Chapter Three
1151 Words
Scarlet was discharged just before evening.
The doctor spoke carefully, the way people do when they know their words might be ignored. Concussion protocol. No driving. No alcohol. Someone with her overnight. A nurse handed her a thin stack of papers and watched until Scarlet folded them and put them in her bag.
The hospital doors opened onto cooling air and a sky already dimming toward blue-gray.
Scarlet stepped outside and stopped. She felt emptied out. Not free. Just released.
Ward stood a few feet away, posture still alert, as if the hospital had not let go of him yet. Henry lingered closer, hands in his jacket pockets, waiting without pushing.
“
You good to walk?” Ward asked.
Scarlet nodded. Her head throbbed, but the ground stayed steady.
They crossed the lot slowly. The world felt too loud without machines explaining it.
“I don’t want to go home,” Scarlet said, quietly, as if the sentence itself might argue back.
Henry answered immediately. “You can stay with me.”
She looked at him, searching for hesitation. There was none.
Ward nodded once. “I’ll check in later.”
Scarlet did not thank them. She did not apologize either. She simply got into Henry’s car and let the door close. That night, Henry’s house felt like a place people actually lived in. Not staged. Not silent. Just ordinary.
Scarlet moved carefully through the space, shoes off, bag set down where Henry gestured. Her body felt heavy, like gravity had been turned up slightly. Henry handed her water and painkillers, then stepped back again, giving room. They did not talk much. She slept on the couch at first, half dozing, waking whenever the house creaked. Henry stayed up later than he needed to, moving quietly, making sure the lights were low. Nothing bad happened.
The next morning, Scarlet woke to the smell of coffee. She sat up slowly, checking the room before she checked herself. Everything stayed where it was supposed to be.Henry stood in the kitchen, already dressed, pouring coffee into two mugs.
"Morning,” he said.
She nodded. “I didn’t dream.”
He slid a mug across the counter. “That sounds good.”
She wrapped her hands around it. The heat helped. The discharge papers sat folded beside her bag. “They told me that I could go anywhere I wanted,” she said.
Henry poured his own coffee. “You can stay here.”
She let out a small breath. Not relief exactly. Something close.
That afternoon, Pierce and Cade crossed the quad together.The wind cut sharp. Students gathered in loose clusters, voices carrying too easily. A few heads turned. A few whispers followed. Cade shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to Pierce. “You’re cold.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
Pierce took it anyway. “They’re talking about her,” Pierce said.
“We can go around.”
Pierce looked at him. “You care?”
“I care about you.”
Pierce looked away first. They kept walking.
That evening, Scarlet sat on Henry’s bed, damp hair pulled back, wearing one of his shirts. It hung too long on her arms. Henry sat on the floor, back against the bed, working on a small mechanical device that kept slipping apart in his hands. She watched him for a moment. Then noticed the scarring on his knuckles.
“You fight?” she asked.
He glanced up. “I used to.”
“For sport?”
“For things I thought mattered.”
She absorbed that. “I sleep better here,” she said.
Henry paused, then nodded. “You do not have to explain that.”
She lay back, staring at the ceiling. “At home, I’m always waiting.”
“For what?”
She shook her head. “I never know.”
“You don’t have to wait here,” he said.
They stayed quiet after that. Not awkward. Just settled.
Later, Scarlet sat curled up on the couch, phone resting idle in her hands. The house felt too quiet now. Not unsafe. Just empty in a way that pressed inward. Henry stood by the window, smoking, eyes on the street.
Scarlet watched him for a long moment before speaking. “How did you get so good at being calm?” she asked.
He did not answer right away. “My mom’s been using since I was a kid,” he said finally. “Pills at first. Then whatever was around.”
Scarlet sat up slightly. “What do you do when it gets bad?”
Henry exhaled smoke slowly. “Nothing heroic. I learned early that you cannot save people who do not want saving.” A pause. “So I survive.”
Scarlet nodded. “Everyone else always wants to fix me.”
“
That usually makes things worse.”
He poured coffee into two mugs and set one near her. Their hands did not touch.
Meanwhile, the locker room rang with noise. Steam clung to the air. Lockers slammed. Pierce sat unmoving, towel around his neck.
“Heard the Mangione girl wrapped her Maserati around a tree,” one player gossiped.
“Daddy will make it disappear,” another quipped back instantly.
Pierce’s jaw tightened.
“Don’t,” Cade said quietly.
Ward passed by, stopped. “You look like you are about to combust.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Soren said. “You are doing that thing.”
At the doorway, Quinn leaned against the frame, hoodie pulled low. “You coming or what? Tide’s perfect.”
Another comment came from the opposite side of the locker room. Cruder this time.
Pierce stood. The room stilled.
“Not worth it,” Ward said.
Cade’s fingers brushed Pierce’s wrist. Enough to ground him. Pierce sat back down.
Quinn’s voice cut through the quiet. “Funny how brave people get when the girl is not here.”
No one laughed.
“Let’s go,” Soren said.
Quinn glanced back once, then left.
Late that night, the lamp in Henry’s room glowed low.
Scarlet lay on the bed, scrolling without reading. Her phone buzzed. She froze. A photo filled the screen. Henry’s house. Taken from across the street.
Then a message: You can’t hide forever, mia cara.
Her hands began to shake.
Henry looked up instantly. “Scarlet.”
She held the phone out.
“Okay,” he said. Calm. Steady. “You are not alone.”
A car engine idled faintly outside.
“That’s him,” she said. “I will not let you get hurt because of me.”
Henry moved to the window slowly, just enough to see.
The engine revved. Then faded.
Silence fell back into the room.
Scarlet pressed the phone to her chest. Henry sat on the floor beside the bed. Close enough. Not touching.
Simply present.
- Writer
