Even if what I want could break me.
Ryder
I wake up to snow falling past my window and the house quiet around me.
The clock says six-fifteen. Too early, but my body gave up on sleep around four. Too many thoughts. Too much awareness of Lucy in the room down the hall.
My shoulder aches when I roll out of bed. Six weeks minimum before contact practice. Three weeks down. Three to go.
Three weeks with Lucy before I have to leave.
I pull on sweatpants and a henley and head downstairs. Connor sits at the table with Maisie, building a tower out of her breakfast cereal. Jim reads the paper at the counter.
No Lucy yet.
Footsteps on the stairs. My pulse kicks up.
Lucy walks in wearing dark jeans and a cream sweater. Her hair falls in waves over her shoulders.
Our eyes meet. Hold. Her cheeks flush pink.
"Morning," she says, breathless.
"Morning." Mine comes out rough.
Connor glances between us, but Maisie launches into an explanation of her cereal tower and the moment passes.
Lucy slides into the chair across from mine. I can feel the closeness of her knees to mine.
Emma breezes in and gives Lucy a look that says they'll be talking later.
Lucy's blush deepens.
Breakfast is torture. Every time Lucy moves, I'm aware of it. When she reaches for the jam, her sweater pulls tight across her breasts. When she tucks hair behind her ear, I track the movement. When she licks jam from her thumb, I have to look away.
"Blackwood, you with us?" Connor waves a hand in front of my face.
I blink. "What?"
"I asked if you want more coffee."
"I'm good."
Connor drains his mug. "All right, Maisie. Ready to build that snowman?"
"You in, Blackwood?" Connor asks.
Lucy is watching me with those hazel eyes, and I can't seem to form the word no.
"Yeah. I'm in."
The snow outside packs perfect. Connor works on the base while I handle the middle section. Maisie throws snow in the air and catches it on her tongue.
"Remember that fort? Eighth grade?" Connor asks.
I do. Three days of work. Snow bricks shaped with buckets. His mom brought us hot chocolate every hour.
"Your mom was convinced we'd get frostbite."
