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Fix him?Didn’t he see that he was perfect? There was nothing about Lucas that needed fixing. “You can’t fix something that’s not broken, Lucas.”
He reached an arm around my waist, bringing me closer to him. “I was prepping for a competition in Hossegor, weeks before Lina’s wedding,” he said, voice like gravel. And just like that, I knew that he was going to open up. He was finally going to talk about it. With me. And I felt the luckiest woman in the world to have him trust me first.
“Hossegor?”
“In France,” he paused. “It’s not a particularly dangerous beach but… there’s this one spot with one of my favorite breaks. Rosie”—he sighed, and it was somehow hopeful, happy—“it’s such a beautiful place. The conditions have to be right, but the wave can hold shape up to three meters, which is almost ten feet, I think. Big,wonderful waves. That’s why I’d always try to visit at least once a year. Even if some days it’s just close-outs you can’t ride.”
He was talking with a kind of passion I recognized. It was the same one I heard in my voice when I talked about writing. About my dream. Or the one I’d seen glimpses of in him when he talked about cooking.
“The problem with that spot, though,” he continued, his tone no longer the same, “is the shore break. If you’re riding a wave that breaks directly onshore, it can propel your body out and onto the sand. With that speed and force, it’s like hitting concrete. You can break your neck. Damage your spinal cord. Or your extremities if you fall in a certain way.” His voice broke, his eyes fluttering closed. “And I knew all of that. I knew the risks. It’s a gnarly place, reserved for pros for a reason. And yet…”
And yet it somehow happened.
My palm landed on his chest, and I could feel his heart pounding under my fingers.
“And yet,” he repeated, still not finishing the statement, his breath going in and out of his lungs in a broken rhythm, “my knee was shattered. I needed surgery. Everything was…” A ghostly expression that broke my heart in a million pieces came over him. I wanted to scream at the injustice of the accident, at all the things he’d lost, and I wanted to somehow return them all to him. “I’ll never be able to get that back. My right leg just… I can’t, Rosie. I’m too old to do it all over again, to recover and climb back to top form. Physical therapy would get me back to fine—not great, not prime shape, justfine.”
I cupped his jaw, grazing my thumb over his cheek.
“One hit. That was all it took. One bad hit and I…” he trailed off, looking disoriented for a few seconds. “I went under, Rosie. Sunk straight to the bottom.”
“You didn’t,” I told him, slipping my fingers in his hair, clasping the back of his neck. “You’re here. Breathing. Whole. Alive.”
Lucas’s features pinched.
“You lost so much that day, and yet, you’re here,” I repeated,allowing myself to say what he needed to hear. “You’re not the same, and you don’t need to be. Because you’re here, with me. Opening your eyes every morning and smiling at the world in a way only you know how to do. You lost something, but you didn’t lose everything, Lucas. You didn’t lose yourself; you just… changed.”
He tilted his head, resting his cheek against my wrist.
And after a heartbeat, both his arms were around me, and he was saying,“Ven aquí.”
I didn’t recognize the Spanish words, but it didn’t matter because I knew what they meant. Come here. Closer.
So I went to him. Because where Lucas was concerned, I’d never hesitate. And so, I curled against his chest, resting my head over his heart.
“You’re right. I’m right here, ángel,” he whispered before brushing his lips on the top of my head. “And I can’t believe I found you.”
He was wrong. He hadn’t found me.
I had.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Lucas
Acramp gripping the whole length of my leg woke me.
I knew the consequences of not going through the advised physical therapy sessions. I hadn’t nurtured my rebuilt joints and atrophied muscles back to health, and this was their way to protest. Seize control. I had only my own stubbornness to blame.
Up until last night, I hadn’t really cared. There hadn’t been a reason to. But then, that bastard had kicked me, coming at me from the back, and I’d been on my knees. Gasping for fucking air and incapable of moving, terrified that he’d go after Rosie next, and I wouldn’t have been able to stop him. It had been that fear that had somehow brought me up. Only to find her wielding her purse, like a warrior princess.
My thigh spasmed again, and I winced. Realizing I was on my side and all the weight of my body fell on my bad leg, I tried to roll onto my back. But something stopped me.Peaches.
I peeked down, finding the source of that intoxicating, delicious scent.
Rosie. Her body was cocooned by mine.
We spooned, the back of her head resting against my throat, herback flush against my chest, our thighs pressed together, and her ass nestled in my lap.
