“Oh well,” I say, grin hot and real. “I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you again: I am not fragile like a flower. I’m fragile like a bomb. Once I have the tools I need I can be unstoppable.”
The room explodes into the kind of laughter, Selene whistles while Theo whoops, and Morgan bows theatrically.
“I’d pay good money to see you throw Lucian,” Selene says as she leans forward putting her elbows on her knees, her eyes glittering with mischief.
Lucian’s mouth quirks, amused and playfully offended. “You’d pay to watch your sister toss me? That’s a new low, Selene.” His tone is teasing, but there’s a softness under it.
Morgan grins, as she rubs her palms together and stretches her shoulders like someone who’s just finished a workout. She glances at her phone and frowns. “I didn’t realize how late it is. Orion should be arriving in about an hour. I should get home so I can have time to shower before he gets here.” Morgan slips her feet into her sneakers before standing and making her way to the door.
A soft thump on the stairs announces Valkyrie before I see her. She pads to the room with her blanket clamped between her teeth so it trails between her legs like a banner. She trots into the living room with the solemnity of a creature on a mission, before dropping the blanket into Selene’s lap, and gives a single, disgruntled snort as if to say,“bedtime, now.”
Lucian watches it all and lets a smile break across his face. His hand finds mine, as his thumb brushes my knuckles. He stands, the motion quiet and decisive. “I guess that’s our cue to leave.”
We gather our things like we’re closing up a small, private show. The house feels softer somehow, the noise settling intocomfortable hums as we drift toward the door. Outside, Lucian’s SUV waits under the streetlight, its dark shape a quiet promise of home. He opens the passenger door for me with the ordinary courtesy he always gives, and for a second the ordinary feels like everything. He slides into the driver’s seat, starts the engine, and we pull away, our headlights cutting through the night as we head back to Theo’s house, the small town folding itself around us like a familiar map.
34
Lucian
My phone buzzes on the counter, vibrating against the granite like it’s impatient with me. The clinic’s name flashes across the screen. I stare at it for a beat, my jaw tight with annoyance. I could let it go to voicemail. I want to, but if it’s my doctor, I don’t get that luxury.
I swipe to answer. “Sterling.”
“Lucian!” Kelsey’s chipper voice grates through the speaker. Turns out her voice isn’t just grating in the morning, it’s annoying at all hours of the day. “I’m just calling to check in. How are the exercises going? Are you experiencing any pain? Any setbacks with your training?”
Her cheer scrapes across my nerves. I should’ve let it ring. “Everything is fine.”
There’s a pause. The brightness drains out of her voice like someone pulled the plug. “What do you mean, just fine? You know I don’t like ‘just fine’.”
I rub a hand over my face. “It’s nothing. I had a little fall, and my knee’s pissed off. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Lucian,” she snaps, and I can practically see the expression she’s given me hundreds of times, her brows pinched as she purses her lips; it’s the look she gets when she’s disappointed. “That is a big deal. That’sregression. We need to do a Telehealth session immediately so I can assess you.”
I tip my head back, staring at the ceiling like it might offer me patience. “It’s not necessary. I’ll be better in a few days. Falling is part of the process. You tell me that all the time.”
“No,” she says, firmer now. “It’s not fine, Luce. Not until I see you. We’re setting it up tomorrow, that’s non-negotiable.”
My jaw locks as heat crawls up the back of my neck. “Kelsey—”
“And until then?” she cuts me off, her voice syrupy but edged like a scalpel. “No training her. You promised me you’d be smart, and pushing through pain isn’t smart. You could injure yourself further.”
I breathe through my nose, trying to find patience. “Fine. We’ll do the Telehealth visit.”
“Good.” Her voice brightens again. “I’ll send you my availability for tomorrow.”
I grunt and hang up before she can say anything else. Kelsey’s voice still buzzes in my head, too sharp, too pushy, too certain she knows better. She always talks like my injury is the whole story instead of just one chapter.
Soft footsteps move across the hardwood behind me. Hearing the now familiar cadence of Celeste’s steps pulls my shoulders down from around my ears.
“Who was that?”
I look up as she steps further into the kitchen. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, still damp at the ends from her shower. She is wearing one of her two-piece sets, the sage greenone that looks like it was sewn directly onto her skin. The fabric hugs her in a way that feels almost unfair. How am I expected to keep my hands to myself when she wears things like this?
“PT, Kelsey called to check in on me,” I say, my words clipped from exasperation. I do not want to talk about Kelsey or her tone or the way she treats a twinge like a catastrophe.
“Is she giving you hell again?” Celeste asks. The question is casual, but her gaze is not as she searches my gaze for something.
I grunt in response.
