“I guess all firsts are weird,” I chuckle, and I feel my cheeks heat. “Well, not all firsts,” I add. And Luke blushes too, his eyes shining so brightly.
“No, that was fucking awesome,” he grins. “One for the books,” he puffs his chest out proudly. “We nailed that one, baby. We’ll nail this too at some point.” There’s a finality to his words, images of that night on the rooftop, our first kiss, flashing through my head. It was perfect. Even back then, I knew I was lying when I told Luke that we could only be friends. No way I could ever, in any version of this universe, bejustfriends with Luke Carrington.
“We will,” I whisper, and I mean it. I believe it. I have faith in us.Us.
“And no more apologies,” he looks at me teasingly. “Or I’m gonna have to subject you to the ultimate weapon.”
“What?” I snort because I’m curious where this is going. You never know with Luke.
“Love Story,” he says solemnly. “My mom’s favorite movie.” I blink at him, because this is coming out of nowhere, like an off-course puck. “You have no idea how many times I’ve been subjected to Ali McGraw and Ryan O’Neal wearing douche autumn colors while they freeze their 1970s asses off in some park in Boston or New York. But the movie’s got this one phrase,” he blabbers on, his fingers toying with my hair. “It’s always stuck with me. The truth of it somehow.”
“What?” I ask, entranced by the sudden seriousness on Luke’s face.
“It’s spoken twice, in two very different contexts, but both times always make me and Mom cry like fucking babies. It’s just the saddest fucking movie ever, you know? I mean,Titanic, go eat your heart out.”
“Jeez, will you tell me already?!” I groan impatiently. “What’s the phrase?”
“‘Love means never having to say you’re sorry,’” he says quietly. “So no moresorrys, baby,” he blinks at me. “Never apologize for being you. Because being you makes me want you even more, Cody.” Leaning in, Luke kisses my forehead before he reaches for the comforter, pulling it up around first my shoulders, then his own. I can tell he’s smiling from the tone of his voice. “So don’t make me put on that movie or you’ll forever belong to theUgly Criers Club,” he slurs, tiredness seeping through his voice. But as he snuggles up against me, one word stands out among the rest, blinking at me like a green light in the darkness. Love. Love. Love.
Did Luke just tell me he loves me?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Luke
It’s still dark outsidewhen I wake up to Cody whimpering next to me. At first, I think that he’s having a nightmare—he has them from time to time, often about Danny or his dad—but then his frail voice cuts through the darkness, his fingers clawing at my back.
“Luke?” I recognize the undertone of pain in his voice, and when I reach out to touch him, his hair is drenched with sweat, and he’s shivering like a leaf. In a flash, I’m up, turning the bedside lamp on, then back by his side.
“Baby, what is it?” I ask, reaching for him and pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. He’s impossibly pale, his forehead beading with drops of cold sweat, his eyes blinking against the intrusive light. “Are you sick? Do you have a fever?”
“It’s my knee,” he cries, wincing when he moves, and for a minute, he looks like he’s going to pass out, his eyes rolling back in his head. Shit. I can’t have it. I can’t have Cody in pain like this. It hurts me physically, too.
“Let me have a look,” I say, trying to put as much calm into my voice as possible. His hands are clenching the sheets now, his teeth biting into his bottom lip. Lifting the blanket away from his lower body, I notice it instantly. The angry red skin around this knee. How swollen it is. That motherfucker Dennis! He did this. I’m going to fuck him up. Once I get my hands on him, I’m going to—a loud groan leaves Cody’s lips and I pull the blanket back up around him, tucking it carefully around his shoulders like he’s made of glass.
“Stay here. Don’t move, okay, baby?” I brush my fingers along his clammy cheek, and he nods, his raspy voice coming out clipped, labored, his teeth clattering against each other, “Ok—okay, Luke.”
“I’ll be right back,” I reassure him. Jumping from the bed, I quickly pull on some random sweats from the floor—could be mine, could be Cody’s—and grab a team hoodie hanging over the back of my chair. Cody’s small whimpers fill the room, feeling like small stabs to my heart. Once I’m dressed, I lean in over the bed and press a quick kiss to his forehead, while murmuring, “It’s okay, baby. I’ll be right back.”
On my way to the bathroom, I grab my phone from the bedside table and once I’m out of earshot of Cody, I pull up Dr. Matthews’ number on my screen. As the lead team physician, it’s mandatory to call him first in case of any injury. He answers on the second ring, his voice groggy with sleep.
“This better be important, Carrington,” he groans, the sound of sheets ruffling in the background.
“It is,” I say, and he must notice the seriousness in my voice because he immediately goes into professional doctor mode.
“Give me the details.” I hear paper rustling as I start telling him about Cody. For a second, I contemplate keeping the knowledge of Cody’s past injury to myself, but this is serious, and I know Matthews needs the full picture to assess the situation. So, I tell him everything, answering his questions as well as I can. Eventually, he sighs. “Give him some Tylenol and then meet us down at UCHealth. Go straight to the Orthopedic Department. I’ll call ahead.”Us. Out of everything he says, that little pronoun stands out.Of course. He needs to call Coach. As soon as I’ve croaked out myokay, he hangs up.
I look at my reflection in the mirror above the sink and I almost don’t recognize myself. My eyes are spilling over with worry, my mouth nothing but a grim line tearing through my face. My cheeks are flushed, my hair sticking out. I turn on the faucet and quickly splash some water on my face. I contemplate brushing my teeth, too, but then a loud whimper pierces through the quiet.
“Luke?”
“Hang on, baby,” I call out over my shoulder. “Be right there.” I try to put as much reassurance into my voice, but the truth is, I’m freaking out. I open the cabinet below the sink and grab a packet of Tylenol. Then I jog to the kitchen, getting a bottle of water.
Back in the bedroom, Cody is sitting up, his hair plastered against his forehead. He’s put on a T-shirt, wearing it inside out, and he’s trying to put on a pair of sweats, pain painted across his face.
“Here, let me help you.” I go to his side, sitting down carefully next to him. “Take these,” I hold out my hand toward him, two Tylenol resting in the palm of my hand. As soon as he takes the pills, I uncap the water bottle and hand it to him. He throws down the pills and finishes the water in two large gulps. “You okay?” I ask, but clearly, he’s not okay. He shakes his head at me,tears falling from his eyes. He looks so scared and on instinct, I reach out and pull him against me, tucking his head against my neck.
“I’m scared, Luke.” He sniffles against my skin. “I’m so fucking scared.”
