Page 116 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

I spin, and there she is—Lucy—standing just inside the doorway, smiling like the world hasn’t been chewing me up all morning.

I cross the space between us and pull her close. The kiss starts soft, but the relief of seeing her makes it linger.

She leans into me, her hand pressing flat against my chest.

“I missed you,” I murmur against her lips.

“I missed you too,” she says, cheeks flushing the way they always do.

For a second, nothing else exists. Not the Larks. Not Darnell’s disappointment. Not the knot in my gut.

“Get a room,” Greg’s voice cuts in, sharp and mocking. “Or are you two gonna keep putting on a show?”

I turn slowly, irritation flaring hot and fast.

Lucy’s fingers curl slightly into my shirt—keeping me from losing it.

“Chill out, Greg,” I warn. “We’re just saying hello.”

Greg smirks. “Yeah, sure. Just don’t let her get in your head, Sharpe. Wouldn’t want you losing focus.”

Before I can respond, Meredith appears at his side, rolling her eyes. “Ignore him,” she says to Lucy. The gentleness in Meredith’s voice surprises me almost as much as Greg’s silence. “He’s in one of his moods.”

“I plan to,” Lucy replies easily, her smile polite but cool.

Darnell claps his hands loudly. “Alright! Enough soap-opera drama. Let’s race.”

The tension breaks just enough for us to move on.

I take Lucy’s hand as we line up, giving it a squeeze. Her eyes are bright now—competitive and excited. I forget, sometimes, that she has this side.

The engines roar.

And then she takes off.

I blink as Lucy clips the first turn clean and fast, body leaning instinctively into the curve.

Where the hell did that come from?

We chase her, but she’s smooth and confident. When I pull alongside her, she grins and darts ahead again, leaving me eating dust.

The race ends with Lucy crossing first.

Darnell throws his hands up. “No way. Absolutely not.”

Lucy climbs out of her kart laughing. “My dad used to take me to a track outside town,” she admits.

“You’ve been holding out on us,” I say, draping an arm over her shoulders. “That was impressive.”

“I aim to surprise,” she says lightly.

Greg snorts as he walks past. “You letting your girl win, Sharpe?”

I don’t even look at him.

“Hey,” I say to Lucy instead, my voice softer. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Her smile fades just a touch. “Yeah. Of course.”