Lucas (Cold Fury Hockey 8)

"I'm taking the next flight back to Raleigh," I say suddenly, and Max's head whips to me.

"No fucking way," he says hotly.

"Were you not just telling me I had to try?" I throw back at him as the plane taxis toward the terminal.

"Well, yeah...but not at the expense of a play-off game, Lucas. Jules said she's fine and she's getting out of the hospital tomorrow."

"Yeah, but she'll be there by herself tonight," I say as I pull up Safari on my phone to search flights back to Raleigh.

"The baby is fine," Max practically sputters, unwilling to believe I'm going to ditch my team and the play-offs.

"Yes, but Stephanie isn't," I say assuredly. I know this is the right thing to do. It's what I fucking should have done two months ago when we started this journey together. I should have rubbed her face in my feelings so she'd get used to it. I should have never played it casual with her, because from day one, there was nothing casual about what we had with each other.

"Lucas," Max says softly.

I look up from my phone and lock eyes with him. "Don't try to talk me out of this."

His lips curve upward and he inclines his head at me. "I was just going to say good luck and hurry back. The team needs you too."

I smile at him. "I will. I just want to see her and make sure she's okay, then I'll hop on the next plane back. I won't make tomorrow's game but I'll be back by game four."

"You better run this by Coach, you know," Max says.

"I will," I say as I go back to browsing flights. "But nothing he says is going to change my mind."

"You always were a hardheaded motherfucker," Max mumbles, and I just grin because he is so right about that.

--

"What do you mean she's not here?" I ask the woman sitting behind the information desk in the hospital lobby.

"She was never admitted, sir," the woman tells me as she peers at her computer screen behind thick glasses. She has to be a hundred years old and I wonder if she's reading it right. I have to restrain myself from leaping behind the desk so I can look at her screen. Finally, she looks up and she must see my worried expression, because she glances around the lobby before leaning toward me and whispering, "I'm not supposed to tell you this, but it looks like she checked out against medical advice."

"What does that mean?" I whisper back to her as I lean over the desk.

"It means she was going to be admitted but she refused."

God, that woman takes fucking independence to a dangerous level.

"Thank you," I mutter to the woman, and bolt out the automatic sliding doors.

Stephanie's apartment is a good twenty minutes from the hospital, and for the life of me, I can't fathom why she'd go home by herself with a broken wrist and a concussion. It's fucking insane.

I call Jules as I pull onto the Beltline and she answers right away. "Have you seen her yet?"

Max had called to tell her I was returning and to pump her for any other pertinent information.

"She never got admitted," I tell her in frustration. "Checked herself out against medical advice."

"Jeez, she's a bonehead sometimes," Jules mutters.

"Got that right," I concur. "I'm headed to her place now. Just wanted to give you an update."

Jules makes a sound of surprise that I'd be so considerate. She and I haven't been on the best of terms since she laid into me last week.

"I really hope you work things out with Stephanie," Jules says softly. "I think you both are good for each other, and Lucas...I really want you to be happy."

Damn if I don't feel a little mushy from those sincere words from a woman who happily would have castrated me last week. "Thanks, Jules. That means a lot."

"Let's double date once you get it all worked out, okay?" she teases.

I let myself have a moment to laugh. "Deal."

I promise Jules I'll call her later and let her know Stephanie is okay. I manage to find a parallel spot outside of Steph's apartment building, saving me a good ten minutes not having to walk from the closest parking deck. The elevator seems to take forever, though, and I'm practically pushing out of the doors when they open on her floor.

Her apartment door comes into view and I have a moment of serious self-doubt. I'm dealing with a woman who has the power to break my heart, and she's probably going to do it inadvertently by trying to push me away. I just have to man up and be a bigger bully than she can be to me, and I've got a few things going for me. First, she's injured and concussed, so I figure I can probably talk circles around her. Not to mention, she's in no shape to make me leave, so I'll just manhandle her--gently of course--if she tries.

Finally, I'm going to wear her down with my persistence, and I'm not going to let up until I tear down every last wall she has and stomp it to dust.

I raise my hand and bang my fist on the door, completely ready to change things between us.

