Try Again

I stood by the windows of the loft, arms crossed tight against my chest.

Peter gestured dramatically toward the table, where Braeden was sitting.

"That table's Italian," he said, tone just shy of offended.

Braeden barely looked at it.

"So are these boots," she shrugged. "Are we going to talk interior design and fashion, or are we going to talk numbers?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, watching them glare at each other. It was like a chess game made entirely of veiled threats and sarcasm.

Peter scoffed. "We're hiring you to find Kate, not assassinate the president."

Braeden's expression didn't flinch. "I was hired by the Calaveras to find Kate. You're hiring me to find her first. Going against the Calaveras is what's going to cost you."

She wasn't bluffing. I could hear it in her voice. She knew exactly what she was risking.

"We'll pay," Derek cut in, voice low and tense. "Just find Kate. That's all we want."

My eyes snapped to him. There was something... different. Off. His voice had an edge, like something underneath it was barely holding together.

Peter's head whipped around. "Are you insane?"

"We don't have a choice," Derek said. "We spent a week looking for her and came up with nothing."

Peter threw up his hands, pacing now. "If we don't find out who told Kate about the vault, we don't get those bonds back. What do you think I'm gonna do then, huh? Get a job? My resume is slightly out of date! We got robbed, Derek. Robbed!"

Before anyone could say anything else, Derek let out a growl.

I flinched, heart thudding as I took a step back. His body tensed, his stance shifting. His eyes—

Peter froze, wide-eyed. "Oh... that's a new look for you."

"What happened to your eyes?" Peter asked, cautious now, the first trace of fear in his voice.

"I don't know..." Derek replied, his voice heavier, deeper. "But I'm willing to pay to find out."

-----☾-----

Later that night, after Peter and Braeden had left and the sun had dipped behind the Beacon Hills skyline, I found Derek standing on the balcony. He didn't say anything when I walked out, just leaned on the railing.

I watched him quietly for a second, studying the set of his shoulders. Strong. Familiar. Still guarded. But he was back. No more teen Derek.

"I'm glad you're back," I said softly.

He glanced at me, one brow raised. "I wasn't gone."

I smirked a little, stepping beside him and leaning against the railing too. "You kind of were. You were all... angsty and hormonal and thought I was a kid."

"You are a kid," he said, but there was a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. Almost a smile.

I nudged his arm. "Okay, legally sure, just barely. But emotionally I've been through more than most adults, so I think I get to claim at least honorary grown-up status."

Derek huffed out a quiet breath. That almost-smile stuck around a little longer this time.

"It was weird," I admitted, looking out at the city lights. "Having you here but not you. You didn't trust me. You didn't remember anything about us, or Blaise, or... me."

"I remembered your mom," he said after a pause. "I thought you were her."

I looked at him. "That was rough. I mean, I know I look like her, but hearing it. Knowing that you didn't know what happened to her."

He didn't say anything right away. Just stood there, hands gripping the edge of the railing like it kept him grounded.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. Quiet. Sincere. "I know I scared you."

"You did." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "But you're here now. You're you. And that's all that matters."

There was a beat of silence. Then, softly, Derek asked, "Did I... say anything? When I wasn't myself?"

I hesitated, then smiled. "You said I was eight."

He actually laughed at that, short and breathy but real.

I grinned. "It's fine. You spoke really good Spanish and ate, like, four egg rolls in one sitting. Honestly, peak comedy."

He glanced sideways at me. "You missed me."

"I did," I said, honest and unfiltered.

He nodded once, eyes meeting mine. "I missed you too. Even if I didn't know it at the time."

-----☾-----

Scott stood next to Stiles, bouncing slightly on his feet, like he was trying to shake off nerves. I leaned against the fence, arms crossed, watching various boys getting a bit of extra practice in before the tryouts after school today.

"Of course you're still the team captain," Stiles said, clapping Scott on the shoulder. "You got your grades up, just like Coach told you to, right?"

"Yeah," Scott said, scratching the back of his neck. "But he never told me I was back on the team... he just told me to show up at tryouts today."

I raised my eyebrows. "That sounds exactly like Coach. Confusingly aggressive encouragement."

"We got bigger things to deal with anyway," Stiles muttered, his tone shifting. "Did you tell Argent yet?"

Scott's face went sheepish. "Uh... I texted him. But he didn't get back to me."

