Page 120 of Texting, Trouble & Touchdowns
He holds up a plate. “I made eggs.”
“Lucian . . .”
“No strings,” he says quickly, lifting a palm like he’s not trying to start anything. “Just breakfast. For recovery. Strictly functional. Not a metaphor.”
I sit—mainly because my legs are still wobbly, and I don’t trust them not to betray me. “Fine. But if you made toast, I’m leaving you for dead.”
He smirks. “No toast. Just eggs, fruit, and a weird yogurt thing I found in the back of the fridge that looked suspiciously yours.”
We eat in silence.
Not the awkward kind . . . the kind that somehow feels like a conversation without words. Until he catches me watching him.
“You can stay, you know. For as long as you want.”
“I know.”
“Just for a while. No pressure. No terms. No contracts.”
I nod.
But I don’t say yes.
Not yet.
After we eat, I grab Sarah’s leash and head out. It’s time for the dog park. Time to think. Time to breathe.
I leave with the taste of strawberries on my tongue, the scent of Lucian’s shirt still clinging to my skin, and the sound of his voice echoing in my head.
I’d stay. If you asked.
I didn’t ask.
But God, I wanted to.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Olivia: I’d like to formally request a refund for your dog.
Lucian: What did she do now?
Olivia: Peed on the welcome mat. And I’m pretty sure it’s shaped like a heart.
Lucian: That’s how she expresses love. You should be honored.
Olivia: It’s urine, Lucian. I’m not framing it.
Lucian: My poor girl is misunderstood by the woman she trusts the most.
Olivia: This is why she ignores me.
Lucian: She will with that attitude.
Olivia: Also she licked my toothbrush.
Lucian: She’s trying to merge identities—bonding moment.
Olivia: I gagged.
