Previously…
– With the threats against her remaining unsolved, Sabrina experienced terrible headaches and nightmares.
– Travis was arrested for Loretta’s murder but released on bail after being arraigned.
– Samantha suffered complications from anesthesia after donating bone marrow to TJ, and Tempest — being a non-family member — was kept from seeing her afterward.

Claire Fisher stands awkwardly in the hospital’s waiting area. She is dressed in jeans, ankle-high black boots, and an oversized knit sweater; being here but not in her scrubs — and with nothing to do — feels exceedingly strange. One hand curls around a paper cup of coffee. A wave of relief surges through her when she sees Travis Fisher entering from the elevator bay.

“You’re really out,” she says as she embraces her son.

“Thank god the judge granted me bail,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Claire steps back and searches his face. “Are you all right?”

“Spending the night in a cell wasn’t ideal, but I’m fine, I guess.”

She nods, swallowing the ache in her chest. “They can’t possibly believe you did this.”

“They sure seem to. Enough to put me in cuffs and arraign me.” He drags a hand through his sandy-colored hair. “I swear I didn’t kill her, Mom.”

“I know you didn’t,” she replies without hesitation.

He looks away, jaw tight. “Rosie‘s furious. Understandably.”

“She can’t think you did this.”

“No. I don’t know. She–” He sighs. “There’s a lot going on. I wasn’t entirely honest with her about that night. Even being at her mom‘s house right now…”

“If you need space, you know you can stay with your dad and I. You aren’t alone in this.”

“You guys are going to have TJ in the house recovering, plus Sonja, and… I don’t know.” He glances toward the double doors that lead to the patient rooms. “Any updates on Sam? How is she?”

“She’s okay. Tempest is in with her now. I bet she’d be thrilled to see you.”

“I’d be thrilled to see her, too.”

“Then go. I’m waiting for your dad. He and Sonja are in with TJ.”

“Things are okay with him?”

Claire offers a clipped nod. “So far, so good. Now go, see your sister. I’ll let your dad know you’re here when he comes out.”

“Thanks, Mom.” He gives her another hug and then steadies himself before he moves through those doors.

—–

The hospital room is quiet except for the steady pulse of monitors and the occasional soft hiss of the oxygen line. Samantha Fisher lies in bed, propped up against pillows, pale but awake.

“You’re really okay,” Tempest Banks says in awe from Samantha’s bedside. “I didn’t know…”

“I still feel kind of… weird,” Samantha says.

Tempest’s eyes flare. “I can get a nurse–“

“No, I’m fine. Really.” Samantha pats Tempest’s wrist. “I swear. I’m just drowsy. They said it was the anesthesia…”

“That’s what they said. Yeah.” Tempest feels her heart fluttering against her ribcage. “Sorry I wasn’t in here the minute they let you have visitors. I tried.”

“My mom told me,” Samantha says with a frown. “It’s so… it’s ridiculous.”

“Fucking stupid,” Tempest mutters. “I was so scared.”

A breath passes between them, fragile but stitched with relief.

“I would’ve been, too,” Samantha says. “But I’m okay. And I should be back on my feet soon. At least that’s what they said.”

“It’s what Claire said, too. And I trust her, at least.”

The moment is broken by a gentle knock on the half-open door. Tempest turns, her hand still atop Samantha’s. Travis stands in the doorway, shoulders tense and face drawn. He tries for a smile.

“Hey,” he says. “Can I come in?”

Samantha brightens. “Of course. Come here.”

He steps into the room but doesn’t come all the way to the bed. His gaze lingers on Samantha, grateful and relieved but still heavy.

Tempest watches him closely.

Samantha tilts her head, noting his strange energy, too. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answers too quickly. “I just wanted to see you.”

Jason Fisher and Alex Marshall sit across from one another in the administrative office on the second floor of Edge of Winter Arena. From downstairs, the tinny replay of Taylor Swift’s rollicking new single, “The Fate of Ophelia,” sounds through the arena as a handful of skaters practice on a midday session.

“She keeps insisting she’s fine,” Jason says wearily. “But I don’t know. These incidents — the graffiti on the car, the cut-up dress, the letter, the fire — it’s all getting to her. She’s having those headaches again, too.”

“She needs to see a doctor,” Alex replies. Half-eaten salads from a nearby takeout spot sit between the men, but the serious conversation about Sabrina‘s mental and emotional state has taken priority over eating.

“She’s making an appointment. Hopefully for as soon as possible. Something weird is going on. I just don’t know what it is.”

“Stress can do weird things to people.”

“I know.” Jason stabs a forkful of salad and moves it to his mouth. He chews pensively before saying, “I just don’t know how weird.”

Alex pauses, his fork hovering above his own biodegradable bowl. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t even know.” Jason sets his fork back down and finishes chewing. “Someone is threatening Sabrina. But I can’t figure out who. My mind is going to the worst possible place…”

He trails off, but Alex begins nodding almost immediately, picking up on his fear.

“It’s not Shannon again,” Alex tells him. “She’s dead. We have proof that she’s dead.”