"You texted him?" Stiles gaped. "You told him his sister came back from the dead over a text?"

"I didn't have the money to call France!" Scott defended, hands up.

"You should have told me," I cut in, arms dropping to my sides. "I would've called him. I've got free international minutes."

Stiles gave me a mock-offended look. "You think you got money problems? Try paying for an MRI and a visit to Eichen House."

I winced. "Yikes. Again?" I wanted to offer to help, god knows I had the money, but I knew Stiles wouldn't like it.

"Yeah," he said, digging into his bag. "This one said 'final.' So. Fun."

Stiles looked at the field again. "Now, remind me why we're doing this instead of literally anything else? I mean, we've got like, one hundred and seventeen million problems. Lacrosse is not one of them."

"It is now," Scott said under his breath.

Stiles squinted across the field. "Who the hell is that?"

Some kid was running drills like he'd been born with a lacrosse stick in his hand. Fast. Aggressive. Way too confident for someone who looked like he couldn't even drive yet.

"Nice, Liam!" Garrett called out. "You might just be our first-ever freshman captain!"

Stiles made a strangled noise. "Okay. Maybe we should practice a little."

I nudged his arm. "Be nice to the new kid, okay?"

He muttered something that sounded like "gremlin with biceps," but I let it slide.

I hesitated before turning to Scott. "Hey... do you think Coach would let me try out? Or is that, like, a lost cause?"

Stiles blinked at me. "You're really gonna try again?"

I nodded. "Why not? I've trained with you two. Plus, I may not be a werewolf, but I do have some supernatural advantages."

Scott smiled at me. "You should ask. He'd be stupid not to say yes."

"Thanks," I murmured, even as nerves twisted my stomach.

Coach was pacing near the sidelines, clipboard in hand, whistle already between his teeth. I jogged up before I could talk myself out of it.

"Coach!" I called out.

He looked up, squinting at me like I was a pop quiz he forgot to study for.

"Cassie," he said flatly. "I remember last year. Still a girl, last I checked."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Still a girl. Still fast. Still accurate. And still standing right here, ready to try out."

He hesitated. I could practically hear the gears turning. Then, finally, he sighed and lowered his clipboard.

"Fine," he grunted. "One tryout. You show me you can run with the boys, and I'll think about it. But I'm not handing out spots just for determination."

A grin broke across my face before I could stop it. "I don't want a handout, Coach. I want to earn it."

"Then be here on time ready after school," he said, turning back to the field. "And don't make me regret this."

I jogged back over to Scott and Stiles, heart pounding.

"Well?" Stiles asked.

I smiled wide. "I'm in."

Scott fist-bumped me. "Told you. He'd be stupid to say no."

"Let's just hope I make it impossible for him to say it later," I said, "I gotta meet Malia before math. I'll see you two later?"

They both nodded, Stiles pressing a quick kiss to my forehead before I jogged back towards the building.

-----☾-----

Malia sat at her desk, arms crossed, glaring at her math textbook like it had personally offended her.

"I hate math," she muttered. "It's pointless."

Stiles spun around in his seat. "It's school! School is important, and math is essential."

"To what?" Malia snapped.

I leaned forward from the desk beside her, offering a soft smile. "Knowing how much to tip at restaurants," I said gently.

Malia blinked at me, a little caught off guard by the unexpected answer.

Lydia, flipping a page in her textbook with just a bit too much attitude, added dryly, "And other less important things, like medicine, economics, engineering..."

"But tipping is the most common use," Stiles repeated, nodding like that settled the debate.

Malia groaned and slouched lower in her seat.

Ms. Flemming stepped in like she'd been waiting for this moment. "All right, volunteers to the board! Lydia, Diego, Malia..."

Malia's eyes widened. "Um... I didn't volunteer."

"You did now," Ms. Flemming said, already pointing to the board.

As Malia dragged herself up, I reached out and gently touched her arm. "Hey," I whispered, "you've got this. Just breathe, okay? It doesn't have to be perfect."

Malia looked at me, uncertain, but not annoyed. Something in her shoulders eased.

"Thanks," she mumbled, then walked up to the board beside Lydia.

At the board, Malia stared at the equation like it was in another language.

"Grrr..." she grunted under her breath.

"Did you go over the notes I gave you?" Lydia asked quietly.

