Chapter 7
Magnolia
The early morning light breaks through the single pane window in Lukas’s bedroom.
I’ve already been awake for an hour; my body’s fighting the time change from California to Iowa.
I’ve laid still, watching the steady rise and fall of Lukas’s chest while he sleeps.
The dark circles under his eyes make him look less like the cocky, happy boy I love, and more like the broken man Grayson described when he called me to tell me the news.
My gaze falls to the bandage over his shoulder, the tape and strap from the sling covering up his newest tattoo.
I haven’t been able to see it in person yet, and even though I want him to sleep, my arm reaches out on instinct, my fingertip lightly tracing the border of the Black Water Crows logo that’s now permanently inked on his bicep.
The day he turned eighteen, Lukas went to the tattoo shop with his brother, Theo, to get his first tattoo.
A swirl of geometric shapes starts by his shoulder; the black ink growing more complex and intricate as it moves down his arm and over his back.
He has a half-sleeve for now, with plans to make it a full sleeve some day.
The team logo is the only non-geometric one, making it the focal point of his entire arm.
My throat burns, knowing that if he’s right, if he doesn’t get to return, he will have to look at his professional team’s logo in the mirror every day and wonder what could have been.
Lukas stirs, and I halt my tracing for a second before I see one of his eyes pop open.
He peeks over at me before adjusting himself, and I move so he can pull his good arm out from under me.
“How are you feeling?” I whisper. Such an arbitrary question in theory.
Lukas seems to ponder that for a minute as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. Then he turns to face me, his arm falling to rest on my thigh and pull me closer to him. “Better now that you’re here.”
“I could have been here sooner if you had called me.”
He purses his chapped lips together at that, rubbing them over one another as he thinks.
“I know. I wanted to, believe me, but I didn’t want you to be distracted during a show.
I didn’t want you to refuse to perform so you could sit in a hospital waiting room for hours.
And as much as I want you here with me, like you are right now, I didn’t think you could get time away. ”
“So, you just weren’t going to tell me?”
“I don’t know. I honestly didn't really think.” He turns to me, and I notice that his normally sparkling blue eyes are muted gray. “I’m sorry, baby. The bottom line is, it wasn’t right, no matter my reason.” His hand squeezes my thigh. “How did you know, anyways?”
“Grayson called me.” And thank goodness that Grayson is the sensible one of the Hart siblings.
I won’t tell Lukas that I was standing in the dressing room, hairspraying the crap out of my hair so it would hold for that night’s performance, when I saw a voicemail pop up on my phone from the Hart’s landline.
I had expected terrible news, naturally, as I don’t talk to his family regularly, but when I heard Grayson’s baritone voice over the line telling me that Lukas tore something in his shoulder, had surgery, and was already back home in Copper Ridge wasn’t anything I could have predicted.
“I should’ve been at the hospital with you, Lukas.”
He nods, a slow confirmation that he knows he messed up. “I know. I didn’t handle it right.” He exhales roughly, raising his hand to rake through the sides of his already disheveled hair. “I’ve been an ass to my mom, too.”
“I imagine she’s been beside herself trying to help.”
He nods again, and I push up to sit at the edge of the bed with my back to Lukas as I face out the window. His palm comes up to rub slow, soothing lines up and down my back.
“How was your performance last night?”
I twist to look at him over my shoulder.
My performance after Grayson called me was awful.
I had tears in my eyes the entire time. My pirouettes were a half second off because all I could think about was packing my bags and heading to the airport to make the next flight back home.
I’ll receive backlash for pulling out of Sunday’s performance and having my understudy take over, but to be here with Lukas?
It was worth it. “It was fine. It wasn’t last night, though. ”
His brows furrow together, and he reaches over to grab his phone from the nightstand, tapping the screen to see that it’s dead. “What day is it?”
“Monday.”
“Christ.” He lets out an aggravated exhale with his eyes fixated on the ceiling. “I’ve been lying in this bed for days.”
“Yeah, and you sure smell like it, too.”
I stand before he can playfully swat at me, stepping back from the bed.
I raise my arms above my head, stretching my hips right and left before reaching for him.
“Come on, my wounded soldier. Let’s get you out of those clothes and into the shower.
Then we’re going to go downstairs, you’re going to eat something, and apologize to your mom for being a jerk.
Then we’ll go for a walk around the farm so you can get some actual sunshine. ”
“Since when do you think you’re in charge?” he teases.
I tuck my palm under his good arm and help him sit up. He sways for a minute, eyes squeezing together. “Nevermind. A diet of pain pills and anger isn’t as cracked out as they make it seem.”
“No crap.” Nerves swirl in my stomach at how many he’s been taking.
His mom was still up when I arrived late last night, her own anxiety about what’s happened to her son keeping her awake.
Lukas is the quintessential middle child, the independent yet rebellious one, the one that will give us all gray hair at a young age.
But he is also her youngest boy, and even though he won’t let anyone see it but me, he’s the most sensitive of all the Hart siblings.
“Maybe we can switch to something less strong? I know you need something to manage the pain, but I don’t like the idea of you drugging yourself…
” I grip the hem of my sweater, stretching the fabric before pulling it overhead. “Makes me nervous.”
His broad palm reaches out to squeeze the back of my thigh, and with more force than expected, he tugs me to him with a yelp. “You fly all this way just so you could tell me what to do, baby?”
I lean down so my lips are barely hovering over his. “If that’s what it takes for you to get your head out of your ass, then yes.” I plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Now, get your butt up, Hart. It’s time to get you cleaned.”
He groans, and his grip tightens on my leg as I try to turn. “I don’t think I have the energy, nurse, can you give me a sponge bath?” When I twist back to look at him, I flip him my middle finger, and he laughs, slowly pushing off from the bed to stand. “I’m taking your silence as a maybe.”