It could've happened to anyone.

Anyone.

But it had to happen to Joey.

I silently sob as I think of his unconscious body laying in that hospital bed, all the way across the country in Los Angeles, all alone. Slightly embarrassed of my tears, I hide my face in my hands.

I remember dropping my phone, and almost Wesley, when I got that call. I couldn't move for a minute, but I knew reliable sources. I drove to Jackie and Javin's, and Javin was able to get me a flight to LA in the next hour. I thanked God that his last game was yesterday and not tonight. I had kissed Wesley goodbye, packed some over night clothes and the normal necessities, then drove myself to the airport.

The seat next to me is empty other than my bag, so I pull out a book. But I can't concentrate on the words typed onto the page; I can only think about Joey.

<><><>

Joey

The team and I go to the bar to celebrate our last game, and win, of the season. The guys who are single hit on the girls; the taken ones call their wives or girlfriends. I would do the same, but I dropped my phone on the concrete earlier, so now I'm waiting for a replacement. I've at least been able to call Blair from the hotel phones.

I decline any form of alcohol handed to me, knowing the last thing I need to do is get drunk. I just want to get back to the hotel safely, and see my beautiful girl and son the next morning.

After a few of us begin to leave, I head off as well. I get in my car and smile at the picture of Wesley on my chain before starting the car.

The road to my hotel is almost empty, due to it being early on a Friday night. I hear the roar of a car behind me, and roll my eyes at the guy who's begging for attention.

Then I'm in the ditch, my upper body hanging out of the front windshield. My vision is blurry from blood trickling down my forehead, but I can make out blades of glass sticking in my arms, making me gag. More glass is stuck in my sides, but I don't have the effort to scream. To scream in pain. For help. For Blair.

Then everything goes black.

"Happy six months," I whisper into her ear. I can hear her softly yawn before she rolls over and gives me a sloppy, tired kiss.

"Uh huh." She hums in response, making me chuckle.

I watch her as she slowly sits up and rubs her eyes. I sit up behind her and run my hands through her messy hair, unknotting it with my fingers.

"Ooh," She moans. "Keep doing that."

I smirk at her words and do so, her small figure leaning into mine. We curve perfectly so we fit together like puzzle pieces.

After I've 'brushed' her hair, she clings onto my back as I carry her into my kitchen. I set her down on the island, peck her lips, then let her watch as I make us pancakes. She giggles at my attempt to make them heart shaped, but they turn out like men's private parts.

"You're so immature," I tease. "God, I love you."

Her eyes widen, and then I realize what I said. "You... you love me?" Blair asks.

"What? No, I was joking, it's too early!" I say, but obviously lie.

She hops off the island and goes on her tip toes, hugging my neck and kissing my cheek. "I love you, too, Joey Baker."

Blair

I sling my bag over my shoulder and rush past people to get out of the plane. I receive weird looks as I run through the airport, but I don't care.

I stand at the front door after calling an Uber to pick me up, stating it's an emergency and to come fast. I thank the driver, give him money, then speed walk into the hospital.

As I wait in line at the front desk, I realize how messy I must look. Wesley's dried puke on my jeans. Joey's hoodie that almost reaches my knees. My hair hastily thrown into a bun.

But then I remember: Joey says I look beautiful in everything. I wear a stained shirt since I haven't done the laundry yet, and he compliments me. I slightly smile, thinking of his sweetness. What did I do to deserve him?

Ten minutes later, I'm in his room. The doctor thoroughly explains what happened.

Some drunk ass was speeding and crashed into Joey's car. He was thrown from his seat and into the windshield after the airbags had failed to work. He broke his left arm, and miraculously, only sprained his ankle. Joey got a concussion from the glass, but he was lucky the blade hadn't dug deeper and killed him.

"He'll be unconscious for the next day or so. He's very lucky to be alive, Ms.Cooper." The doctor explains.

"Mrs.Baker." I correct him. "It's... Mrs.Baker."