"I didn't understand them," Malia admitted, gripping the marker too tightly.

Lydia sighed, glancing at the problem. "X equals twenty-five. And sweetheart? Put away the claws."

From my seat, I gave Malia a little thumbs-up. She didn't smile, Malia rarely did, but she looked at me like maybe, just maybe, math wasn't the worst thing in the world.

-----☾-----

I was walking with Kira and Scott when Stiles came running up, showing us his phone.

"An axe-murderer?" Kira asked, eyes wide as she looked up from the screen.

"A family-murdering axe-murderer," Stiles corrected dramatically, pacing like he was two seconds away from commandeering a police cruiser.

"I already heard about it," Scott said.

Stiles stopped short. "Wait, what? You did? How?"

"My mom called me," Scott said with a shrug. "She knew we'd see it on the news."

"Perfect!" Stiles threw his hands in the air. "Let's go!"

"Whoa, whoa—" Scott grabbed his arm. "We've got econ in five minutes."

I watched Stiles' mouth drop open like someone had slapped him. "Did you forget the part about the family-murdering axe-murderer?"

Scott didn't flinch. "Did you forget your dad's the sheriff? They want us to stay out of it."

"Maybe we should just let the adults handle it..." Kira added carefully.

I could practically see Stiles' soul leave his body. "So the two of you, you just want to stay here? School? Go to class?" He looked around like he'd stepped into an alternate reality. "Never heard anything so irresponsible in my life! Cassie?" He turned to me, hopeful.

I reached for him, my fingers curling around his arm. "Hey," I said gently, waiting until his eyes met mine. "Your dad's already on it, Stiles. He'll handle it."

His jaw tightened, but he didn't pull away.

"We deserve something normal today," I whispered, stepping a little closer. "Like, I don't know... maybe a little distraction from your girlfriend?"

His brows lifted. "What?" I smirked.

Scott raised his brow and shook his head, walking off with Kira as slung his bag over his shoulder. "See you at tryouts?" He called. I nodded, giving him a thumbs up.

Stiles still looked reluctant, his eyes flicking back down the hallway like he hadn't given up on chasing down an axe-wielding murderer himself.

I leaned up, brushing my lips just barely against his ear. "Come on, detective," I whispered. "You can save the world after we make out on Coach's desk."

That did the trick.

He blinked, then turned fully to me with a smirk of his own. "You're very persuasive."

I tugged his hand. "Yeah, I've got skills."

He followed, of course. Always did.

We slipped around to his office, the noise of the school fading behind us. Once I had locked the door, I hopped up on the desk, pulling Stiles in between my legs.

His eyes were wide, like he couldn't believe this was happening. I grinned wider, tugging his face down to meet mine.

"Think Coach will flip out if we're late for class?" I asked between kisses.

"Honestly?" Stiles murmured against my lips, his hands resting gently at my waist. "If Coach knew what I was doing right now, he'd probably give me a medal."

I laughed, pulling him closer. "Shut up and kiss me, Stilinski."

-----☾-----

Scott was nervously adjusting his cleats like they were suddenly foreign objects on his feet. I pulled my practice jersey over my tank top, grinning as I looked down at it. Coach hadn't said no yet, which meant there was a chance.

"It was the first kiss since our actual first kiss," Scott said suddenly, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I turned, watching him pace in that very Scott way.

Stiles immediately perked up. "That's good! You kissed her!"

Scott looked absolutely horrified. "I did... but I didn't..."

I frowned. "Was, was it on the lips?"

"Yeah..."

"Was there tongue?" Stiles asked.

I snorted, tugging my hair into a ponytail.

Scott looked offended. "No! It was like how you kiss your grandmother when you're five."

Stiles blinked. "Oh. Chaste. You gave her a chaste kiss."

"Yeah, and now it's... it's all weird. It's completely weird. Maybe I should text her..."

I cut in before Scott could freak out again. "You text a girl after a weird kiss, and she'll analyze it for three days straight. Just talk to her in person."

Stiles nodded rapidly. "Yes, exactly. No texts. Never texts."

Coach's voice rang out before Scott could keep spiraling. "As a reminder, it's an open tryout today - all positions available. This is a rebuilding season, people! Jackson's gone, Lahey's gone... Greenberg, the one guy I actually wanted gone, was held back... again."

