Steam spills out, curling into the room like a warning.
Lucian steps through the haze, towel draped over his head, black hair damp and curling at the ends. His shoulders are bare, chest still damp with water, and those sweatpants—soft gray, low on his hips—should honestly be a felony. He’s drying his hair, his back leaning against the door, not even looking up yet.
And just like that, I forget how to breathe.
My pulse spikes, heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s trying to break free as a heartbreaking thought flits through my head. Is he wearing those sinful pants to hide the fact that he doesn’t have his prosthetic on? The normal person might just glance past it.
But I can’t.
When his head lifts, when those storm-gray eyes lock on mine, the world just…stops.
His cat keeps purring, soft and unaware, that he’s the only living thing in the room, not about to emotionally combust. I hold him tighter, fingers buried in his fur, like he’s the only barrier between me and the man who ruined me.
Lucian’s gaze flicks to his cat, then back to me. Slowly, like he’s cataloging every difference from our time apart and realizing it’s all still me underneath.
“Celeste?” he says, towel still half over his head. “What are you… What are you doing here?”
The words stumble out, hesitant, not the smooth, steady tone he used to cut through a room with.
I don’t answer. There is nothing I can say to him that doesn’t involve mescreaming.
Lucian lowers the towel slowly, jaw flexing once as his eyes drag across the space between us. He leans forward, cautious, like he’s in the presence of a wild animal that might bolt.
The purring stops as the air around us changes.
“Easy,” Orion says from behind me. Like he’s feeling the tension between his best friend and me, his tone is the picture of forced calm. “Everyone breathe.”
Lucian’s gaze flicks toward him, confusion shadowing his expression. “You gonna tell me why your sister’s standing in our room?”
Orion gives a tired shrug. “She’s pissed, you’re confused, and I’m running on fumes. Let’s just fix two outta three.” Orion nods toward me. “Celeste, he’s seven months post-op, and his doctors signed off on my request last week. His PT says he’s ahead of schedule, and he’s cleared to travel. He’s been doing the work, I figured if you’re down a lead for security, you might as well bring someone I trust.”
I immediately start shaking my head as my body stiffens.
I freeze. “No.”
“Jamie’s out for parental leave,” Orion presses, already bracing for my reaction. “Lucian’s trained, capable, loyal as hell—”
I cut him off with a “NO” at the same time Lucian calmly says, “I’m not a fucking golden retriever.”
The words hit twice—mine sharp as glass, his quieter and calmer.
Orion looks between both of us before settling his assessing eyes on me as he arches a brow. “You wanna tell me why?”
Lucian’s eyes meet mine—calm, assessing, but I can see it. The hesitation and a flicker of guilt. The way his throat works like he’s swallowing words he can’t afford to say.
“Look, she doesn’t want me here,” he says finally, his voice low, careful. No smirk this time, just quiet defeat. “And maybe she’s right.”
Something in my chest fractures anyway.
“That’s literally whatyoufucking wanted.” I throw back before I can stop myself, my voice harsher than I intend, cracked around the edges.
His eyes flash with hurt before it’s gone in the next breath. He straightens, pulling the old armor back on. “I didn’t think you were going to be here,” he says, tone even but softer now. “If I had, I wouldn’t have come.”
Orion looks between us, brow furrowed. “Okay, clearly there’s some—whatever this is—going on, but I didn’t sign up to referee, and I don’t have the patience. You’re both adults, sort it out later.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Right now, I need someone I trust watching my sister’s back. End of story.”
My jaw tightens. “You trust him with my life, but you didn’t trust me enough to tell me he was coming?”
Orion meets my eyes, deadpan. “If I’d told you, you might’ve said no. You’re saying it now.”
