ZOE
I’m a mess—blotchy, hiccuping mess. I don't even know how I made it out of the arena but my hands are shaking as I lean against the front desk. “Blake Thompson,” I manage, voice breaking as I push the words out. “Is he—”
My heart’s pounding so hard I’m half convinced I’m the one in need of medical attention. Every possible worst-case scenario is flashing through my mind, each one worse than the last. What if he’s—
Then, out of nowhere, someone yanks my arm, hard. I look up, eyes blurry, and there’s Preston. He’s got that intense, stormy look, jaw tight like he’s holding back a thousand things he wants to shout. His hand stays locked around my wrist, firm and almost… accusing.
I try to pull free, but his grip just tightens, eyes flashing with this mix of anger and grief. I know I s