I bit my lip, practically bouncing on the balls of my feet. This was it.

Coach blew his whistle. "Get your asses on the field!"

Scott jogged over to him. "Hey, Coach? I just wanted to ask if... I was still... If I'm... you know..."

Coach didn't even look up. "You're on the team, McCall."

"But... But am I... everything I was on the team before?"

Coach's whistle spun once around his finger. "All positions are available."

I headed towards the field, a wide smile on my face. I turned back, throwing a look over my shoulder at the guys. "You two better keep up. I plan on starting this year."

Stiles whistled low. "Cassie's got claws today."

"You know it," I said, bumping him playfully with my shoulder.

-----☾-----

My lungs were on fire, but in the best kind of way, the way that reminded you you were alive. I rounded the last corner of the field, shoes kicking up dirt as I pushed through the final stretch.

Ahead of me, Liam was already slowing to a jog. Of course he was first. The kid ran like he was part rocket. But I was right behind him. Second. Out of everyone.

I crossed the finish line with a breathless laugh, hands on my hips as I caught my breath. I turned to see the rest of the team trickling in, some barely jogging, some full-on wheezing. And then, trailing at the very end, came Stiles.

Coach blew the whistle again and threw his hands in the air dramatically.

"Terrible!"

"Horrifying!"

"Pathetic!"

"Unbelievably pathetic!"

Stiles nearly collapsed into Scott's arms.

"I got you," Scott muttered, catching him with one arm.

"Who came in first?" Stiles gasped between gulps of air.

"Liam," I said calmly, making my way over.

"He isn't human. What is he? Like, a werecheetah? Does that even exist? Is that a thing?" Stiles grumbled.

I grinned, brushing a bit of sweat from my forehead. "I think he's just good," I said, walking over and plopping down next to them.

"Second place," I added proudly, nudging Scott's shoe with mine. "Don't act like you're not impressed."

"I am impressed," Scott said, still hunched over. "Also possibly dying."

"I'm gonna puke," Stiles wheezed. "Take me somewhere. Somewhere far, and flat, and not full of running."

I chuckled and offered them each a bottle of water from my bag. "You two are lucky you're cute."

Stiles peeked up at me with a tired, crooked grin. "You think I'm cute even when I'm about to throw up?"

"Especially when you're about to throw up," I teased.

He groaned. "True love hurts."

"Apparently so do laps," I added, stretching out my legs and letting the sun hit my face.

-----☾-----

We rotated into drills, this time running a series of passing plays.

Stiles stood beside me, arms crossed. "You know, maybe he's only good in goal. You know, just totally useless on the rest of the field."

Coach practically beamed as Liam caught the ball mid-pass and slammed it into the net without breaking stride.

"YES!" Coach shouted.

Stiles made a strangled sound in his throat. "Maybe he's just perfect at everything." Then, bitterly, "I hate him."

"You don't have to hate him," Scott said, jogging over. "The team needs new players."

Stiles wasn't having it. "What about a new team captain?"

The next drill was just as bad. It was like Scott had forgotten how to play. Stiles wasn't doing great, but that was to be expected. Scott attempted to shoot, the ball flying way wide.

From across the field, Garrett chimed in, voice dripping sarcasm, "Nice, McCall!"

"Hey, Garrett..." Stiles snapped. "Shut up!"

I smirked as I passed Garrett and lightly shouldered him on the way back into play. He scowled. I didn't care.

I nudged Scott playfully as we got ready to go again. "Try not to get shown up again, Alpha."

Stiles frowned. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"A little," I said. "You're cute when you're frustrated."

He flushed, just a bit. Scott made a gagging noise. "I'm right here."

-----☾-----

It was my turn again. Two-on-two drills. I stood next to Scott, facing off against Liam and some junior I barely recognized.

Whistle.

I exploded forward, dodging the first defender and keeping low. Liam darted in to intercept, but I spun around him and passed to Scott.

Scott fumbled.

The ball skittered away, and Liam was on it in a flash, shooting it back down the field. Goal. Again.

"Dude, what is going on with you?" Stiles said as we regrouped.

Scott shrugged, frustrated. "I don't know. I'm having a really off-day."

"Off-day? You were dying out there! I feel actual physical pain watching you."

Scott looked up, slightly defensive. "I didn't see you make any shots..."

