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Mike Wheeler sat on the cold sidewalk outside the house, boots planted in a dusting of fresh snow. His black winter coat was zipped all the way up, breath puffing in the chilly air. Beside him, bundled into her puffy purple coat with matching mittens, sat his daughter, Lainey. Her hair—two neat pigtail braids he had fumbled through that morning—stuck out from under her knitted hat, swinging whenever she moved.
She was grinning like she could barely contain the joy inside her small body.
“Dada!” she squealed just as she launched a lopsided snowball straight at his chest.
Mike turned at the last second, eyes widening. Pft! The snowball burst against his coat.
“You little sneak!” His face split into an exaggerated grin. “Oh, you’re on!”
He lunged to his feet with a wild smile, scooping up a handful of snow and crouching to pack it. Lainey shrieked with laughter and bolted around him—tiny boots slipping, arms pumping—as she circled behind him.
He spun, ready to throw, still laughing.
And then he saw it.
Her purple coat. In the street.
“Lainey—stop!”
His voice cracked with panic. He tore forward, breath vanishing from his lungs.
A black SUV turned the corner.
A horn blared—too loud, too late.
The impact sent Lainey flying across the asphalt, her small body twisting unnaturally before landing in the snowbank on the other side.
The world seemed to freeze.
The SUV screeched to a stop. The driver jumped out, shouting something Mike couldn’t hear over the roaring in his ears.
“Lainey!” Mike sprinted into the street, slipping as he dropped to his knees beside her.
Will Byers pushed his son Oliver’s stroller through the crowded mall toy store. The warm air smelled like plastic packaging and cinnamon from a nearby pretzel stand. Ollie—finally asleep—was bundled in his coat, one chubby hand resting outside his blankets.
Will kept glancing at the shelf tags, mentally tallying gifts. Presents for their extended family. A couple more things for Steve’s kids. He and Mike had already bought plenty for Oliver and Lainey. Mike’s presents were wrapped and hidden at his Joyce’s house, like every year.
His phone buzzed.
He pulled it out of his pocket.
Mike Wheeler calling.
“Hey, baby, what’s up?” Will answered, smiling automatically.
“Okay so—don’t freak out on me…”
Will’s stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“Me and Lainey were playing in the snow and she ran into the road and…” Mike’s voice wavered. “She got hit by a car.”
“What?!” Will’s voice cracked louder than he meant, and Oliver startled awake, immediately screaming.
Will rocked the stroller, bouncing it in place with one arm. “Why weren’t you watching her!?”
“I’m sorry, Will. I’m so sorry,” Mike’s voice broke. “We’re at the hospital—she’s getting an x-ray for her arm but otherwise she seems okay. She’s just… really emotional.”
“We’ll be there as soon as possible,” Will said breathlessly. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Will hung up and immediately crouched to soothe Oliver. “Hey, Ollie… bub… it’s okay,” he whispered, tucking the pacifier into his mouth. Oliver whimpered, tears drying on his cheeks.
“We gotta go see your sister,” Will murmured, lifting him gently. After a minute of bouncing, Ollie calmed, sagging against his shoulder.
Will buckled him into the car seat, tucked the NASA blanket from Dustin around him, and climbed into the freezing front seat. The heater sputtered painfully slow.
“Please fall asleep,” Will whispered as he pulled out.
The drive to the hospital felt longer than ten minutes. His hands were tight on the wheel. Hospitals were… hard. Even not-Hawkins ones. But for Lainey—he would walk through fire.
By the time he parked, Oliver was asleep again. Will lifted him, adjusting the blanket around him, and hurried inside.
The lobby smelled like disinfectant and old coffee. Will approached the front desk where a curly-haired woman looked up with polite boredom. Carla, her badge read.
“Hi, I’m looking for Lainey Wheeler-Byers. I’m her father.”
She typed, paused, squinted.
“Sir, her father is already here.”
Will forced a smile. “Her other father.”
“Oh!” Understanding dawned. “Do you have ID?”
He dug through his coat one-handed, produced his wallet, and soon had a sticker reading *William Byers* slapped onto his chest.
Room 355.
When he stepped inside, his heart clenched.
Lainey sat curled in Mike’s lap, face buried in his chest. Her braids were gone; her soft brown hair was mussed and tangled. A bright purple cast covered her right arm. Fresh stitches cut across her eyebrow. Her cheeks were bruised. She was wrapped in her ballerina pajamas—the emergency pair from the car.
“Hey, baby,” Will whispered.
