Page 167 of The Backup Plan

“He’s in here,” I say, hooking my thumb over my shoulder toward my apartment.

That gives Brendan pause, his eyes darting over my shoulder before narrowing at me. “You must be Emery.” Plain. Matter-of-fact. Zero judgment. There’s relief in his expression, which eases the knot in my chest.

“He’s resting,” I say.

“And how is he doing?” Concern is etched in the lines of his face.

“Handling things better than I expected, which means there’s probably a crash coming and soon.”

“That tracks.” Brendan nods and purses his lips. “It’s rare for Lucas to let someone see him like this. That says a lot. About him. And about you.”

I glance down the hallway and lower my voice. “He means”—my voice breaks—“a lot to me.”

“I think that feeling is mutual.”

I step aside. “You’re welcome to come in. I can wake him—”

He shakes his head. “I can wait for him in his apartment. Last thing I want is to invade your space.” He hesitates, then smiles. “I’ll hang there until he wakes up.”

“Sure. Yes. Um . . . let me get his key for you,” I say and then shut my door to go find it. When I look up, Lucas is standing in the doorway to the bedroom, hair mussed and eyes heavy with sleep.

“Who is it?” he asks.

“Your brother’s here.”

“My brother?” Confusion flickers, then irritation, and even though I can see there’s a sense of relief, he covers it up as soon as he speaks. “Everyone needs to stop worrying. I’m fine.”

But his eyes give him away. He’s confused and angry, trying to hide it behind a mask of indifference.

“He knows you’re fine. I know you’re fine. But that’s what family does, right? Come when you’re in need—or when they think you are.”

He grunts in response.

“He’s waiting for me to get him the key so he can see you when you’re up,” I say.

“I’ll go over. I’m—”

“Fine. Yes. I know.” I draw in a breath. “There’s going to come a time when you’re not, Lucas.”

Instead of responding, he pulls me into him and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is tender and desperate, almost like he’s searching for something steady to keep him propped up.

“I need you, Em,” he murmurs. “I’ve never needed anyone so . . . I don’t know what that means.”

“It means you’re scared,” I say, voice steady even as my chest cracks. “And that’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

He nods once, like that’s all he can manage.

Then he turns and heads across the hall to his brother. To the one person who has known this dream of his longer than anybody. The dream he just lost.

I stand there long after he closes the door, heart aching and the weight of his vulnerability, his loneliness, owning me.

Because I know more than anything that the hardest part hasn’t come yet for Lucas.

And when it does, I’ll be here for him, but I don’t know if that will be enough to keep him afloat.

Lucas

The sky is doing that thing where it looks like it’s both on fire and calm.