Stiles threw up his hands. "Yes, that's because I'm terrible, though, Scott! You are the Alpha."

I walked over, still catching my breath. "He's got a point, you know."

Scott looked between us. "Not on the field. I'm human on the field."

"Well, human-you is kind of sucking at the moment," Stiles said. "So do you think there is any way you can use just, like, a little tiny bit of wolf power?"

"It's cheating..." Scott replied.

"I know it is! It's just, I hate seeing this little freshman come in and steal all your glory after you worked your tushie off! I hate it!"

"He's not going to steal all the glory," Scott muttered.

Before I could say anything, Coach blew his whistle again, grinning at Liam. "Yes! Hot damn! Yeah! Hustle!"

He pointed at Scott and Stiles. "McCall and Stilinski, grab the long sticks! You're covering goal for two-on-ones."

Stiles grumbled, heading toward the pile of gear. "We still don't know if he's a Werewolf... And, if he is, he'd just be cheating, and we'd just be cheating the cheater."

"He's not," Scott replied. "I'd know, I'd be able to catch a scent or something."

Stiles leaned closer. "Maybe you need to get closer..."

Scott sighed. "I think I'm about to get my chance."

They got ready, doing well on their first run defending.

"That's my boys! Those two are like sons to me." Coach yelled, and I laughed.

Kira stood on the sidelines, cheering. "YES!"

"That's how you do it! That's how it's done!" Coach bellowed as they blocked their second run.

The third one went less well. It was Liam and Garett. While Garret wasn't great, Liam carried them, absolutely knocking Scott on his ass. I winced.

"That was luck!" Malia called from the bleachers.

"Oh no..." I muttered. "Don't get involved..."

"Do-over!" Malia shouted, standing now.

Coach turned to her with a smirk. "Sweetheart, there are no do-overs—this is a practice."

"Ten bucks on Scott and Stiles!" she called.

Coach rubbed his chin. "...I'll take that action."

I laughed, shaking. "This is getting good."

Coach pointed at Liam. "Hey! Get back in there, Liam!"

Liam did as he was told, but I could tell Scott was angry now. When him and Liam collided, there was a sickening crack as Liam hit the ground again.

"Don't move! Don't touch him!" Coach shouted as he ran toward the field.

I dropped my stick and rushed over before he finished the sentence, skidding to my knees next to Liam.

"I'm okay, Coach. I'm all right," Liam said quickly, trying to sit up, until the pain hit.

He let out a strangled groan and collapsed back down, face twisted in agony.

"I think it's my leg," he whimpered, clutching it.

Stiles knelt beside me. "I think we better get him to the nurse."

I rested a hand gently on Liam's shoulder. "Don't move, okay? Help's coming."

-----☾-----

I stood outside Liam's room, arms crossed, trying not to hover. Scott was next to me, quiet. I could tell he was deep in his own head, but I wasn't ready to push him just yet.

Melissa appeared in the doorway, pulling on gloves, her face all calm professionalism with just a hint of that fierce mom energy underneath.

"Uh, hi, Mom..." Scott said sheepishly.

Melissa didn't miss a beat. She smiled at Liam gently. "Don't worry, Liam. We'll take good care of you."

He nodded, eyes wide and still a little dazed.

I exhaled softly, trying not to let the protective instinct running wild inside me take over. I hated seeing anyone hurt, but something about Liam, about how young he was, how new, it made me want to wrap him in a blanket and fight the entire world on his behalf.

Stiles checked his phone and groaned. "I got to get going. I promised Malia I'd help her study."

"Tell her sorry?" I said, half-turning to him. "I'm gonna stay."

He blinked at me, then nodded. "Will do."

Scott gave me a small, grateful look. "Sure. I want to check on him, anyway."

Stiles put a hand on Scott's shoulder. "Hey... I don't need to say that it wasn't your fault, right?"

Scott didn't answer. He just shrugged, eyes still on Liam through the glass of the door.

Stiles sighed. "Scott, if you had used any wolf power, that kid wouldn't be limping, he'd be crawling back to the other half of his body!"

My stomach twisted at the image. "Okay, maybe not the most comforting visual," I murmured.

Scott finally turned around. "If I hadn't been so worried about being captain, he wouldn't be hurt, either."

