𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐀.ᐟ 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗺 𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀

the arrival

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opening: the arrival

{a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this story! commenting and voting is greatly appreciated

DISCLAIMER- i did write the description, this opening, and the first chapter months before i even made this into a book. so please ignore any grammar mistakes or how poorly written it is.

Thank you!!

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𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗵𝘀 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗿...

  BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The repetitive sound rung in Adam Banks' ear steady and quiet, growning louder as it drug him to consciousness. A machine beside him continued its noise, and the blonde followed the red line of his heartbeat for a minute as his memories from last night came rushing back. 

His eyes traveled down the wrinkled hospital sheets and to the plastered cast on his left arm, already filled with signatures from his teammates.

The boy continued glancing around, then paused on a unfamiliar head of chestnut colored hair, resting on the bed beside his waist.

"Who are you?" he croaked. Adam did not expect the way the person jerked up to quickly, hair a mess as though maybe they slept there too, bent over in an uncomfortable plastic chair.

He stops, watching as the realization flashes over their face. "Shit!" Worried, the girl springs up from the position and readjusts herself, smoothing out the volunteer's uniform she was wearing.

Her eyes wander to the boy. A nervous smile makes a way to her lips. "I apologize, really," she says, nervously chuckling."I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Adam took a notice that she's quite young, and certainly not old enough to be an actual nurse. He smiled just a bit, "Oh, that's fine, don't worry about it." The boy assumed she was some sort of intern.

She nodded his way, a relieved expression taking over her face. The gentle beeping fills the silence as she sets her hands in her lap, like she isn't sure what to do with them.

"Where's my mom?" Adam finally asked, leaning back against the pillow.

"She went home to get you new clothes."

He can see his clothes from last night folded and neatly stacked on the table in the corner, his hockey jersey on top.

"It sounds like you went down pretty hard," she says after a second, as though Adam might not remember. "They said you were out before you even hit the ice."

"I remember," Adam mutters, but he doesn't bring his gaze to the girl. He remembers the hulking defender on the opposing team, the crunch of the bone as he hit the wall, the clang of two helmets colliding, the spots filling his vision as he slid down and didn't get up.

His head throbs as he sits there, just for a second, just long enough for him to blink and take a deep breath.

She notices, "Are you doing alright? Do you need anything?" her voice was full of concern; a tone Adam has rarely heard in his life.