Her Dad's Best Friend

Recovery and Resolve

The hospital room was too bright, too sterile, and the quiet was unnerving. I sat on the examination table, my hands fidgeting in my lap as I waited for the doctor to speak. The throbbing pain in my head hadn't gone away since that night, but worse than the physical pain was the fear and anxiety that lingered, making it hard to breathe sometimes.

Dr. Moore sat across from me, his brow furrowed as he reviewed my chart. Finally, he looked up, his expression gentle but serious. "Hailey, after reviewing your scans, it looks like you have a minor concussion and some head trauma. The good news is that it's not too severe, but you'll need to take it easy for a while."

I nodded, biting my lip as I processed the information. I had expected the diagnosis, but hearing it out loud made it feel more real, more tangible. The fear that had been building inside me tightened in my chest.

"There's something else," Dr. Moore continued. "Given what you've been through, it's important we talk about the emotional side of things. You're experiencing anxiety and panic attacks, which are normal after an event like this, but they can be difficult to manage without help."

I swallowed hard, my hands trembling slightly. Anxiety. Panic attacks. It felt like I was drowning in it, and now it had a name.

"I'm prescribing you medication to help with the physical pain, as well as something to help manage the anxiety. But therapy will also be important. You've been through a lot, Hailey, and it's going to take time to heal both physically and emotionally."

I nodded again, feeling the weight of his words. "Thank you, doctor."

He gave me a reassuring smile. "You're stronger than you think. Take care of yourself, and don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything."

After the appointment, Jordan was waiting outside the room, pacing like a caged animal. The moment he saw me, his expression softened, though I could still see the rage simmering beneath the surface. He hated what had happened to me—hated that he hadn't been there to stop it.

We drove home in silence, the tension between us heavy. I knew Jordan was trying to be as gentle as possible, but I could see the storm brewing in him, the need to find Chris and make him pay for what he did. I felt the same rage, but it was buried beneath layers of fear.

Back at home, Jordan helped me settle onto the couch, making sure I had everything I needed before he sat beside me. His hand found mine, squeezing it gently, but neither of us said a word. There was nothing to say. We were both haunted by what had happened.

A few days later, Jordan and my dad were out, doing everything they could to track Chris down. I knew they wouldn't rest until they found him, but in the meantime, I had to figure out how to pick up the pieces of my life.

That's when KD stepped in.

KD, my best friend since forever, was a boxer. He was tall, muscular, with a constant scowl that hid a heart of gold. When he found out what had happened, he came over immediately, barging into the house like a storm.

"Where the fuck is Jordan?" KD barked, his eyes blazing with fury.

"KD, please," I said softly, already knowing what was coming.

"He wasn't there to protect you," KD continued, pacing in front of me, his fists clenched. "What the hell was he doing? How did Chris even get close to you?"

I winced, not because of KD's words, but because deep down, I had asked myself the same questions. Where was Jordan when I needed him most? Why hadn't he been able to stop Chris?

Jordan, as if on cue, walked through the front door. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw KD, his eyes narrowing as he took in the tension in the room.

"Jordan," KD spat, stepping toward him. "You were supposed to keep her safe. What the fuck happened?"

Jordan's jaw clenched, but he didn't back down. "I wasn't there, KD, and I hate myself for it. But now I'm going to make damn sure Chris never gets near her again."

KD's anger flared, and he moved closer, his chest puffed out. "You should have been there in the first place!"

"KD, stop!" I shouted, standing up despite the soreness in my body. "This isn't Jordan's fault. It's Chris. He's the one who did this, and blaming Jordan isn't going to fix anything."

Both men turned to look at me, their anger momentarily replaced by concern.

"KD," I said, my voice softer now, "I need you to help me. I need to feel strong again. Can you do that?"

KD's expression softened, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, Hails. I can do that."

Over the next few weeks, KD started training me. We worked in the gym every day, even when I didn't feel like I could get out of bed. KD pushed me hard, but he also knew when to back off. Slowly but surely, I started to feel like myself again—or at least, like someone who could fight back.

Jordan was supportive, watching from the sidelines as I trained, his eyes always on me, protective, loving. He was careful with me, knowing how fragile I still felt, but he never treated me like I was broken.

One night, after an especially tough training session, I collapsed onto the couch, my muscles aching but my heart lighter. Jordan sat beside me, pulling me into his arms.

"You're getting stronger every day," he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"I have to," I said softly, my hand resting on his chest. "For Aiden. For us."

Jordan nodded, his hand running gently over my back. "And we'll face whatever comes next. Together."

With KD by my side, and Jordan's unwavering support, I knew I could keep fighting. But deep down, the fear of Chris still lingered, a shadow that wouldn't go away.

But I wasn't going to let him win.

Not this time...