I nod. “I’m nervous, Josh.”
He hugs me. “I know. We’ll be here for you, I promise. Let me pop home and say hi to my wife, and we’ll be back in a bit. We can rearrange some furniture to make things more accessible down here for him.”
“But we won’t let Nicki move anything too heavy,” I say, a touch of slyness in my tone.
He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “She told you, didn’t she? I knew she couldn’t keep it quiet.”
I giggle before I toss my arms around his shoulders. “I’m so happy for you. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, little sis.” He squeezes me, and I don’t know how I keep my giant mouth shut, but somehow I refrain from telling him that his baby will have a cousin only a couple months younger.
I’ve only been living with this news a couple minutes. I’m not quite sure I actually believe it just yet.
I give Luke some space to eat in peace while I go to work on the guest room. I can’t do much since I’m guessing I shouldn’t lift too many pounds, but I change the sheets on the bed and grab our pillows from our bed upstairs. I take our comforter, too, and I set shower supplies in the bathroom.
I tackle his office next, pushing the lighter things around to make it easier for him to move. I sit in his desk chair for a minute.
What does this injury mean for his sponsorships? What does it mean for next year? If he knows he’ll just be cut after his contract runs out, will he even be motivated to work hard to get healthy?
These are all good questions. I make a note in my phone to email his agent tomorrow. He might have some of the answers I’m seeking, and since I’m his publicist, the agent seems like a great place to start.
I hear the doorbell along with Pepper’s barking, and I find Josh and Nicki on the other side. Pepper calms when she sees familiar faces, and she scampers back to the family room to lie in front of the television.
Nicki has a bouquet of flowers with a get well soon balloon coming out the top. She brings her gift into the family room where we find Luke watching the game where he was injured. He’s rewinding the play as we join him.
He watches as Hammond plows into him. Rewind. Watch. Rewind. Watch. Over and over and over.
It was a dirty shot. It was cheap. I’ve seen it too many times, and every time my reaction is the same: my stomach turns as I wince.
“The asshole didn’t even draw a flag,” Luke mutters.
Josh grabs the remote out of his hand and I clear away the tray holding an empty soup bowl beside him.
“What the fuck?” Luke protests.
“Don’t do this to yourself, man,” Josh says. He clicks off the television.
Luke blows out a frustrated breath.
“We brought flowers!” Nicki says brightly. Too brightly.
This is awkward as hell and I have no idea what to do.
“Thanks,” Luke mutters.
“I’ll take them!” I say as brightly as Nicki. I walk them over to the end table so we can all see them. “Can I get you anything?” I ask Luke.
He shakes his head, and Josh takes a seat nearby. “You hear from Dr. Charles yet?” Josh asks.
Luke shakes his head.
“Who’s Dr. Charles?” I ask.
“Surgeon,” Luke and Josh say at the same time.
“He’s sort of our unofficial team orthopedic surgeon,” Josh elaborates. “He has a private practice and specializes in sports medicine.”
“He checked out my knee when we got back to the practice facility,” Luke tells Nicki and me. “He has a surgery tonight but said he could get me in tomorrow or Wednesday. His secretary will call to schedule.”
As if on cue, Luke’s phone starts ringing. He holds it up. “And there she is.” He answers the call, and we all listen to his side of the conversation, which mostly consists of grunts and okays. When he ends the call, he says, “I need to report to the hospital tomorrow at noon and I can’t eat anything between now and then.”
Tears pinch behind my eyes. I want this for him—for him to start the healing process, to get healthy again—but I’m terrified of him going under the knife.
I can’t believe how important he’s become to me in the last couple months...and how important he’ll be to our future now that I’ve confirmed my little secret.
“You’ve got this, man,” Josh says.
Luke doesn’t say anything, and my new goal for the night is to get him to unload some of what’s inside and also to distract him from what’s coming tomorrow afternoon.
CHAPTER 3
“How are you really doing?” I ask once we’re alone...even though we’re never truly alone with Michelle nearby.
“It hurts, Elle,” he says softly, shortening my name by a syllable. He doesn’t look at me.
“You need some ibuprofen or something?” I ask, not sure what to offer or what he’s already taken.
He shakes his head. “I’ve taken some. They don’t even touch the pain.”
“What can I get you?”
He shakes his head and keeps his eyes on the blank television screen. “Nothing.”
“I just want to help.”
“I know you do,” he says with a touch of frustration that reminds me how very much this isn’t about me. “I just want to be alone.”
“Even from me?” I ask with too much hope.
“I just want to be alone,” he repeats.
So much for my goal of getting him to talk.
I grant him his wish, disappearing to my office for a while. But I can’t work. I can’t focus. Instead, I think good thoughts and send healing vibes to the man I love.
I give him an hour when I feel the need to check on him. And what I hear in the family room before I even step foot beyond the hallway stops me in my tracks.
It’s laughter. Luke’s. He hasn’t laughed once—he’s barely even cracked a smile in my presence—since he got hurt, and he’s in there laughing right now. The sound of his laughter is a soothing balm to my soul, but then I hear another voice giggling with him.
I’m beyond confused.
I stride into the family room where I find Michelle sitting on the floor with her legs crossed. She’s directly under Luke’s feet, and she’s adjusting his socks for him. That’s my job.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Luke is so damn ticklish,” she says, feigning total innocence. “His sock was twisted so I came over to help.”
I didn’t know Luke had ticklish feet. I didn’t even look at his socks to notice whether they were twisted and I had no idea it would bother him if they were. I wonder what other things Michelle knows about him that I don’t.
What things exist that neither of us are privy to?
“I can help,” I protest.
Michelle stands. “All done.” She claps her hands together and sort of wipes them like the job is done. “I’m going to bed. Luke, man up.” She winks at him to let him know she’s teasing him, and I hate how she’s being so easy with him when I’m struggling to string a sentence together. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
I’m about to make some parting shot about when those test results are coming in, but I refrain. I don’t want to piss Luke off, and especially not when he’s actually smiling again.