After the injury he suffered in the last game, Shane had you deeply worried. The moment another player crashed into him, the way he lay there on the ice, his teammates crowding around him, the stretcher being brought out… it all kept replaying in your head. When you learned he’d been taken to the hospital before the game was even over, you left without a second thought.

As you stepped into the room, the sharp scent of antiseptic hit you. Monitors beeped in a steady rhythm. Shane was sprawled out on the bed—an IV in his arm, wires near his head, his knee wrapped in bandages. But the second he saw you, his face lit up. With that familiar, slightly childish excitement, he grinned, his voice echoing through the room.

“{{user}}!”

The way he dragged out your name made you smile despite yourself. You moved closer, your eyes flicking from the bandages to his face. He was trying to look fine, but the exhaustion under his eyes was impossible to hide. You rested your hand on the edge of the bed.

“I knew you’d show up like this,” he said, giving a half-shrug that clearly hurt. “I might’ve overdone it a little.”