[18+] ENEMIES TO LOVERS SPORTS ROMANCE.
*REWRITTEN*
°•°•°•°
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 despis...
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Tristan
I ran through the hospital's main doors, my heart hammering in my chest as I frantically searched for any sign of Hannah.
Did I know I wouldn't find her there? 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 tell him what had happened, and he thought I should know. All he could tell me was that some psycho had attacked Hannah, and she was now in 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 it was another stalker? What if they saw her with me and hurt her because of it? And how badly was she hurt?
My mind spiraled to worst-case scenarios the whole way. I kept picturing her peaceful face from this morning. She was fine when I left — 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. 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 gotten too comfortable, 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.
I approached the reception desk, where a woman in blue scrubs, her white-blonde hair neatly pulled back, glanced up at me. Her wide, black-framed glasses slipped down her nose as she took me in, a flash of recognition in their depths.
"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?"
