Chapter Ten
Dylan
I’ve been holding Lucy’s hand for the past fifteen minutes, my thumb moving absently over her knuckles as we sit in the crowded ER waiting room.
The place hums with restless energy—someone clutching their head in pain, a little girl crying into her mother’s shoulder, a woman being rushed through swinging doors, her face drained of color.
But Lucy doesn’t seem to notice any of it.
Her gaze is locked on the double doors across the room, her body rigid beside me. I can feel it in the tightness of her grip, the rapid pulse beating beneath my fingers. Her breathing grows shallower, and I recognize the signs of her disappearing into every possible outcome.
Books. That’s the best way to reach her.
“What part of Jane Eyre do you think about when you’re scared?” I ask.
Lucy shakes her head slowly. “The part where she reminds herself she isn’t powerless just because she’s afraid.”
“That’s a good one.”
She shifts closer, her shoulder brushing mine.
“Okay,” I say. “Another book. One you think gets love completely wrong?”
Her eyebrows lift. “Love in the Time of Cholera. Some people wouldn’t call it romantic, but I think it treats love like a place only the courageous are strong enough to enter.”
“And you don’t believe that’s true?”
Lucy leans back against the plastic chair and releases a long breath. “I think love takes courage,” she says quietly. “It’s easier to protect yourself. To build walls and keep people far enough away that they can’t change you.”
“And letting someone in?”
“Means accepting they might.”
I nod slowly. “Have you ever read The Thorn Birds?”
“You?” The surprise in her voice almost makes the question sound accusatory.
“No,” I admit. “But I’m guessing you have.”
“One of my favorites. You should read it. It’s about knowing love may cost more than you can afford and choosing it anyway.”
“Is that courage or self-destruction?”
Lucy shifts closer, becoming more animated as she explains. “Sometimes, I’m not sure there’s a clean line between them in fiction.”
“I think I need to give The Thorn Birds a read.”
“I have three copies,” she says softly. “I’ll give you one.”
“You really love books,” I say.
She tilts her head. “That’s not exactly a secret.”
Her answer is so distinctly Lucy that I can’t help wondering how many people have mistaken her quietness for a lack of depth.
I lower my voice. “I don’t mean for escape. You read to understand. To make sense of things.”
“Yeah,” she whispers.
“Oh, good,” a familiar voice interrupts.
We both look up.
“Aunt Joss?” Lucy gasps, jumping to her feet and wrapping her aunt in a hug. I stand slowly as Joss turns to me, extending her hand as though we are meeting under completely normal circumstances.
“Good to see you, hunky football player.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Good to see you too, Joss.”
“Any news yet?” she asks Lucy.
Lucy shakes her head. “Not yet.”
“Give me a minute,” Joss says confidently. “I’ll find out.”
She marches to the desk, gives Violet’s full name, and asks them to contact Thad.
“I’m sorry,” Lucy mutters, embarrassment creeping into her voice. “She has no filter.”
I brush a loose curl away from her face. “I don’t mind.”
She groans. “Of course you don’t.”
“Are you ever going to explain the Lucky Bennetts?” I ask.
She smiles faintly. “It’s a long story.”
“You and Aunt Joss seem to collect those.”
A quiet second passes between us. The waiting room drifts into the background along with all of the noise as she looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time all over again.
“Luce!” Joss calls, waving us over as a nurse appears and tells us family can come back. “You and Mr. Football coming?”
Lucy stops short.
“You’re about to meet my parents,” she says quietly. “Right now.”
“I think I am.”
“In a hospital.”
“Yes.”
“I…” Lucy trails off, apprehension clouding her expression.
I reach for her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “It’s going to be okay.”
Her palm is damp against mine as we follow Aunt Joss and a nurse down the narrow hallway. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, flickering just enough to make my stomach knot. Every step toward Violet’s room makes Lucy’s grip tighten.
Just before the door, she stops and draws in a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling. I don’t let go.
She nods once, then pushes the door open, pulling me in with her.
The first thing I notice is her dad.
He’s seated beside the hospital bed, his posture stiff, hands clasped together like he’s holding himself upright through sheer force of will. His hair is the same vivid red as Lucy’s, though threaded with gray, and when he looks up, I see exhaustion etched into his features.
“Dad?” Lucy says softly.
He stands immediately. “Lu-Lu Bear,” he says, his voice gentle despite the tension. Then his eyes flick to me. “You have a friend.”
Lucy’s grip on my hand loosens just a little. “Uh—Dad, this is Dylan. Dylan, this is my dad. Thad Bennett.”
I start to offer my hand, then stop when I realize how tightly Mr. Bennett is holding himself together. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
Before I can say anything else, a voice from the bed cuts in.
“Dylan?”
I turn.
Lucy’s mom is curled slightly on her side, pale but awake, her eyes alert despite an IV taped to her arm.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say automatically.
She lets out a weak laugh. “I’m far too young to be ma’am. Call me Violet.”
“Hi, Violet,” I say as Lucy moves quickly to her side.
“Are you okay?” Lucy asks, sitting on the edge of the bed, her voice rough. “What’s happening?”
“The scan showed inflammation,” her dad says. “They think it might be an intestinal infection, but they’re waiting on bloodwork before they know more.”
Lucy’s breath catches. “H-how bad is that?”
