CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rosie
Nobody said a word on the way back to the apartment.
Olly gazed out the window, his bare torso covered by Lucas’s coat.
I sat between the two men, linking my arm with my brother. And Lucas, whose face had been void of any kind of emotion, held my hand tightly. As if I was the one in need of support.
Me, when it had been him on the ground. Me, when he was the one in pain. In pain because of me.
I felt so guilty, I could hardly breathe. That was probably why I slipped into management mode the moment we finally entered Lina’s studio for what was supposed to be my final night. Because I couldn’t allow myself to think too much, either.
I shoved my brother into the bathroom and forced him to take a shower. When he was out, I did the same with Lucas. I took the pair of sweats and hoodie Lucas offered and shoved them in Olly’s hands, making sure he changed into the warm clothes. I prepared tea. I grabbed blankets from the closet and placed them on the armrest of the couch, ready to wrap the two men up in them if they so much as looked chilly. Then, I put ice in a cloth for Lucas, not even knowing if that would help. And after that, I went on a scavenger hunt for painkillers. Because this wasn’t my place, and I didn’t know where Lina might keep some.
“What are you looking for?” Lucas asked as I crouched on the kitchen floor, still in my dress.
“What are you doing, Lucas?” I answered. “Take the ice and go sit down, please.”
“Not until you tell me what you’re looking for.”
“I’m searching for painkillers. For you.” Moving a large pan to one side, I sighed. “I’ve looked everywhere, bathroom, drawers… I have no idea if Lina has any.”
“Rosie,” Lucas said, and his voice made me look up. He didn’t seem happy, which I guessed wasn’t surprising given the circumstances. “There are no painkillers in there. Only pots.”
“You’re right,” I said, coming to a standing position and feeling the still damp fabric shifting against my legs. “There’s a CVS down the street. It should be open.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said simply. “You’re staying right where you are. With me. And you’re getting out of this dress and jumping into the shower, too.”
“But—”
He came forward, getting close, really close. He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “This is not a one-way street, Rosie. You look after me, and I look after you. We take care of each other. We’re a team.”
“A team.” I sighed, my eyelids falling closed.
His thumb swiped along my jaw so softly I could barely feel it. “Yes. So, get in the shower and change into dry clothes. I’ll keep an eye on Olly.”
Afraid of blurting out how good he was and how much I loved him, I just nodded.
On my way to the bathroom, I tried to calm my pulse, all the conflicting emotions threatening to burst out of me. Guilt and gratitude. Love and terrifying fear of getting my heart broken.
Once done with the shower, hair towel-dried, and clad in my pajamas, I opened the bathroom door to Olly wrapped in a blanket on one corner of the couch and Lucas sitting on the floor with his back against the opposite side.
He was pressing the ice pack on his knee and when our gazes met, his eyes warmed. Then, as I stood there in my sleeping shorts, he looked down my bare legs and that warmth turned into heat.
A few hours ago, a look like that would have left me tingling, hoping for more, but now all of that… had soured. Because I had ruined tonight. And I hated it. I hated that I was responsible for him being in pain.
“Come here,” Lucas said, patting the couch cushion behind his head. “I was asking Olly what we should watch.”
I sighed. “It’s so late, Lucas I…”
Before I could properly complain, though, Lucas’s lips curled, giving me a distracting smile. “We all need to unwind, take our minds off tonight. I would cook something but—”
“No.” I instinctively shot forward. Just so he wouldn’t move from where he was. “No cooking or anything that implies being on your feet for you. Stay put.”
He smiled wider, and dammit, it was hard not to feel good seeing that smile.
“I think he’s right, Rosie,” my brother offered.
“You two ganging up on me?” With a sigh, I came to a stop in front of Lucas. “Why don’t you take the couch? There’s enough space for you to stretch your leg.”
He shook his head. “The floor is fine.”
I pinned him with a look.