“It’s tough to trust proof when she came back one time with a whole new face.”

“She’s dead, Jason.”

“She was dead before, and she came back and murdered my wife. Using Sabrina’s name.”

Alex leans forward, elbows pressed onto the edge of Jason’s desk. “Shannon was buried. If you’re really that concerned about it, ask Brent to confirm that. But I really do believe she’s dead and gone this time.”

Jason sighs. “I hope so.”

“Call Brent,” Alex says. “In the meantime, you’re not in this alone. Trevor and I are here for you. Lauren is a phone call away. Plus your family–“

“I know,” Jason says. “Thank you. I just want Sabrina to be safe. Sophie, too. Whoever’s doing this could target her or me at any time.”

A frown crosses Alex’s face. He picks up his fork but simply rakes it through his salad. “I wish there was something more I could do. If you guys ever want to come stay with us, obviously…”

“Thanks. Whoever is doing this got into Helen and Don‘s attic, too, so I don’t know… I don’t want to put anyone else in danger. But I’m kind of freaking out.”

“You need to talk to Brent again, Jason,” Alex says sternly.

“I know.” But Jason’s tone and eyes seem equally helpless. “But what if he can’t do anything? What if no one can?”

—–

Tempest slowly allows Samantha’s hand to drop from hers. “I’ll go… get coffee. Or something,” she says.

“You sure?” Travis asks.

“You guys need a moment,” Tempest replies. She looks between them, then slips out, leaving the siblings in a silence that settles like dust.

Travis pulls a chair toward Samantha’s bedside but doesn’t immediately sit. Even through her grogginess, she notices the tension radiating off him.

“What’s going on?” she asks sharply, lifting her head several inches from the pillows.

“I don’t want you to worry,” Travis says. “But I also don’t want to keep stuff from you.”

“Keep what from me?”

He hesitates. The monitor’s beep suddenly sounds ominous as it fills the room.

“I got arrested,” he spits out. “For Loretta’s– for– they think I killed her.”

Samantha lets out a raspy gasp. “What? Why?”

“I didn’t do it. I promise. But they found some evidence– I don’t know how–“

“What kind of evidence?” she asks. She squints her eyes, as if she might be able to spot the truth even without her glasses, which rest on the bedside table.

“It’s a long story. I don’t totally understand it.” He bows his head. “Conrad is representing me. But Rosie is really pissed. Not just about the arrest. About everything I didn’t tell her.”

“And what didn’t you tell her?”

“That I…” He exhales loudly. “I went there that night. To the house. But I didn’t do anything.”

She eyes him carefully for several long seconds. “You promise?”

“Sam. I promise. For real. Someone even saw me there — but that made Rosie even angrier.”

“Why?”

“It was Elly,” he explains. “And you know how Rosie feels about her.”

“Yeah.” Samantha’s face is clouded with concern.

“I don’t need to stress you out with all this,” Travis says. “It’s under control. I made bail. I have a good lawyer. And I’m worried about you.”

“I’m worried about you, too, Travis,” she says. “So we’re even.”

He swallows hard. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She smiles as she lets her head sink back down into the pillow. “I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

—–

After the men finish their lunch and Alex departs, Jason sends Tempest a quick text to check on both her and Samantha. Then, unable to get the situation out of his mind,  he places a phone call.

The sharp brrrrrring rings in his ear four times before the call goes to voicemail. He listens to Sabrina’s greeting and then says, “Hey. It’s me. Let me know when the appointment is.”

He waits, listening to the faint noise of the air conditioning in the background.

“Because I want to be there,” he adds. “I’m not letting you do this alone.”

—–

The waiting area has thinned out. Claire sits in a chair, staring ahead at the whiteboard that the nurses update every few hours. She notes that the information is several hours old, the marker streaks worn, and is tempted to jump up and fix it — if only to have something to do — when Tempest comes through the swinging doors, looking frayed but all right.

Claire rises immediately. “How was it? How is Sam?”

Tempest shrugs and rubs her palms down the front of her jeans. “She’s good. Yeah. Out of it a little, but good.”

“I’m glad. Samantha is tough. She might not always look like it, but…”

“Nah, she is.” A hollow laugh slips out of Tempest. “A lot tougher than I felt before.”

“I know,” Claire says. “I hated that. It’s rules– protocol.”

“Yeah, well, protocol doesn’t know who I am to her, or who she is to me,” Tempest says. “I’m not some visitor.”

“I know you’re not.”

Tempest blinks rapidly a few times, anger and grief simmering. “What if something happened and I wasn’t in there? What if I’d never…”

She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t have to.

Claire’s voice is low and warm when she responds. “You stayed. Even when you didn’t have to. That says a lot.”

But when Tempest looks up, her face is frantic, seeing a horizon only she can see. Her voice lowers, almost a whisper.

“I know what to do,” she says.

Claire watches her, concern and curiosity mingling over her face.

END OF EPISODE 1275

What plan has Tempest come up with?
Is Samantha wrong to believe Travis?
Will a doctor’s visit help Sabrina?
Talk about it all in the comments below!

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