When I woke up, everything felt hazy. I briefly wondered if I'd overslept and missed school, but then I felt a dull sense of pain radiating from every joint in my body. I groaned and heard a small gasp from someone.

"Allie Cat?"

A soft hand touched my forehead and I opened my eyes. My vision was a little blurry for a moment, but then my mom's tired face came into focus. Her eyes were puffy, like she'd been crying.

I groaned again.

"Are you okay? Do you need something?" she said quickly.

"Yeah, for you to stop crying."

She looked shocked and then she laughed, her eyes watering again.

"I tell her that all the time," a new voice commented and then my dad stepped beside my mom, putting an arm around her shoulder.

"You're both jerks," my mom mumbled, wiping her eyes. "It's normal to cry when your only child is in the hospital. I've had enough hospitals for twelve life times."

I tried to sit up, grimacing when my head began pounding. My dad gently pushed me back down into a lying position. "You have a concussion, don't sit up."

"Concussion— oh my god, Paul." Everything hit me. The truck, the accident. Why didn't it register? Something clenched at my chest and I stared at my dad with wide eyes. "How is he? He's okay, right? Where is he?" I looked around the room. What time was it? How long had I been out?

My mom bit her lip, her eyes watering up again. "Allie, please don't feel guilty about what happened."

"What happened?" I choked out, barely able to speak with how tight my throat was. Please don't be dead, I prayed. I felt the tears before I could stop him. "He's not dead right?"

She shook her head and I immediately felt relief rush through me. "Oh my god, thank god, thank god, " I cried, rubbing the tears from my face. When doing so, a sharp pain went through my fingers. My eyes shot down to my bandaged hand. "What..."

"You've got some cuts and your pinky and ring finger are sprained," my dad said before I could ask. "They'll heal in no time. I'm more worried about your head."

"What about Paul?" I asked. I wasn't worried about myself at all. I knew I should be— I'd sprained my fingers and the competition was right around the corner. But who cared? Paul was the only thing that mattered at this moment. I had to know what I'd done to him.

"He's doing good," my mom answered me, wiping a finger under her eye to clean up some smeared mascara. All she did was rub it in more. "I'm going to call the doctor so he can check on you."

I shook my head, but regretted it instantly. The pain was coming on stronger. "Is he completely okay?"

My mom chewed on her lip. A tell tale sign she was hiding something from me. I turned to my dad instead, giving him the most serious look I could muster. "Dad?"

"He just about shattered the bones in his left wrist," he responded, lowering his eyes. "He had to have them go in and straighten them. And when you flipped, you were trapped. He shattered the window with his other hand to get you out, so his right hand is cut pretty badly. They gave him some stitches, so it will probably heal well."

My blood ran cold. "His wrist...?"

"I know, Sweetie," my mom cooed, smoothing down my hair.

I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was going to be sick. His wrist? He'd shattered his wrist? He was a pianist and he shattered his wrist? I'd caused him to hurt his precious wrist? He wouldn't be able to play the piano.

I sucked in a deep breath of air.

"Allie, he'll be alright," my mom promised me, pushing my hair behind my ear. "As long as he rests."

"I want to see him," I said, searching around the room. There was an IV in my arm. "Can I see him?"

"After the doctor sees you," my mom said firmly.

I pursed my lips. "I'm not worried about me."

"We are," my dad returned, frowning at me. "And he is too. Even though he went through that whole ordeal, he's been waiting here for you to wake up. The only reason he's not here at the moment is because he went to go find something to eat. So cooperate so we can get out of here."

Begrudgingly, I allowed the doctor to come check me out. He gave me some more pain medication— which actually helped a lot. After some lecturing and the take-care-of-yourself speech, he released me. I climbed out bed quickly and grimaced as my head spun.

My dad held the door to the room open for me and I stepped out, looking both ways down the hall. At the very, very end, near the stairs, I saw a familiar figure with a bag under his arm.

Paul.