And instead of fighting me over it, instead of trying to say something that would convince me or make me feel better, he placed the palm of his hand to the side of my thigh. And slowly, ever so slowly, he squeezed. The pads of his fingers were right against my bare skin, and everywhere that our skin touched heated up. Intense awareness spread out, traveling to all parts of my body.
Lucas let his hand rest there as he looked up at me, straight into my eyes. His jaw set into a line, his features serious. “Don’t make me get on my feet and pick you up myself, ángel.” And I knew he meant it. “Because I’ll carry you to the couch if I have to.”
God, this man. “Fine,” I relented.
His hand fell off my skin at the same time as a grunt of agreement left his lips.
Choosing to ignore how that little sound affected me, I plopped myself down on the couch, watching as Lucas repositioned himself so his shoulders and head were between my legs.
He curled the arm that wasn’t holding the ice around my shin. “Now the floor isn’t just fine,” he said quietly. “It’s perfect.”
I laughed, secretly cursing him for thinking he could go around saying stuff like that like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t supposed to make me want to scramble off the couch and camp in his lap.
“Bean?” my brother called from the other side of the couch.
I looked over at him. “Yeah, Olly?”
“Why are we at Lina’s place?”
“That’s a bit of a long story. I’ll be moving back to my apartment tomorrow.”
Lucas nudged my knee with his head, and my hand unconsciously dragged along my thigh, stopping when my fingertips reached his hair. Slipping them in, I absently stroked a few chocolate-colored strands back.
“After I drop you off at Dad’s,” I added, watching with infinite pleasure how Lucas’s head rolled to one side under my touch. “I’ll take the train to Philly with you and then get back to the city.”
“Okay,” Olly accepted without a complaint. And that made me so relieved I barely handled not crying. “I already told your boyfriend while you were in the shower, but… I’m sorry I ruined your night,” he continued, and the man sitting between my legs on the floor, the one whose head was leaning on my thigh and whose hand was latched on my ankle, didn’t utter a word at the label my brother had used. Didn’t even tense or flinch at all. Olly went on, “I owe you an explanation, Rosie. For being an idiot and dragging you into my mess tonight. Because if you had shown up alone, Jimmy—”
“But she didn’t,” Lucas cut my brother off. “And that’s what matters.”
“That’s right. And I know you’re sorry, Olly.” There wasn’t a doubt in my mind or heart about it. Olly was sorry, and this whole ordeal would weigh on him for a long time. “But I need to know what happened, whatever it was.”
Olly nodded, falling so quiet that I thought he wouldn’t say anything, but then he did. “There’s this girl, Lexie. It all started with her really.” He shook his head, and the gesture somehow reminded me of how much he’d changed. How much older he looked now. “It was a bet. I was trying to impress her and… it turned out to be fun. More fun than I thought. And the money was good. That movie isn’t lying.” He chuckled bitterly. “I made enough to come back the next night. But it was because of her that I went back every night after that. To keep an eye on her.”
I swallowed, processing everything he was telling me, coming up with a hundred questions. But the one that seemed to matter the most was, “Is Lexie okay now?”
He nodded. “Yeah, we’re… it doesn’t matter. I got her out of trouble, Rosie. That was why I didn’t want to do it anymore.” His expression turned heavy. “Jimmy is the owner’s right hand, and he wasn’t happy about me quitting. I apparently attracted a good… audience. But I knew that if I involved you, he would let me walk away. He wouldn’t want to attract too much attention or trouble. Calling you was selfish.”
“Oh, sweetie.” I sighed, my heart aching. “I’m your sister. Asking for my help isn’t selfish.”
“But I got your boyfriend hurt. You could have been, too.”
Lucas reacted then, and what he said was, “Jimmy did, not you. And I’d never let anyone hurt Rosie, Olly. Just like I told you earlier.”
“Thanks,” Olly whispered.
