Page 157 of The Backup Plan

His eyes light up and then dim. “I know there’s none when it comes to me, but I also know I asked something of you that you weren’t—aren’t—comfortable with. I don’t want that request to turn into resentment or you feeling like you sacrificed your values for me.”

“You think I could resent you?”

He drops his head for a moment, and when he looks back up, his eyes are glassy. Vulnerable in a way that he hates. “It would be a valid reaction, all things considered.”

“I don’t resent you for fighting to play a game you love. I don’t resent you for asking me. Just like you deciding to play and face the consequences is your decision. My allowing you to do that is my decision too.” I open the door and he steps closer, his forehead resting against mine, hands framing my face like I might disappear if he’s not touching me. “No, Lucas. I might worry about you, but I don’t resent you.”

“In a sense, Jared asked you to give up who you were for him. I don’t want you to think I’m asking the same thing for me.”

I lean back and meet his eyes. “No. It never crossed my mind. You are nothing like Jared. He never once came close to being the man that you are. And for that, I’m exceedingly grateful or I might not be here.”

Lucas brushes a kiss to my lips. It’s tender and reverent—almost as if the kiss alone could quiet all the noise and discord outside of us away.

“I love you, Emery.” He nods, his head moving against mine. “There’s a lot that feels out of control for me right now, but not this. Not you.”

Lucas

The facility feels different when you’re the first one through the doors.

Only half the lights are on, every noise echoes too loudly, and there’s sounds from the weight and PT machines as they are waking up.

I like it this way. Always have. It’s easier to hear my own thoughts when no one else is around.

I drop my bag by my locker and haven’t even changed before my phone rings.

Coach.

I answer on the second ring. “Yeah.”

“Hale,” he says, all business. “When you get in, come and see me?”

“I’m in the locker room. I’ll be right there.”

There’s a pause. “Great.”

Within seconds, I’m standing in his doorway, shutting the door behind me when he asks me to.

“You’re here early,” he says.

“My running partner was tired and canceled on me,” I say thinking about how she was snuggled up against me, too tired from how late we stayed up and talked. “So I figured I’d come in and work out before practice.”

“Dedicated. I like that.”

“Did you need something?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest, so I don’t fidget and show him I’m anxious over being called in.

“Grant, Dr. Porter, Peter, and I met yesterday afternoon. We went over your progress and performance.”

“And?” My chest tightens.

“We decided to rest Cole on Sunday. We’re handing you the ball. You’re starting.”

For a second, I don’t breathe.

Starting.

The word lands like something sacred. Earned. Dangerous.

Something I took for granted hundreds of times before in my career, but this time feels so much more important. Monumental.