I'd never felt such a need to see someone, to touch someone. He was like a magnet, pulling me in. My feet were moving before I even realized it.

"We'll go get the car," my dad said, grabbing my mom's hand and dragging her in the opposite direction.

"We should stay—" my mom responded.

"Holly," I heard my dad reply, but I was already halfway to Paul.

His whole forearm was in a thick white cast. Both of his hands were bandaged from the tip of the fingers to his wrist. His hands were useless. As I grew a little closer to him, he put on a cheesy grin. "I forgot I can't really carry things—"

I threw my arms around him, standing on my tiptoes, and pressed my lips to his, pushing my body against his with enough force to make him stumble back into the wall. The bag fell to the floor and he gently rested his hand on my hip and kissed me back. It was sloppy— but it was wonderful. "I'm so sorry," I whispered when I pulled away, my eyes watering.

A fine blush was on Paul's face. "Uh, no need to apologize. I probably would've kissed you if you hadn't kissed me."

"Not about that."

"I'm fine, don't worry about it," he assured me, but didn't look too convincing all wrapped up.

I shook my head. "Your wrist..."

"Allie, I'm fine," he repeated, more seriously this time. "If you're thinking this is your fault, it's not."

"But—"

"If you're worried about my wrist, it'll heal. The doc said as long as I keep it in the cast for 6-8 weeks and not bang it around, it should set correctly." He carefully put his arms around me, hugging me. "I'm glad you're okay. Seeing you unconscious... I was terrified. I was more scared of that than the actual accident."

I gently lowered my head onto his chest. His heart was beating a little faster than normal. "You shouldn't have hurt your precious hands."

"I wasn't going to leave you there."

My lips quivered and Paul leaned down and kissed me gently. "I'm alright. We're okay."

"I should've paid more attention—"

"No," he interjected adamantly. "The only person in the fault here is the driver of that truck. And they will find him, and he'll get what's coming to him. Let's just be thankful it wasn't any worse than it is. I can handle a broken bone. What I can't handle is you feeling like this is your fault."

"But you can't play..."

Paul shrugged, cringing a little bit. My eyes widened. "It doesn't hurt— just a little sore," he reassured me immediately. "And I'm a teacher right now, so I don't really need to play."

"What if it doesn't heal properly?"

Paul still had a small smile on his face and it was unwavering. How could he smile? "I'm just glad we're alive."

My heart thudded in my chest. "Paul."

"Allie," he responded, sounding a little teasing.

"I love you."

There was a moment of silence and Paul stared at me dumbfounded for a second. I licked my lips, which were feeling especially dry. "I love you, Paul," I repeated.

"I-I love you, too," he answered almost immediately, snapping out of his shock. He ducked his head a little bit, like a shy kid. "Uh, sorry. No one's said that to me before... I hope this isn't a heat-of-the-moment type of thing."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "No. I love you." I wanted to keep saying it.

"I love you, too," he said again, grinning.

"I love you."

He kissed my forehead. "Save some for later, huh? There's still someone who wants to see you."

I didn't really want to see anyone else at the moment, but I still followed Paul down to the lobby. Or at least I thought I didn't want to see anyone. When Elliot came into view, my mind changed. His eyes locked onto mine and in two lengthy strides, I was in his arms. I let out a little breath of surprise— he'd never hugged me before. It was always me hugging him.

"Nice to see you too," I giggled when he pulled away.

He sent me a little scowl. "Don't do that again."

"Well it wasn't really my fault."

"Just don't do that again," he said and I saw the weary expression on his face. It warmed my heart a little. It was nice to have a friend who cared about me so much.

I hugged him again. "Thank you."

He shimmied out of my grasp, putting on his usual grumpy look. "Take it easy. You need to rest."

I cocked my head to the side. "You're leaving?"

"I just wanted to see you were okay with my own eyes."