Other than that, my brother didn’t say anything else, and neither did the amazing, selfless man nestled between my legs. So, I continued playing with Lucas’s hair for a long time, scratching his scalp gently. And even when his body slumped against my legs, and his chest rumbled against my skin, I still kept going. Because as much as touching Lucas usually left every cell in my body tingling, I was beginning to understand that touching someone you loved was about much more than just that. It wasn’t always about the sparks and the fireworks. Not exclusively. It could also be about the peace it brought you. The comfort. And for all the romances I’d read and the one, almost two, I’d written, I hadn’t known that. I would have never imagined that touching a man could light me up inside and quiet every worry and every noise in the world.
We stayed like that for a long while, none of us paying any attention to what was playing on the TV. Only when Olly’s breath deepened and snores sounded from his side of the couch did I lean forward to whisper in Lucas’s ear.
“Let’s go to bed.”
I moved around him, standing up and offering him both hands. With a tired expression that told me he’d been about to follow my brother’s example, he took them, letting me pull him up.
And just like it happened every time I came within hugging distance of this man, I ended up wrapped in his arms for a long, heavenly moment.
His head dipped. “You did so well tonight, Rosie. So well.”
It felt like I hadn’t done a single thing right tonight. Or lately.
I shook my head and turned around, making my way to the bed.
“Rosie?” Lucas’s hushed voice reached me from where he was, still at the foot of the sofa. “I think that if you help me”—his features hardened as he seemed to think about something—“maybe we can get your brother into the bed.”
“Come here,” I whispered back, throwing open the covers of the bed. But he hesitated, not moving. Turning that tender spot in my chest even softer. “Leave Olly. You sleep here tonight. With me.”
His jaw tensed.
“Lucas Martín,” I said, hearing the edge in my voice, even if hushed, “if you don’t get in this bed, with me, right this second, you’re going to break my heart. And I don’t think I will be able to take it. Not tonight.”
I wasn’t even joking.
Because only a few hours ago, I’d been in his arms, and he’d been kissing me. And as much as we hadn’t talked about it, something had… opened between us. Something more.
All of that must have been written all over my face because Lucas’s hesitation melted away.
Choosing not to ask him for the hundredth time if he was in pain, I joined him in bed and threw the covers over us. I rolled on my side with a long and deep sigh, and faced him while he remained on his back, his head turned toward me.
“Are you comfortable?”
“As much as I’ll ever be, ángel.”
I swallowed, searching his face for the meaning behind that. Was he hurting? Did he regret coming with me tonight? Did he regret kissing me?
“I’m sorry you got hurt, Lucas. I hate that you did, but…” I trailed off, hating myself a little bit for what I was going to say. “Does it make me a horrible person to say that despite everything, I’m glad you were there? With me?”
He shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?” He looked at me as if he was waiting for something. “I would have never let you go in there alone, Rosie. Never.”
I shifted, moving a little closer to him.
Lucas reached out a hand, the pads of his fingers brushing the corner of my lips lightly. Too quickly. “I can’t believe you were ready to hit him with your purse. For me.”
He wasn’t smiling. Or laughing. And I didn’t want to, either, because I had been dead serious about that. “And I can’t believe you stopped me from doing that.”
“You’re always beautiful,” he shocked me by saying, and my heart sped up. “But seeing you like that? Ready to claw your way forward to protect me?” He paused, his eyes filling with something that would have been awe if not for the heavy and sultry quality that coated them. “You were breathtaking. Like an avenging angel. I had to stop myself from kissing you there and then.”
My lips parted, and my face flushed. Not from embarrassment, but from the wave of need that in that moment washed over my whole body. Because Lucas was not only saying he’d wanted to kiss me, but he was also looking at me like he’d die if he didn’t.
“We shouldn’t,” he breathed out. “It’s late, and we should get some sleep.”
Reluctantly, I nodded.
Lucas added, “My leg will be better tomorrow, I promise.”
I didn’t believe him. But I loved him for still trying. “You told me I could ask you anything, always, so I want to know about something.” He nodded. “Why do you have nightmares?”
