Chapter 34 Lucian
Lucian
My phone buzzes on the counter, vibrating against the granite like it’s impatient with me. The clinic’s name flashes across the screen. I stare at it for a beat, my jaw tight with annoyance. I could let it go to voicemail. I want to, but if it’s my doctor, I don’t get that luxury.
I swipe to answer. “Sterling.”
“Lucian!” Kelsey’s chipper voice grates through the speaker. Turns out her voice isn’t just grating in the morning, it’s annoying at all hours of the day. “I’m just calling to check in. How are the exercises going? Are you experiencing any pain? Any setbacks with your training?”
Her cheer scrapes across my nerves. I should’ve let it ring. “Everything is fine.”
There’s a pause. The brightness drains out of her voice like someone pulled the plug. “What do you mean, just fine? You know I don’t like ‘just fine’.”
I rub a hand over my face. “It’s nothing. I had a little fall, and my knee’s pissed off. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Lucian,” she snaps, and I can practically see the expression she’s given me hundreds of times, her brows pinched as she purses her lips; it’s the look she gets when she’s disappointed. “That is a big deal. That’s regression. We need to do a Telehealth session immediately so I can assess you.”
I tip my head back, staring at the ceiling like it might offer me patience. “It’s not necessary. I’ll be better in a few days. Falling is part of the process. You tell me that all the time.”
“No,” she says, firmer now. “It’s not fine, Luce. Not until I see you. We’re setting it up tomorrow, that’s non-negotiable.”
My jaw locks as heat crawls up the back of my neck. “Kelsey—”
“And until then?” she cuts me off, her voice syrupy but edged like a scalpel. “No training her. You promised me you’d be smart, and pushing through pain isn’t smart. You could injure yourself further.”
I breathe through my nose, trying to find patience. “Fine. We’ll do the Telehealth visit.”
“Good.” Her voice brightens again. “I’ll send you my availability for tomorrow.”
I grunt and hang up before she can say anything else. Kelsey’s voice still buzzes in my head, too sharp, too pushy, too certain she knows better. She always talks like my injury is the whole story instead of just one chapter.
Soft footsteps move across the hardwood behind me. Hearing the now familiar cadence of Celeste’s steps pulls my shoulders down from around my ears.
“Who was that?”
I look up as she steps further into the kitchen.
Her hair is loose around her shoulders, still damp at the ends from her shower.
She is wearing one of her two-piece sets, the sage green one that looks like it was sewn directly onto her skin.
The fabric hugs her in a way that feels almost unfair.
How am I expected to keep my hands to myself when she wears things like this?
“PT, Kelsey called to check in on me,” I say, my words clipped from exasperation. I do not want to talk about Kelsey or her tone or the way she treats a twinge like a catastrophe.
“Is she giving you hell again?” Celeste asks. The question is casual, but her gaze is not as she searches my gaze for something.
I grunt in response.
She sets her glass down and gives me a small smirk. “She should know by now you don’t rattle easily.”
A grunt slips out of me again, but this time the corner of my mouth lifts. Celeste has a way of cutting through irritation like it is smoke. She always has, even when she doesn’t realize she is doing it.
She steps closer, her fingers brushing mine on the counter.
The touch is light but deliberate, and it settles something in me.
I slide my hands to her waist and lift her onto the counter.
She lets me, but there is a tightness in her shoulders, a small flinch she tries to smooth away. It is quick, but I feel it.
I move between her legs, hands slowly gliding up the outside of her thighs. Her skin is warm from the shower, her scent clean and familiar. I lower my head to her neck, breathing her in. She smells like soap and home.
For a moment, she leans into me. Her breath catches, and her fingers curl in the fabric of my shirt.
Then she slightly tenses, enough to make me lean back. Her hand presses gently to my chest, easing me back with a breath that sounds too fast.
“Come on,” she says, a little breathless. “Let’s go into town, maybe walk around, and see what else Shadow Grove is hiding. I loved walking through Main Street yesterday.” There is something in her voice that feels like a pivot. Not rejection but more like a shift toward safer ground.
I nod and step back, giving her the space she does not ask for but clearly needs. She hops off the counter with a small, careful movement, smoothing her top like she is trying to settle her own nerves.
Before I know it, the trees are sliding past the windows in long green strokes, and the early evening breeze slips through the cracked glass of my SUV.
