Stealing Home

The other reason I’d agreed was because I knew I would miss him. It was too early on in a relationship to be missing someone, but that didn’t change the fact that I wanted to be around him on our days off. It wasn’t just the intimacy I wanted—it was his presence. The energy he exuded, his easy smiles, and the way one look from him could make me feel things in every part of my body.

Managing to maneuver the tank into a parking space in the garage this morning after slogging it back to my place last night, I made my way up to his apartment. A doorman buzzing residents or visitors in was about as fancy as the building got. Never would anyone look at it and think one of the top players in the game of baseball lived here. I loved that he did though. I loved that he drove a decade-old vehicle and lived in the kind of place that appealed to the middle-class of the city. I loved that for Luke, playing was about the sport—not the money and fame that came with it.

When the song changed to one that made me cringe, I heard Luke’s moan of protest from the other side of the door. Good to know neither of us would force the other to listen to this atrocity.

I’d stalled long enough, so I knocked on the door. Luke had mentioned leaving around nine, and it was only a few minutes to. Plus, I had to get him situated in his mode of transportation for the day.

When the door flew open, the first thing the girl’s eyes drifted to was the wheelchair in front of me. Then she busted up.

“Please say that’s for Luke,” she greeted, stepping aside and waving me in.

“It’s for Luke.”

“And all is right in the universe again.” She was the female version of Luke—striking eyes, long caramel-colored hair, and an easy smile. She had a small gold necklace on with her name hanging from it. For a girl who’d just had her heart broken, she looked like it was already healed. To be young again.

“Where is the gimp?”

“Probably hiding in his closet with a pillow wrapped around his head.” She closed the door behind me and padded into the living room.

It looked like a sorority house too. Nail polish bottles were scattered over the end tables, pillows were strewn around like a pillow fight had just gone down, and articles of clothing were hanging and scattered across every stationary surface, including the television.

“Cameron!” she shouted down a hall. “Turn it down! Luke’s trainer is here!” She waited until the volume dialed down. “Sorry, I’m Alex, and you must be Allie.” Her eyes dropped to the wheelchair.

Luke and I had agreed via a quick text this morning to keep our relationship quiet with the girls. To them, I was an athletic trainer for his team and nothing more. That was it. Not because I was worried about them blasting it out there for everyone to know, but because bringing a person into their family circle was a big deal. I didn’t want Luke to introduce me to his sisters as the woman he was seeing until I’d caught up to what was going on between us. Until I could qualify what it was and determine if there was a few-weeks expiration date.

“Nice to meet you, Alex. All set for shopping?”

She lifted a foot, which she already had her sneaker tied onto. “I’ve got my shopping shoes on and everything. Maximum speed. Minimum fatigue.”

I was reconsidering my own shoe choice—I saw just how serious this girl was about her shopping—when I felt it. His presence. His stare. His nearness. I wasn’t sure what exactly it was that I felt, but I knew he was close and he was watching me.

I tried to paint the most unaffected of looks on my face before glancing up. That plan lasted a whole half second before my eyes connected with his.

He was standing in the middle of the hall, watching me like no one was around . . . like three of his sisters. When his eyes dropped from mine to examine what I was wearing, his arm jetted out, his hand molding against the wall like he was bracing himself.

His eyes had some sort of direct connection to every nerve ending in my possession. They all fired to life at the same time, making it both impossible to stay frozen in place and to move.

“Hey.” He gave me a smile that wasn’t exactly “little sister appropriate” as he started down the hall toward me.

But when I detected his subtle limp, the trainer in me resurfaced. “What are you doing on your feet?”

Behind me, Alex popped off a, “Busted.”

“Walking,” Luke answered with an easy shrug. “I’ve been doing it for twenty-four years now. Mastered it twenty-three years ago. Been doing it ever since.”

“And if you want to keep walking, I’d suggest you get in this thing and keep your leg elevated for the rest of the day like you promised me.” Rolling the wheelchair toward him, I tried out a glare on him. It was a weak attempt, made weaker still when his eyes continued to roam me. When they reached the hem of my summer dress, the crease in his forehead told me exactly what he was imagining.

“Did you two already meet?” Luke cleared his throat.

“Yep, and she’s my new favorite person since she’s going to make you ride in this all day. Your throne awaits, Grandpa.”

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