Wheeler (Seattle Sharks 8)

“Heading to meet Eric?” I asked.

He nodded, finishing his banana. “I’m getting into a groove,” he said. “He’s shown me techniques my coach doesn’t even know. I owe you and him everything.”

I smiled. “Sounds like love. You do know he’s married, right?”

“Ha. Ha.” He rolled his eyes. “I did meet Pepper last week. She’s super cool for a nerd.”

“I resent that statement!” Harper arched a brow at him.

“She’s the coolest, actually,” I said, loving my sister-in-law. I’d always wanted a sister, and she and Ivy had filled those roles quickly and effortlessly.

“You two want a banana?” Sawyer asked, motioning over his shoulder. “I’m going to grab another one before I head out.”

“Kill me now,” Harper said, but there was nothing but teasing in her voice.

“No, thanks,” I said, glancing down at my cell as Sawyer practically skipped to the kitchen.

Lukas hadn’t texted me back, yet.

In fact, he hadn’t texted me back after I’d told him I got home safe last night…and that I missed him.

The text had been a moment of buzzed desperation and vulnerability and truth. I had missed him. I hated the fact that this was my last official day in his professional life. Living in his world, doing the job I was born to do…it had unleashed something inside me. Hope. And confidence. I definitely hadn’t enjoyed going over the applications for his new PA. Funny how I’d selected all the men.

“You going over to Lukas’s?” Harper asked, nudging me when I had stared at my cell for a few moments too long.

“I don’t know.”

“Isn’t it your last day?”

“It is.” Something churned in my stomach—a cold dread I’d kept at bay the last six weeks.

“I’m sure he’ll have something planned for you,” Harper said. “Like color coding his closet or shining all his shoes,” she teased.

“That was my first week on the job,” I said, and we laughed. “Summer flew by,” I said, reeling it in.

“It did.”

We sat in silence for a while longer, until it was time for both of us to do regular things, like eat and shower and prepare for the day.

After I’d showered, had second breakfast, and cleaned my entire room—including my closet—and I still hadn’t heard from Lukas, I started to worry.

He was normally so quick to respond to my texts. Hell, there were nights before we’d slept together that we texted for hours.

It was our thing.

I chewed on my lip, sitting on my now immaculate bed. Had he gone out last night? It’d been two weeks since Eric had punched Lukas before, thankfully, welcoming him to the family. Had they gone out for some bro-bonding? Was he sleeping off his own hangover? I know the guys had mentioned a night at Club Thirty-Five soon, I had just assumed Lukas would invite me as well.

Maybe he didn’t because he knew I’d been out last night with my friends.

Maybe he had gone out and then something happened to him.

Visions of a car wreck flashed in my head, paranoia rushing in like the bitch it was.

Great, now I’d turned into my mother.

The odds of anything actually happening to him were wicked low, but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head now that it’d cropped up there.

I could swing by.

The thought came easily enough. It wouldn’t make me a clingy-girlfriend-type…no. I was his personal assistant. There were tasks to wrap up, and I still needed to organize his digital planner so he didn’t botch all my hard work after I went back to school.

I nodded to myself, slipped on my shoes, and hurried out the door.

The closer I got to his house, the more my stomach twisted.

The uncertainty hit me like a defenseman, and I absolutely hated it.

Not only was this my job, he was my…my…

Boyfriend?

No, that didn’t sound right. We weren’t dating, were we? Not with the way he told me I was the only one he wanted, the one he wanted to share a life with, but…he continuously told me he didn’t want to hold me back.

So, not my boyfriend?

He’d risked the wrath of my brother though.

And sure, our Netflix and chill nights had been just as amazing as our many shared meals together. We’d laughed and toured his home town, and we’d had more than our fair share of steamy nights. But…boyfriend?

Boss.

Ugh.

What a tangled mess.

I shoved my thoughts down as I walked up his long drive, stopping in front of his massive door. I clenched my fingers together to stop the trembling. What was it about the man that set me so on edge? How did he have the ability to make feel totally confident and insanely unsure at the same time? Why did he have to be so incredible and so infuriating?

Erring on the side of confidence, I slipped my key into the lock and let myself in.

“Faith?” his voice sounded from where he rested on the couch, a book draped over his chest. “What are you doing here?”

I pocketed his house keys, the door shutting behind me. There was something about the way he looked at me, unmoving from that couch, that made chills race down my spine. Maybe it was the purple beneath his eyes, like he hadn’t slept well, either. Or it could be the fact that I’d been standing there for over a minute now, eyes on him, and he hadn’t come to greet me—which for him usually meant a breath-stealing kiss.

Okay, then. Fair enough.

“I have work to do,” I said, shrugging like I wasn’t dying on the inside because he hadn’t responded to my texts or to me showing up. It wasn’t like him, and pairing that with the random times he went cold on me since we’d been back from Sweden…God, was he trying to distance himself now that I was going back to college? I hurried past the couch, turning down the hall, and seeking refuge in his office.

I did have work to do.

So, I would bury myself in it.

Hide behind it.

It was so much easier than admitting the truth.

The idea of Lukas pushing me away hurt more than I ever imagined.

I’d barely entered the password on his desktop before he was leaning against the entryway.

“Even on your last day, you work harder than I do on a normal one.”

I spared him a glance, hating that my body heated at the sight of him. All long and lean and chiseled, his black pajama pants hugging his waist, the white T-shirt tight over his chest. And an old, leather-bound book in his hand, draped at his side.

Fucking Nordic god of drive Faith crazy.

“Someone has to stay on top of things,” I said, returning my eyes to the screen. If he wanted to pretend like al

l was normal and not tell me what was going on with him, then fine.

“Oh,” he said, stepping further into the room. “I quite like it when you’re on top.”

The normal tease directly contrasted his demeanor—the way he kept his distance, how he looked plagued by something he refused to talk about.

My fingers paused on the keyboard, and I sighed.

“You can’t say things like that if you’re content to shove me away.”

There. I said it. No going back now.

He furrowed his brow, but he didn’t look at all shocked by my statement.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

I arched a brow at him. “You know what I mean.”

He shook his head, ripping his gaze from mine and focusing on the shelves near him. Slowly, with a calculative grace, he returned the book he’d been holding to its proper spot, his hand lingering on the spine, his back to me.

Something tight wrenched in the center of my chest.

I could feel it coming…the inevitable we need to talk.

My stomach dropped despite sitting down, my breath quickening. No, this wasn’t supposed to hurt this much—

“I’m not pushing you away,” he finally said, his voice soft as he turned around to face me. “I’m…” he shrugged, clamping his lips shut.

I eyed him, swallowing down the hurt fueled by fear.

“You’re off,” I said, not moving from my seat despite wanting to rush to him. To feel his body against mine. To communicate in the one way I knew where we had no miscommunication—skin to skin.

“I know.”

“Talk to me,” I said, a plea in my tone. “I’ll understand. Whatever it is. You know I will.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he quickly smoothed his features. “It has nothing to do with you.” His voice was low, an underlying current of anger there, but not at me, that much I knew…but it didn’t stop the adrenaline in my veins.

I stood, closing the distance between us in a few strides.

“Nothing to do with me?” I hissed. “If it’s bothering you? If it’s causing this…” I grazed my thumb over the purple under his eyes. “Then it has to do with me.”

He captured my wrist before I could draw my hand back and planted a kiss there.