The air smells like pine and the faint sweetness of Celeste’s shampoo.
She sits curled in the passenger seat with her legs tucked under her, the way she always does when she wants to feel small but safe.
Her gaze stays stuck on the window, but now and then she glances at me.
I rest one hand on the wheel and leave the other open on the console between us for her to hold if she wants to.
She doesn’t take it.
Her phone buzzes against her thigh. She reaches for it, then hesitates, thumb hovering, then sighs and answers. “Hey, Rowe.” She taps the speaker icon on her phone.
I keep my eyes on the road, but my ears prick up.
“I saw your text last night. I’m just checking in,” Rowan’s voice rumbles through the car, warm and steady. “How’s Shadow Grove treating you? You and the big guy settled in okay?”
Celeste lets out a soft chuckle, and the sound eases something tight in my chest. “We’re fine. Things are quiet here. Normal, even. I’ve been working with Lucian and Orion’s girlfriend, Morgan, on self-defense. I’ve been learning some moves.”
There’s pride in her voice, but there’s something else too. A tremor under the words. A need to sound stronger than she feels. I hear it because I’ve felt it.
“Good,” Rowan says firmly. “That’s exactly what I like to hear.
Thank him for me. As you know, Link’s been blowing up our phones, so we know he’s okay.
I already spoke with Shiloh; she made it safely back to her family in Miami, and she’s doing well.
I just left Korbyn at the house, so I know she’s okay.
She has been pacing the house like a caged bird, but cancelling the tour had more blowback than I ever imagined, and we haven’t been able to get her stuff yet. ”
I can hear the way Celeste’s smile softens when she speaks. “Our Little Crow will be okay. She’s stronger than we give her credit for.”
Rowan makes a low, noncommittal sound. “I fuckin’ hope so. I’ll check in later. Please keep your head down, all right?”
“I pinky promise, Rowe.” She taps the screen to end the call and sets the phone in her lap. Her nails drum lightly against the case, a restless rhythm she probably doesn’t realize she’s doing.
We turn onto Main Street just as the sun dips behind the treeline. The storefronts glow warm in the last light of the day, and the street lamps flicker on one by one. Then something else catches my eye.
Strings of tiny lights stretch across the street, crisscrossing from building to building. Warm white. Soft. Almost like stars caught in a net. I’ve driven this road a hundred times and never noticed them. Maybe they only come alive at dusk. Or maybe I never looked up before.
Celeste leans forward in her seat, her breath fogging the glass for a moment. “Oh,” she whispers, almost to herself. “That’s… pretty.”
Pretty isn’t the word I’d use. Not with the way the lights catch in her hair. Not with the way she looks at this town like it might actually hold something good for her.
But I keep that to myself.
I pull into a spot along the curb, the engine ticking as it cools. The lights above us sway gently in the evening breeze, and the whole street feels like it’s exhaling.
* * *
I should’ve said something about her new blonde hair. Kelsey kept fishing for compliments at the beginning of the telehealth visit, with her easy smiles and baited pauses; when I let the moment slide, she would get visibly upset. She turned harder on my form, and the session lost its easy warmth.
“Fix your form,” she scolds. “Lucian, you’re compensating again.”
I bite back a sigh as I fight the urge to roll my eyes for what feels like the hundredth time. “I am not.”
She gives me the slow, impatient blink of a woman who has decided I’m wrong before I even move. “Try the lift again.”
I lift again. Perfectly. The perfect form that should be filmed and archived for future amputees to study.
I know my body. I know this leg. I feel like I know every millimeter of what it can and can’t do. I’ve rebuilt myself from the ground up—literally. I’m not compensating in this movement.
I go through another round of movements with the slow and controlled form she’s demanding.
She still finds something to nitpick. She’d correct the way I blink if she thought it would improve my gait.
I’m convinced she has a secret bingo card labeled Ways to Annoy Lucian, and she’s one square away from a blackout.
My phone alarm goes off, a blessed, holy sound. I silence it as Celeste steps out onto the back porch with me, like she’s been pulled by the sound. She walks over to me and pauses when she sees Kelsey on the screen.
“Hi,” she says, her voice bright. “I’m Celeste.” She leans a little closer to the laptop, as if proximity will make introductions less formal.
Kelsey grins and lifts a hand. “Kelsey. Nice to meet you.”