"Sure."
He positions himself next to me. Takes three selfies. Then he leans in, voice dropping.
"So what really happened with Sienna? The stuff she's saying online, is any of that true? Because man, she's making you look like a real asshole."
My jaw goes tight. "I don't talk about my personal life."
"Come on. Just between us. Was she really that crazy, or did you do something to set her off? Because the way she tells it—"
"I said I don't talk about it." My voice is flat. Cold.
The guy holds up his hands. "Whoa. Touchy subject. My bad."
He backs away, but the damage is done. My chest is tight. My hands are fists.
Then Lucy is there. Stepping between me and the guy with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
"Sir, if you're not here to shop, I'm going to have to ask you to move along. We've got paying customers waiting."
"I was just talking to—"
"I know who you were talking to. And I know you were being rude about things that are none of your business." Her voice isstill pleasant, but there's steel underneath. "So unless you want to buy something, please leave."
The guy mutters something and walks away.
Lucy turns to me. "You okay?"
I stare at her. This woman who just stepped in front of me like a shield. Who protected me from invasive questions without making a scene.
"Yeah," I say, and my voice comes out rough. "Thank you."
"People forget you're human. That you have feelings and boundaries." She squeezes my arm. Quick. "That guy was an ass."
"I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't have to be."
She holds my gaze. In the middle of the crowded market, she looks at me like I matter. Like I'm more than a hockey player or a tabloid story.
She sees me.
Lucy Wright sees me. All of me. The broken parts and the scared parts and the parts I don't show anyone.
And she's still here.
"Come on," she says. "Let's get hot chocolate. I need a break, and you look like you could use some sugar."
We walk through the market with white lights twinkling overhead and snow crunching under our boots.
She doesn't touch me, but I'm aware of her every second. The way she walks close enough that our arms almost brush.
We get hot chocolate from a cart. Find a bench near the gazebo, away from the crowd.
Lucy sits close. She doesn't move away.
"Better?" she asks.
"Getting there."
