The hospital room was too bright.
Not in a clinical sense; everything here was sleek, modern, and softly lit, but the air itself had a sterile calm that made every sound seem amplified. The shuffle of shoes in the hallway. The hum of the heart monitor. The low murmur of nurses outside the door.
Lucas sat propped against a line of white pillows, the faint scent of antiseptic threaded through the cool air. His hospital gown was loose around his shoulders, the cotton pale against his skin. He looked tired, yes, but there was a calm under the fatigue, the same kind of quiet resilience that had unnerved half the court and charmed the other half.
Trevor was standing beside him, because of course he was.