Lucas tried to roll on his side and winced in pain.
“The accident,” he admitted, falling quiet for a full minute. “It’s ironic because I’m drowning in those nightmares. And that was not how it happened. It’s as if my head has come up with new different ways to haunt me in my sleep.” A long and shaky breath left his lips. “I haven’t been able to bring myself to talk about it, not since it happened.”
I scooted closer to him. “Why?”
“There hasn’t been anyone I’ve… wanted to tell, until now. Someone who wouldn’t want to fix me. Because there’s nothing left to fix, Rosie.”
Fix him? Didn’t he see that he was perfect? There was nothing about Lucas that needed fixing. “You can’t fix something that’s not broken, Lucas.”
He reached an arm around my waist, bringing me closer to him. “I was prepping for a competition in Hossegor, weeks before Lina’s wedding,” he said, voice like gravel. And just like that, I knew that he was going to open up. He was finally going to talk about it. With me. And I felt the luckiest woman in the world to have him trust me first.
“Hossegor?”
“In France,” he paused. “It’s not a particularly dangerous beach but… there’s this one spot with one of my favorite breaks. Rosie”—he sighed, and it was somehow hopeful, happy—“it’s such a beautiful place. The conditions have to be right, but the wave can hold shape up to three meters, which is almost ten feet, I think. Big, wonderful waves. That’s why I’d always try to visit at least once a year. Even if some days it’s just close-outs you can’t ride.”
He was talking with a kind of passion I recognized. It was the same one I heard in my voice when I talked about writing. About my dream. Or the one I’d seen glimpses of in him when he talked about cooking.
“The problem with that spot, though,” he continued, his tone no longer the same, “is the shore break. If you’re riding a wave that breaks directly onshore, it can propel your body out and onto the sand. With that speed and force, it’s like hitting concrete. You can break your neck. Damage your spinal cord. Or your extremities if you fall in a certain way.” His voice broke, his eyes fluttering closed. “And I knew all of that. I knew the risks. It’s a gnarly place, reserved for pros for a reason. And yet…”
And yet it somehow happened.
My palm landed on his chest, and I could feel his heart pounding under my fingers.
“And yet,” he repeated, still not finishing the statement, his breath going in and out of his lungs in a broken rhythm, “my knee was shattered. I needed surgery. Everything was…” A ghostly expression that broke my heart in a million pieces came over him. I wanted to scream at the injustice of the accident, at all the things he’d lost, and I wanted to somehow return them all to him. “I’ll never be able to get that back. My right leg just… I can’t, Rosie. I’m too old to do it all over again, to recover and climb back to top form. Physical therapy would get me back to fine—not great, not prime shape, just fine.”
I cupped his jaw, grazing my thumb over his cheek.
“One hit. That was all it took. One bad hit and I…” he trailed off, looking disoriented for a few seconds. “I went under, Rosie. Sunk straight to the bottom.”
“You didn’t,” I told him, slipping my fingers in his hair, clasping the back of his neck. “You’re here. Breathing. Whole. Alive.”
Lucas’s features pinched.
“You lost so much that day, and yet, you’re here,” I repeated, allowing myself to say what he needed to hear. “You’re not the same, and you don’t need to be. Because you’re here, with me. Opening your eyes every morning and smiling at the world in a way only you know how to do. You lost something, but you didn’t lose everything, Lucas. You didn’t lose yourself; you just… changed.”
He tilted his head, resting his cheek against my wrist.
And after a heartbeat, both his arms were around me, and he was saying, “Ven aquí.”
I didn’t recognize the Spanish words, but it didn’t matter because I knew what they meant. Come here. Closer.
So I went to him. Because where Lucas was concerned, I’d never hesitate. And so, I curled against his chest, resting my head over his heart.
“You’re right. I’m right here, ángel,” he whispered before brushing his lips on the top of my head. “And I can’t believe I found you.”
He was wrong. He hadn’t found me.
I had.