The next three days in the hospital were a vortex of physical agony, emotional upheaval, and a relentless battle against my own mind. Confined to a hospital bed, every breath was a struggle, each inhale an excruciating reminder of the consequences of my recklessness. The high-powered steroids coursing through my veins brought with them a storm of agitation and irritability. I was a prisoner in my own body, tethered not only by the medical equipment but also by the turmoil within me. Penelope, ever-present, became both my anchor and, unwittingly, the recipient of my steroid-induced outbursts. Each day was a tightrope between gratitude for her unwavering support and an irrational anger that I could neither justify nor control. "Try to take a deeper breath, Wyatt," Penelope encouraged softly during one of my breathing treatments. The exercises, meant to strengthen my damaged lung, felt more like a form of medieval torture. "I'm trying, Penny," I snapped, my voice laced with frustr

As I signed the last discharge papers, a heavy weight seemed to lift off my shoulders. Turning towards the door, there she was. Penelope, standing just outside, her gaze anchored to the floor. The sight of her sent a wave of relief through me, so intense it was almost physical, like a punch to the gut. Shakily, I stood up, feeling the soreness of my muscles protest, but I pushed through it. My steps towards her were hesitant yet determined. As the distance closed between us, she looked up, a clear storm in her eyes. Reaching her, I felt a surge of something that felt like hope. As I reached out, she put her hands up my chest, signaling me to stop. Her touch was electrifying, even in rejection, evoking mixed emotions. "No," she whispered, not meeting my eyes. I let out a sigh, heavy with a cocktail of emotions. "Okay, I get it," I murmured. "Let's go home?" We silently walked down to the waiting car, the air thick with unspoken words and tension. I couldn't help but feel elated a

As I continued moving around the bag, punching, weaving, and dodging, I became acutely aware of Penelope's gaze. There was something about her presence that bolstered my confidence. Her eyes, resting on me, seemed to validate my every move. The cadence of my punches felt more fluid, my footwork more agile under her watchful eye. For a fleeting moment, I wondered how much better I would perform in an actual match if she were there to watch me. But I quickly chastised myself for even entertaining the thought. That part of my life – the violence, the raw aggression of the ring – was something I had kept hidden from her. She would never know that side of me, and the realization stung more than I cared to admit. As if she could read the turmoil inside me, Penelope's voice broke the silence, soft yet clear. "Why do they call you Hawk?" she asked, her chin resting on the back of the chair, her eyes never leaving me. The question caught me off guard, sending a jolt of agitation through m

Aiken's suggestion to walk the grounds of the Lane Mansion came as breakfast was winding down. "It's a beautiful day. Might do you good to get some fresh air and sun," he said, looking between Penelope and me.I considered the idea, my mind weighing the pros and cons. "I'm not sure if I'm up for a bunch of walking, but how about taking the side-by-side?" I proposed, thinking of the all-terrain vehicle parked in the garage. Getting out without exerting myself too much would be a good compromise.Penelope raised an eyebrow, a hint of apprehension in her voice. "No, no, last time I was on that with you, you flipped it." The last time we rode it together, the experience had been more thrilling than safe, a memory that brought both a smile and a wince."I promise, no flips this time," I reassured her. "I'm not exactly in shape for daredevil stunts anyway."She still didn't look convinced.I couldn't help but chuckle at the memory despite the seriousness of her concern. "I promise I won't

Rooted to the top of the stairs, I sat there, my head buried in my hands, struggling with the turmoil inside me. I was a tempest of emotions, a blend of fear, frustration, and an unspoken longing that had been simmering beneath the surface for years. The weight of Penelope's words, her presence, and the unresolved tension between us felt like a palpable force, suffocating yet vital. After what felt like an eternity, I heard her footsteps approaching. Her fingers gently brushed through my hair, a soothing gesture that momentarily calmed the storm within me. She sat down beside me, our shoulders barely touching. The silence was heavy, broken only by the echo of my labored breathing against the walls. It was as if time had frozen, suspending us in a moment filled with unspoken questions and pent-up emotions. The frustration within me reached a boiling point, and I let out a low, growling sound, a primal expression of my internal struggle. Standing abruptly, I turned to Penelope and off