[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE.
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Hannah Walker doesn't trust anyone, especially men.
They're manipulative and toxic - her lousy ex taught her that lesson well.
Enter Tristan Beckett, the embodiment of everything she despises. He's arr...
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I ran through the hospital's main doors, my heart pounding painfully against my chest as I scanned the area for any sign of Hannah.
Did I know I wouldn't find her here? Yeah. But that didn't stop me from looking.
I'd just finished lunch with my parents when I got the call from Matthew. Whatever-the-fuck-her-name-was had called him to let him know what happened, and he'd thought I should know — but all he'd been able to tell me was that some crazy chick had attacked Hannah and that she was at this hospital.
The entire drive here, while breaking enough speed limits to put me on the FBI's watch list, I was terrified that she'd been hurt because of me. What if I had another stalker? What if the new stalker had seen her with me and hurt her because of it? And how badly was she hurt?
My mind kept racing to the worst possible scenarios while I drove, and I kept picturing her sleeping face from this morning. When I'd left, she was fine, she was safe. Should I have stayed? Now the regret and guilt ate at me, and I could only blame myself. I should have picked up on the signs sooner, should have been more aware of my surroundings.
But that's the thing — there were none of the usual signs. Surely I would have noticed if someone was following me again?
Everything in my apartment was just as I had left it. There were no consistent, weird messages from unknown numbers on my personal phone. My car was untouched. No one showed up at the stadium during practice, and my family hadn't reported any harassment—except... there were those messages Hannah mentioned. She'd said it was from one of my fans.
Now, she was hurt, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I should have taken those messages more seriously. I had been confident that I would have noticed if it was anything more than what she'd dismissed it as. I'd been lax with her safety and now she was paying for it.
And yet, I couldn't bring myself to stay away. Right now, the thought of letting her out of my sight was unbearable — I couldn't fathom staying away from her, not even for a moment. Whether she liked it or not, she was stuck with me.
The lady behind the reception desk, clad in blue scrubs with her white-blonde hair neatly pulled back, peered up at me with large black framed glasses as I approached. Her eyes widened in recognition as she took me in.
"Can I help you?" she inquired.
"Yeah, I'm looking for someone — she was admitted a couple of hours ago. Hannah Walker?" I said, tapping my finger impatiently on the raised desk.
She nodded, her gaze returning to her keyboard as she began typing. "Do you know the room number or have any information about the patient's condition?"
I hesitated, realizing they might not let me see her without proper details. But honesty was my only option. "No, I don't. I just know she's here."
She nodded again, adjusting her glasses. "And are you a family member or a friend of the patient?"