“I’m fine,” Violet says firmly, squeezing Lucy’s hand. “I’m going to be just fine.”
Lucy nods, but she does not release her mother’s hand.
Because this is what caring looks like.
Showing up. Staying.
And somewhere between the beeping machines and Lucy’s shaky breaths, I’m past pretending this is casual.
“Dylan?” Mr. Bennett says after a moment. “Can we talk outside?”
“Sure.”
“I’m sorry we met like this,” he says, softer now. “But I appreciate that you came for Lucy.”
“I care about her. I wasn’t going to let her sit here alone,” I say before I can stop myself.
He studies me, then nods slowly. “Lucy doesn’t let many people close,” he says. “When she does, she means it.”
“I know.”
“She’s spent most of her life believing people will misunderstand her. Don’t give her another reason to believe it.”
“I know that, too,” I say honestly.
His gaze sharpens—not unkind, but protective. “Then you know if you hurt her, you answer to me.”
“I can’t promise I’ll never make a mistake. But I won’t treat her carelessly,” I say, meeting his eyes.
That seems to satisfy him. At least a little.
“I need a favor,” he says after a pause. “We’re going to be here for a while. Lucy’s going to want to stay, but this could take hours. Can you take her home?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately. “Of course.”
His shoulders ease. “Thank you.”
Mr. Bennett starts back toward the room, then stops. His expression is serious, protective in a way that leaves no room for misunderstanding.
“She’s my little girl, Dylan,” he says quietly. “And she means everything to me. You’ll remember that.”
“I will,” I say. I don’t hesitate. I don’t need to.
Back in the room, Mr. Bennett gently explains that Violet needs to rest before the nurse takes her for another test. Joss hugs Violet first, then Mr. Bennett. When she reaches Lucy, she cups her face and presses a kiss to her forehead.
“Call me if you need anything,” Joss says before patting my shoulder and heading out.
“I think you should go home and rest,” Mr. Bennett says. “Dylan offered to drive you.”
“I’d rather stay,” Lucy says, barely holding together. “I won’t sleep anyway.”
“Your mom needs rest,” Mr. Bennett tells her. “I’ll call you the second anything changes.”
Violet smiles weakly. “I’m stable, Lu-Lu Bear. Go home. Get some rest. Bring me blueberry muffins in the morning.”
“I don’t want to go,” Lucy whispers, her gaze darting between her parents.
Both of them look at me—not demanding, just hoping.
“I’ll drive you,” I say gently.
Lucy presses her lips together and nods before the tears can fall. “Okay.”
“I’ll call if anything changes,” Mr. Bennett promises.
Lucy hugs her mom, and Violet holds her for several long seconds before letting go.
My parents were never like this with Gemma and me. Or each other. My family was nothing like Lucy’s.
I wait until she pulls away on her own.
Outside, the silence feels unnatural after hours of hospital noise.
We walk to Darnell’s truck without speaking. I don’t rush the silence. Anything I say would only break a silence she doesn’t need broken.
At the truck, I open the door for her. Instead of getting in, she wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her face into my chest. I hold her without asking her to explain what she needs.
“I didn’t know you had a truck,” she mumbles.
“It’s Darnell’s,” I say.
“He let you drive it?”
“He did.”
“That was nice of him.”
“It was.”
“I’m sorry you came all this way just to take me home.”
“I don’t mind,” I say, because it’s true.
She hesitates. “Is my mom going to be okay?”
I don’t pretend to know. “She’s in the right place. They’ll take care of her.”
She rises onto her toes and presses a tender kiss to my lips. Then, I help her into the truck.
The drive is quiet. When she points to her house, I pull to the curb.
“Can I walk you to the door?” I ask.
Lucy exhales. “Can you stay… until I fall asleep?”
“Yes.”
I wait while she locks the door behind us.
Every warning Mr. Bennett gave me follows us down the hallway, but Lucy’s fingers remain wrapped around mine. Tonight is not about testing boundaries. It’s about making sure she doesn’t have to be alone.
I pause at her bedroom door until she tugs me inside.
Paperbacks fill two mismatched shelves and continue in uneven stacks across the desk and windowsill.
Trailing vines curl around the curtain rod, their leaves casting soft shadows beneath a small amber lamp.
A corkboard above her desk holds handwritten quotations, class schedules, and photographs tucked beneath bright pushpins.
Even the room’s disorder has a system to it, every book and folded blanket arranged according to rules only Lucy understands.
“I’m going to change,” she says as she motions to the hall.
I sit on the edge of the bed and text Darnell that I’ll return the truck after Lucy falls asleep.
When she returns from the bathroom in plaid pajamas, some of the composure she held together at the hospital is gone.
She tugs at my hand. “I like having you here.”
We settle on top of the blankets, a movie playing softly in the background. When the lights go out, she curls against me, resting her head on my chest.
It’s been a long night and I’m exhausted. I’ve always stuck to my schedule obsessively. Normally, I’d already be calculating how many hours remain before training. Tonight, the thought barely registers.
Suddenly, everything inside me shifts.
Lucy believes love takes courage.
But holding her like this and feeling her breathe, something else is true.
Love doesn’t just require courage.
Sometimes, it creates it.
While the house settles quietly around us, I realize I’m no longer afraid of falling for her.
I’m afraid I already have.