Malachi Daniel Barton

Malachi's room was a mess.

He had just come out of surgery for an injury he had been hiding for months. It had started in his groin and spread up his inner thigh until the pain became unbearable. The doctors had given him plenty of painkillers, but nothing seemed to calm him down.

And Malachi was seething. Not with rage, but with pure helplessness.

"I want to see Isa," he growled.

"Malachi, you need to stay still. The operation was delicate," the nurse warned.

He tried to sit up suddenly and, when they tried to stop him, he ripped out his IV drip.

"Malachi!" exclaimed Felicia.

—Bring her to me! Now.

Loren ran a hand over his face.

—Son, you just had surgery. You can't move like that.

—I don't care. I want her to come.

MK, sitting by the bed, shook his head.

—Bro, they already told him. He's coming.

—Then why isn't he here?

Her dark eyes shone with pain and anxiety.

—It's coming soon.

—Don't lie to me.

Felicia approached again to insert the IV drip.

—Honey, stop moving. You're going to hurt yourself more.

"I don't care," he murmured, this time almost pleading. "I want Isadora. I need to see her."

The nurses exchanged glances. The captain, who had endured months of training, matches, and pain in silence, was losing control. Not because of the surgery, nor because of the fear that his career was in jeopardy.

But because she wasn't there.

"It's her..." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I just want to see her. If she's here, I can endure anything."

Loren softened her gaze.

—You'll see her. Just stay still.

Malachi nodded, but continued to stare at the door.

—I want it now.

He no longer sounded demanding. He sounded scared.

MK let out a small laugh.

—You're impossible.

—And you're a terrible best friend.

-Because?

—Because you still haven't brought it to me.

MK shook his head.

Malachi didn't even answer. He just kept staring at the door, waiting.

He could endure the pain, the surgery, and even the uncertainty about his career.

But he couldn't bear to be alone.

Malachi grew up with Loren and Felicia, yes, but more like shadows than present parents. They were there, yes, but never fully present—not in the stands, not when night fell, not when he needed someone to tell him to stop. So he learned on his own: to get up, to swallow the pain, to be the captain everyone expected. At 17, at Listone Academy, he carried the team on his shoulders and no one doubted him. No one suspected a thing. He'd been enduring it for months. It started as a dull burning sensation on his inner thigh, near his groin, something he chose to ignore. He kept running, jumping, taking hits and dishing them out. Until the pain crept up, settled in his groin itself—that sensitive area, full of tendons and nerves, where every movement pulls and burns—and every step was a hot, sharp stab that took his breath away. He didn't stop. He couldn't. Until his body said enough. The operation was delicate, necessary, and the doctors were clear: at least three months without setting foot on the field. Three months without the only thing he knew how to do.

MK is his shadow, his counterpart, the brother life didn't give him but earned through shared struggles and laughter. He's known him forever, can read his gaze before he speaks, knows when he's lying and when the pain is real. He's more laid-back, lighter, but when things get tough, he's the first to stand up. They complement each other: Malachi is the fire, MK is the ground that holds it. No one reaches Malachi without passing through him first.

In the middle of all this is Isadora. She's 15, he's 17, and they've been together for almost a year and a half. Kylie is her best friend, and in this freezing winter, she's her only source of warmth. They argue, yes—he's stubborn as they come—but when the world comes crashing down on him, she's the one he turns to. She's his safe haven.

Now, in the hospital room, his body aching and his future hanging by a thread, everyone is taking care of him, but he can only think of one thing: he needs Isa. There's no one else who truly understands him.