I stepped closer. "That's not fair, Scott. Just because you're the alpha doesn't mean you're responsible for every single thing that happens."

"It's okay to want something for yourself once in a while," Stiles added. "Team captain, Alpha Werewolf... You're still only human."

I nodded, arms folded tighter. "And humans make mistakes. Even the supernaturally gifted ones."

Scott looked like he wanted to believe us. Stiles gave me a quick kiss before leaving. Scott and I stood in silence, waiting for the Doctor to be done talking to Liam.

Then his phone buzzed. He glanced down and answered.

"Hey, Lydia—"

Her voice was urgent, even from here I could hear the panic bleeding through the line.

"Where are you?" she said. "I couldn't call—I couldn't get away from the deputy."

"Okay, slow down..." Scott replied, brows drawing together.

"You need to get to the hospital. You need to get there right now! The son, the only one who survived? He's there."

I straightened up immediately, heart lurching.

"So am I," Scott said slowly. "Cassie and I are at the hospital, too."

"Then find him—find Sean Walcott!"

He hung up without another word.

I was already moving. "Come on. Let's find him. Now."

We barely made it down the up a floor before we heard Melissa's voice.

At first, it was calm. Controlled. Then it shifted, fear, pure and raw.

"No! Leave me alone! NO!!!!"

Scott and I burst through the emergency room doors just in time to see Sean lunge at her.

His face was warped, mouth opened too wide, eyes glassy and feral. My heart stuttered.

I didn't even think. I grabbed the closest metal tray from a nearby cart and hurled it at his head.

It connected with a clang, throwing him off just long enough for Scott to tackle him to the floor. They scuffled for a second, claws slashing, Sean growling in this low, wet sound that made my spine lock up.

He darted away a second later, vanishing into the hall.

I turned straight to Melissa, who was bracing herself against the counter.

"You okay?" I asked, breath ragged, already checking for blood.

"I'm okay," she said quickly, but her voice was shaking. "I'm all right."

"Are you sure?" Scott pressed, voice tight, eyes darting from her face to the direction Sean disappeared.

Melissa gave one sharp nod. "Go get that son of a bitch."

We didn't need to be told twice.

We bolted through the hospital corridors, every light flashing like a warning sign. The chaos had already started—patients calling out, nurses shouting over the PA, the whole building buzzing with fear.

I saw the blood on the wall and pointed. We raced up the stairs, coming out to the roof.

We skidded to a stop at the door and looked up. Sean was on the edge of the roof. And he had Liam.

No, he was holding Liam over the edge.

My lungs collapsed. "Scott—"

Sean turned to us, teeth bared. "Get back!"

"Don't!" Scott raised his hands, taking a slow step forward. "You don't need to do this. Whatever it is, whatever you are, we can help you."

I moved to the side, slowly, just enough to get a better angle in case I had to rush him. My heart pounded so loud I could barely hear. My hand found my knife, tightly wrapping around it.

"No, you can't!" Sean screamed.

"Let me help you," Scott pleaded.

"Wendigos don't need help—we need food!"

Sean growled and moved like a blur.

Liam's feet slipped.

"Scott!" I shouted, sprinting forward, but Scott was already there.

He caught Liam's arm just as he dropped.

"Oh God!"

The Wendigo leapt on Scott's back, claws slashing down. I didn't even think, I rushed them, and slammed my knife into Sean's shoulder. It didn't stop him. He used one hand to backhand me, sending me into the wall with a groan

"No! No!" Scott yelled, trying to hold onto both Liam and keep the Wendigo off his back.

"I can't hold on!" Liam screamed, tears streaking down his face, his body dangling over the side.

Scott looked between us, desperation carved into every line of his face.

Then he did it.

He bit Liam.

Liam screamed.

Then. THWACK.

A tomahawk came flying out of the shadows and buried itself into Sean's back.

Sean dropped.

I spun around, searching, someone was up here with us. A figure in the dark, already retreating across the roof, disappearing into the night like a ghost.

Liam collapsed into Scott's arms, sobbing, clutching his bitten arm.

Scott looked up at me, panicked, eyes flashing red for just a second.

"Cass," he whispered.

I dropped to my knees beside them, hand automatically on Liam's back, brushing sweat-damp hair from his forehead.

"We'll figure it out. We'll figure everything out." I said softly, not even sure if I was talking to Scott or Liam or myself.