Lainey didn’t look up. Mike rubbed her back in small circles.
“Hey, sweetie,” Mike murmured to her. “Daddy’s here.”
Slowly, she lifted her head. Her eyes were red, lashes clumped with dried tears. When she saw Will, her lip trembled.
“Lay…” Will breathed, sitting beside them. “What happened, honey?”
“I—I got hurt,” she sniffled, fingers clutching at Mike’s sweater sleeve.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Will brushed a loose strand from her forehead, careful not to touch the stitches.
She melted back into Mike’s chest, exhausted.
“Did they give her anything?” Will asked softly.
“Ibuprofen. Something mild,” Mike said. “They think she’s okay, but they’re keeping her overnight just to monitor her.”
Will nodded. “Ollie can’t stay here. Someone needs to pick him up.”
“Already called your mom,” Mike said. “She’s on her way. And she’s bringing Lainey’s things.”
Will let out a breath and squeezed Mike’s hand.
Over the next hour, Lainey drifted in and out of sleep. Mike laid her gently in the hospital bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin.
Oliver slept in Will’s arms, small breath warm against his neck.
A nurse entered quietly. “Hello, dad. And you are…?”
“I’m her other dad,” Will said softly.
The nurse nodded, scribbling something on a clipboard. “How’s she doing?”
“Really tired,” Mike said. “And when she’s awake she’s super grumpy.”
“Which isn’t normal for her,” Will added.
The nurse smiled. “She’ll feel like herself again soon. Kids bounce back faster than adults ever do.”
Joyce came to pick up Oliver, kissing both Mike and Will on the head, fussing over Lainey before leaving with Ollie bundled in her arms.
The room grew quiet.
A faint scent of antiseptic hung in the air, sharp even through Will’s anxiety. He sat in the hard plastic chair beside Lainey’s bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were white.
Mike paced in the small space between the bed and the door. His boots scuffed the tile with every turn. He kept rubbing his palms down the sides of his jeans, over and over, as if he couldn’t stop replaying what happened.
Lainey lay half-asleep under the soft hospital blanket. Her casted right arm was propped carefully on a pillow, and her hair—no longer in braids—spread messily across the little white pillow. Her eyes fluttered every now and then, unfocused. Each time she blinked up at the too-bright fluorescent lights, she whimpered softly.
When she spoke, her voice was slurred at the edges.
“Daddy… Papa…”
“We’re right here, honey,” Will whispered. He brushed her bangs back, careful of the stitches along her eyebrow.
Mike swallowed hard and sat on the edge of the bed opposite Will, gently rubbing circles on the back of Lainey’s good hand. She leaned toward his touch, groggy and heavy-lidded.
Lainey dozed off again, her breathing soft and shaky. The door clicked shut after a nurse’s quiet check-in, and the silence left behind felt thick.
Will exhaled slowly, staring at his daughter’s small form under the blanket. His mouth opened, then closed. He looked down at his hands.
“I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he finally said, voice low. “Back at the mall. I just—” His throat tightened. “I was terrified.”
Mike’s eyebrows lowered, his expression softening. He shook his head. “No, Will. You had every right. I should’ve kept my eyes on her. I let my guard down.”
“Mike…” Will’s voice cracked. “You didn’t do it on purpose.”
“But I should’ve seen her.” Mike stared at the floor. “I should’ve grabbed her sooner. I keep hearing the impact in my head—” His breath hitched. “I thought I killed her, Will.”
Will stood, moved to him, and wrapped his arms around Mike’s shoulders. Mike folded into him immediately, burying his face into Will’s chest. His breath trembled against Will’s shirt.
“You didn’t,” Will whispered fiercely, rocking him slightly. “She’s okay. She’s right here. And you got her to the hospital so fast. You kept her safe after the worst part.”
Mike nodded, shoulders loosening beneath Will’s hands. “I’m so sorry.”
Will cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry too.”
His voice softened. “We’re her dads. We handle things together, remember?”
Mike leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “Yeah. Together.”
Around one in the morning, Lainey stirred. Her eyes cracked open, unfocused, drifting between them.
“Papa… I feel… heavy.”
“You’re on medicine, sweetheart,” Mike murmured. He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “It’s okay. Just rest.”
Her eyelids drooped again, but she breathed unevenly, a few little whines escaping as she shifted her casted arm.
“Ow…” she whispered.
Will leaned closer. “Do you want Daddy to hold you? I can sit you up.”
She nodded weakly.