I was unsure whether it was due to the meds I was on, or if I was tired, but his words made me want to cry. I nodded, trying to keep my tears under control. He noticed quickly and held up his hands, eyes darting around. "Are you okay? Why are you crying?"

"I don't know," I answered, wiping my eyes. "I'm happy?"

His face was a little pink and I was glad I wasn't the only one feeling embarrassed. His eyes shot to Paul, who was watching from a few feet away. "Hey! Where's your sling?"

The man in question went rigid, giving Elliot a sheepish look. "I took it off..."

"Put it back on!" Elliot barked. "If you want to be able to travel the world with Allie, you need to heal correctly and the sling will help keep swelling down. Unless you want to lose your arm."

"I'll go get it then..." Paul replied, resembling a child who'd been scolded, "Watch Allie for me."

Elliot mumbled something that I didn't catch and Paul went back down the hallway we'd come from. I glanced at my shoes, feeling a little awkward.

"How is your hand?"

"My dad said it should heal pretty quickly."

"In time for Nationals?"

My nerves crept on me and I let out a short huff of air. "Geez, I don't even want to think about that. I don't care anymore, Elliot. I hurt Paul and if he can't ever play again—"

"Shut up."

Taken aback, I gaped at Elliot. "Huh?"

"You're an idiot," he berated me, his green eyes smoldering. He towered over me, maybe standing a little too close. "You're almost in. If you can perform, you are going to perform. You've worked too hard to just drop out. Paul's worked too hard to have you just drop out."

"I..."

"I will not let you drop out. I know you're feeling guilty, but don't let this affect you. It wasn't your fault. No one thinks it was. We're all here to support you. We all believe in you. So now you have to believe in yourself."

My words were caught in my throat. How did Elliot know I was thinking like that? Was I that obvious? Or did he just know me that well? What did I do to deserve such a great friend? I couldn't let him down. "I'll work hard," I promised him.

"No matter what happens?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Can you promise me that?"

"I promise," I said, holding his gaze.

He nodded. "Good. I won't be around..." He trailed off, snapping his mouth shut.

"You what?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. It'd sounded like he said he wouldn't be around.

"It's nothing," he replied casually.

I blinked. "Are you moving?"

"No. I'll tell you after you win Nationals."

"I don't think I want to know," I said slowly, watching his face for any reactions. He didn't show any. If whatever he had to tell me meant he wouldn't be near me, I didn't want to hear it. I didn't have the slightest clue as to what it would be. He hadn't mentioned anything. Or had I just not picked up on it?"

Elliot squeezed my shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

"How can you—"

"Remember, Paul might be having some of the exact same thoughts you're having, even if he doesn't show it. I'll see you at school tomorrow," he cut me off, nodding to someone behind me. "Watch over her."

"You got it," I heard Paul respond. His arm was now in a blue sling.

"I mean it."

Paul gave Elliot a sad smile. "You can count on me."

Elliot gave us a wave. "I'm leaving."

Feeling like I'd missed out on something big, I barely managed to say goodbye to Elliot. What was up with him? It had to be something big. I was scared to find out. But it seemed like Paul knew about it.

"Ready to go, Allie?" Paul asked, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Your parents are probably tired of waiting."

"You don't think this is your fault, do you?" I asked, thinking about Elliot's earlier words.

Paul shook his head quickly. "No way. I mean, I wish we could've avoided it, with being so close to Nationals and such. I wish I could take all your injures onto myself."

"I'm still going to play in Nationals. And I'm going to win," I vowed, standing a little taller. "I won't let this set me back. I'll play, even if my fingers bleed. Your wrist will heal and we'll travel the world and we'll be partners."

Paul smiled at me. "I know."

"I'm ready." I was more ready than ever.

I was going to win.

But I didn't catch Paul's smile waver for the first time that day.

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Ahhhh, this is going to be coming to an end soon!! I'm going to guess five or so more chapters?? Maybe more, maybe less. How exciting!!! And of course I wasn't going to kill off Paul :P But maybe something else.