact, dying instantly. If it's any consolation, it was an instant death." A sorrowful smile briefly played on the doctor's lips, "You may visit Isaac whenever you wish; his room is 403. Once again, my deepest condolences."
As Alec whispered his gratitude, a mixture of gratitude and sorrow, the two friends entered the labyrinthine hallways of the hospital. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the distant hum of medical machinery accompanied them as they navigated the corridors.
Room 403.
Pushing the door gently, they paused, their entrance halted by an unexpected sight. A fiery cascade of red hair framed a figure leaning against the wall outside. The stranger's eyes were closed, seemingly lost in introspection. The creaking hinge announced their arrival, prompting the young woman to open her eyes.
"Are any of you Isaac's godfather?" she inquired, her voice carrying a mix of professionalism and empathy.
"You go inside, and I'll talk to her," the blonde man suggested to his companion. With the soft click of the door closing behind them, he turned his attention to the poised redhead.
"My name is Alexander Hayes.I'm... I'm Isaac's godfather."
"My name is Hannah Martin; I'm a psychologist. I've been assigned your godson's case. I'm sorry for your loss."
Alec nodded, acknowledging the condolences with a distant gaze. The words hung in the air, a prelude to the mourning that awaited him in the weeks to come. "Not to sound rude," he began, a hint of resignation in his tone, "but what exactly is your job?"
"My job is that once he wakes up, Isaac is going to need therapy, and I'm here to help him," she explained. "And if any of you need to talk to me, you can do so. I'm just here to help."