Chapter 26

Stephanie

I awaken slowly, and the first thing I notice is that someone's banging on my door. The next thing I notice is that my wrist and head are throbbing almost in tandem.

Groaning, I roll out of the bed, banging my cast on the nightstand. "Shit."

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stumble out of my bedroom and head to the door. I freeze when I hear Lucas's voice come through. "Stephanie...open up, please."

Holy shit. Am I still dreaming?

I stare at the door as I cradle my casted wrist in my other arm. What in the hell is he doing here?

"Stephanie, please," he calls out. "I'm worried. I heard about the accident and I went to the hospital but you weren't there, and I just want to make sure you're okay, then I'll leave you alone, okay?"

That spurs me into action and I reach the door in three quick steps. I pull it open and Lucas is there looking beyond fatigued. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair is a mess, and his clothes are wrinkled. I take this all in as he takes me in, his eyes doing a quick once-over before spending a few moments on my cast before moving to my head. His jaw clenches hard and I can almost hear his teeth grinding.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him, still almost half believing this is a dream.

He doesn't answer my question and instead says, "I've been knocking on your door for almost five minutes. I was about ready to call the police."

"Sorry," I say as I open the door further to invite him in. It's the polite thing to do. "Guess I was sleeping too hard."

"Why in God's name would you check yourself out of the hospital like that?" he asks angrily, and already we are off to a bad start.

My hackles rise and I'm extra grumpy because my head is really throbbing right now. "How about you answering my first question...why are you here?"

Lucas steps past me into my living room and I shut the door, turning to face him. He looks me over again, and says, "You should be in bed. I'll make you some breakfast and coffee."

"Lucas," I say sharply, and he blinks at me in surprise. "What are you doing here? If I remember correctly, with my concussion and all, you have a play-off game tonight in New Jersey."

"Did you honestly think Jules was going to keep this to herself?" he asks me with a slight sarcasm in his voice that I'd normally welcome, but not now. I have a massive headache and it's hard to wipe my butt with my nondominant hand. Let's just say I'm grumpy.

Still, I admit, "No. I figured she'd call Max and word would get back to you."

"And did you honestly think that you could have a near-death experience," he says quietly as he takes a step closer to me, "and get seriously injured, that I wouldn't come to see how you were doing?"

"The baby's fine," I mutter as my hand rubs my stomach. Lucas's eyes drop there briefly before coming back up to meet mine. "I'm sure Jules passed that on too."

"I'm not here for the baby," Lucas says in a low voice. "I'm here to make sure you're okay."

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to take my mind off the fact I'm getting ready to burst into tears, and I'm not

sure it has anything to do with hormones. The fact that Lucas is checking on me when I've pretty much resigned myself that he didn't give a shit at all has me feeling all kinds of stuff that's extremely uncomfortable right now.

"Why?" I ask, and that's really all I can say or I might start blubbering like a baby, and I don't like to cry. My parents hated it when I was growing up so I learned how to contain my feelings, but fuck if they're not threatening to break free right now.

Okay, yes...that must be hormones.

Rather than answer me, Lucas spins away from me, scrubbing his hands through his hair before grabbing the top of his head while he stares at my kitchen. I remain silent because the ball is in his court.

When he turns back around, his expression is guarded. His words come out in a forced manner that I know means it's difficult for him to say them. "The thought of you dying was unbearable to me."

"What?" I whisper, my heart starting to flutter madly, and I wonder if I'm having a stroke or something. I was, after all, hit by a car yesterday.

Lucas drops his hands from his head and shoves them deep into his pocket, as if that move provides a security blanket. It keeps him removed...safe. I know all the body language signs because I do it myself. He doesn't want to be hurt, and that breaks my heart. He's shielding himself the way I did.

"Lucas," I say as I tilt my head at him, and then I flounder. I don't know what to say. I want him to be brave and to tell him to say fuck all my insecurities and take that leap of faith, but his name floats into silence and we just stare at each other.

Finally he coughs to clear his throat and says almost with embarrassment, "Look...I'm sorry I barged in here like this. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."