Together, they lifted her carefully. She melted against Will’s chest, her cheek pressed to the soft fabric of his shirt, her legs bent over his lap. Mike tucked the blanket around her and slid his hand into hers.
Her breathing steadied after a few minutes, and she drifted back off—groggy, limp with exhaustion.
Mike rested his head on Will’s shoulder, watching the rise and fall of their daughter’s back.
Sunlight filtered through the blinds, pale and thin. Lainey blinked awake, groggy but more alert than the night before. She rubbed her eyes clumsily with her good hand.
“Daddy… Papa… I’m… hungry.”
Will laughed under his breath, relieved.
“There she is.”
Mike leaned over her. “How’s your arm feel, bug?”
She stared at the cast for a long, dramatic moment.
“…purple.”
Both dads chuckled.
The nurse arrived shortly after for one last check. Lainey tolerated it with loud, sleepy grumbles, then perked up only when she learned she could go home soon.
When they lifted her from the bed, she swayed a little in Will’s arms—still groggy—but nuzzled into his neck and whispered, “I wanna see Ollie.”
“We’re picking him up first,” Will promised.
Oliver toddled across the living room the second they walked in. His NASA blanket trailed behind him like a cape.
“Laineyyy!” he squealed.
Lainey gave a sleepy smile. “Hi, Ollie…”
He reached out and tapped her cast gently, eyes wide.
“Lainey boo-boo.”
She nodded solemnly. “Yep. A big boo-boo.”
Oliver gasped so hard he wobbled. Will steadied him with a hand to his back.
“She’s okay,” Will said softly. “We’re all okay.”
The house felt warmer than usual when they returned. The heater hummed softly. The comforting smell of the pine-scented candle Steve had gifted them hung faintly in the air.
Lainey moved slowly, still a little out of it. She stayed pressed to one of her dads at all times, clinging softly to Mike’s sleeve or hooking two fingers in Will’s sweater.
By dinner she perked up enough to eat applesauce and tiny bites of mac and cheese. Oliver sat beside her, watching her cast like it might do a magic trick.
When bedtime rolled around, the real challenge began.
Lainey sat on the closed toilet lid while Will tried brushing her teeth. She kept leaning sideways from grogginess, bumping his arm.
“Sweetheart, try to stay still,” Will said gently, steadying her head.
“I’m tiiiired,” she mumbled, leaning fully into his chest.
“I know, honey.” He kissed her hair. “Two more seconds.”
They managed toothbrushing. The pajamas, though…
Mike held up her usual dog set. “Uh… we need something that fits over the cast.”
“No dogs?” Lainey pouted.
Mike shook his head sympathetically. “Not tonight. The sleeve is too tight. But look…” He held up a larger shirt. “These are soft. Daddy says you can wear his shirt if you want instead.”
Her eyes lit a little. “Your shirt… the soft one?”
Mike chuckled. “Yeah. The blue one.”
She nodded firmly. Decision made.
They got her into a large soft T-shirt that fell almost to her knees. Mike carefully threaded her cast into the sleeve hole, making sure nothing tugged at the edges of her bandages.
Then came the part she dreaded—lying down.
“Ow…” she whispered as she settled on her pillow.
“I know, baby,” Mike soothed, lifting her arm to the pillow they’d placed at her side. “We’re gonna prop it just like the nurse showed us.”
Will smoothed her hair back. “Is that better?”
“…yeah.”
Oliver toddled into the room holding his blanket. “Nigh-night Lainey,” he said sweetly.
Lainey smiled at last, drowsy eyes soft. “Nigh-night, Ollie.”
Will scooped Ollie up and carried him to bed while Mike stayed with Lainey.
She blinked up at him, heavy-lidded.
“Don’t go?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Mike whispered, sitting at her bedside and laying his hand over her good one. “I’m right here.”
When Will returned, he climbed onto the other side of the bed and stroked the back of her hand.
The room was dim, quiet except for the soft hum of the baby monitor from Ollie’s room and the faint winter wind outside.
Lainey finally exhaled deeply… and drifted to sleep.
Will leaned against Mike on the couch after both kids were asleep. The house felt still, peaceful again.
Mike exhaled shakily. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.”
Will intertwined their fingers. “Me either.”
Mike rested his head on Will’s shoulder. “Thanks for… forgiving me.”
Will kissed his temple. “Thanks for forgiving *me.* We panicked. We’re human.”
“We’re parents,” Mike corrected softly.
Will smiled.