Page 42 of The Boyfriend Zone

"Here," he said, offering me two tablets and a water bottle. "This should help with the pain. Coach wants you to come out to the bench for the last few minutes if you're up to it. Team morale."

I nodded, accepting the medication gratefully.

After he left, I turned to Lucas. "I should go out there," I said, though the thought of facing everyone—the team, the crowd, the scouts—made my stomach churn.

"I'll walk with you," Lucas offered. "If you want."

I did want that, more than I could admit. Having him beside me would make it bearable somehow. But I shook my head.

"Better not," I said reluctantly. "It's a team thing, and you're—"

"Press," he finished for me. "I understand. I'll check on you later?"

Chapter 15: Lucas

I stood outside Sean's apartment building, the clock on my phone reading 11:47 PM. The night air had a bite to it, winter creeping into late fall, and I stamped my feet to keep warm as I debated whether to text him again.

I couldn't get the image of Sean in that locker room out of my mind—the pain in his eyes, the defeat in his posture, the vulnerability he'd finally let me see. I'd texted twice to check on him, receiving only brief responses that he was "fine, just tired."

Fine. The same lie he'd been telling for weeks.

Before I could overthink it any further, I pulled out my phone and typed:Hey. I know it's late, but I'd really like to see you. How are you feeling, really?

The response came more quickly than I expected:Been better. Not at my apartment. Staying at my grandma's house. It's close to the sports medicine clinic.

Then a second text with an address, followed by:If you still want to come by.

My heart skipped. He was inviting me over, actually letting me in when he was at his most vulnerable. It felt significant in a way I couldn't quite articulate.

On my way. Be there in 10.

The address led me to a small bungalow on a quiet residential street about a mile from campus. Porch lights glowed warmly against the darkness, and carefully tended flower beds lined the short walkway to the front door.

I remembered Sean mentioning his grandmother once—Grandma Rose, whose frozen backyard pond had been his first skating rink. The woman who had taught him to skate before he could properly walk.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked softly, conscious of the late hour.

The door opened to reveal a petite woman with silver hair. She was wearing a cardigan over pajamas, her feet in cozy slippers, but she didn't look like I'd woken her.

"Hello," I said, suddenly nervous. "I'm Lucas. Sean said I could stop by?"

Recognition sparked in her eyes, followed by a warm smile that immediately put me at ease.

"Lucas! Yes, of course. Sean mentioned you might be coming." She stepped back, gesturing me inside. "I'm Rose, Sean's grandmother. Come in, come in. He's in the living room."

I followed her through a short hallway decorated with framed photos—many featuring a younger Sean in various hockey uniforms, from peewee to high school to college—and into a cozy living room. The space was small but comfortable, with worn furniture and crocheted throws adding homey touches.

Sean was reclined on a sofa, his right arm properly immobilized in a sling, a fleece blanket draped over his legs. He looked exhausted, shadows under his eyes, his normally vibrant presence dimmed by pain and medication. But his face brightened slightly when he saw me, and something in my chest unclenched at the sight.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Rose said, patting my shoulder. "There's tea in the kitchen if you'd like some, Lucas. Sean knows where everything is."

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs.—"

"Just Rose, dear," she corrected gently. "Any friend of Sean's is family here."

After she disappeared down the hallway, I moved to the sofa, my heart clenching at how vulnerable Sean looked without his usual armor of hockey pads or bravado.

"Hey," I said softly, perching on the edge of the cushion beside him. "How are you?"

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