Chapter Eighteen
Dylan
Lucy texted me twenty minutes ago saying she was on her way, but her car still hasn’t pulled into the lot. Joss found someone to cover her catering shift tonight.
I check my phone again. Five minutes late becomes ten. Ten becomes twenty. That’s not like her.
“She okay?” Darnell asks, glancing toward the entrance.
“I don’t know,” I reply. A dull unease settles low in my stomach. Lucy’s usually early. Or right on time. Never this late.
Darnell shifts his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, man… I owe you an apology.”
That gets my attention. I look up. “For what?”
He exhales slowly. “I’m really sorry Lucy overheard that conversation about her.”
“What conversation?”
“When she stayed over,” he admits.
Something cold slides through my veins. I look down at my phone again. Twenty-one minutes now. “Overheard what, exactly?”
Darnell grimaces. “We were talking about what happens if the pro thing works out and if you’ll have time for a girlfriend. I didn’t realize she heard us until one of the girls mentioned the bathroom door shutting.”
My jaw locks, teeth pressing together. Since last night, Lucy has been quieter in every conversation since.
“Why would you even talk about that?” I ask.
He shrugs, not defensive, just honest. “It came up. We didn’t think she was within earshot.”
“So, she was just… standing there the whole time?”
“No,” he says quickly. “I’m not saying she was listening in on purpose. But you’ve gotta admit that you’ve been different lately.”
I let out a breath through my nose. “Different how?”
“You don’t hang around like you used to. You’re always checking your phone. Waiting for her to text. You disappear early. You skip stuff.”
I open my mouth to argue, then stop. Because he’s not wrong.
This has nothing to do with Lucy pulling me away from the team. This has to do with how much I love her. I’ve focused on the team for four years straight. The first time I make room for something outside football, some of the guys act like I’ve betrayed them.
“I’m happy,” I say finally. The word feels solid. Real. “I love Lucy. Things are good. I don’t get why it’s a big deal.”
“I know,” Darnell says gently. “And I’m glad for you. I really am. But don’t push everyone else away because you think Lucy can’t handle being around us.”
My shoulders tense. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
The truth is, Lucy can handle herself. I’m the one who doesn’t want her around Greg and Meredith.
“Lucy may not like the same things we do,” Darnell continues. “That doesn’t mean she’s fragile.”
I stare out across the parking lot, headlights flashing as cars pull in and out. “She just doesn’t like the same things. Parties. Drinking. Noise.”
“And that’s fine,” he says. “But don’t decide for her what she can handle.”
I nod slowly. “I need to let her make that call.”
“She’s stronger than you think,” he says.
Darnell heads off toward Marcus and Derek, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I replay the past week in my head. Lucy’s quiet pauses, the way she watches me like she’s bracing for something to fall apart. If she heard that conversation… yeah. That would do it.
I pull my phone out again, thumb hovering over her name.
Then Greg stops beside me.
He’s tossing a football between his hands like he owns the space. “Sharpe, heard you’re bailing.”
“I’m waiting for Lucy.”
“Library Girl?” His grin widens. “Maybe she decided books are more fun than us.”
“Her name is Lucy.”
Meredith appears beside him. “Relax. We all know Dylan’s devoted.” She glances toward the entrance. “Although if you ever want a night off—”
“I don’t.”
Greg’s jaw tightens, but Meredith only shrugs.
“You two finished?” I ask.
Greg raises his hands in mock surrender. “Easy, man. Just messing around.”
I don’t respond. Instead, I turn and walk toward the far edge of the lot, where the noise fades and the neon lights from the arena don’t feel quite as oppressive. I check my phone again.
Nothing.
Twenty-five minutes now.
Lucy’s never late like this. Not without a message. Not without a reason. Unease settles under my ribs, the kind that doesn’t let me stand still.
Then, I see her car.
Relief hits first—quick and blinding—then concern follows. She’s wearing the green sweatshirt I gave her, sleeves pulled over her hands, her smile hesitant instead of bright.
I cross the distance between us in a few strides and pull her into my arms. “Hey,” I exhale. “You okay? You’re late.”
She nods against my shoulder, but there’s a flicker in her eyes that doesn’t quite match her words. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just got caught up at home.”
I don’t push, but I don’t miss the way her voice softens around the edges. Something’s weighing on her. I have a strong feeling it has everything to do with what she overheard the other night.
I search her face. “And nothing else happened?”
“No,” she says quietly. “Dad was just running late and I didn’t want to leave Mom alone until he got home.”
I believe she’s physically fine. I don’t believe nothing is wrong.
Darnell claps his hands loudly, stepping into the center of the group like an overly enthusiastic camp counselor. The laser tag arena glows behind him, neon lights buzzing and flickering across the pavement.
“Alright, listen up!” he shouts, holding up a bright vest with a blinking sensor. “Rules are simple. No hitting. No shoving. No whining when you get tagged.”
A few guys laugh. Someone tosses an empty soda cup in his direction. Darnell dodges it easily and grins.
“We’re splitting into two teams—Red and Blue. Each team gets a base. Tag as many opponents as you can before time runs out. Highest score wins.”
Lucy leans toward me. “I thought this was just… lasers.”
I smile. “They like to complicate things.”
She grimaces slightly. She’s not built for this kind of chaos, and I know it. Libraries and quiet cafés suit her better than running around with a plastic gun. But she came anyway.
“Alright,” Darnell continues, holding up two handfuls of wristbands. “When I call your name, grab a band.”
He starts tossing them out. Marcus. Derek. Meredith. Blue bands across the board. Meredith fastens hers with a smirk, her gaze flicking toward Lucy like she’s already plotting something.
“Dylan,” Darnell calls.
I catch the red band and slide it onto my wrist, already bracing myself. I glance at Lucy, hoping—
“Lucy.”
Blue.
Of course.
I shoot Darnell a look, but he just grins, unapologetic. He probably thinks he’s doing us a favor by forcing Lucy into the mix, giving her a chance to “bond.” I’d be fine with that if Meredith weren’t on her team.
Lucy meets my eyes, one corner of her mouth lifting. “Opposite sides.”
“I’ll go easy on you,” I say, bending to kiss her forehead.
She laughs softly, nerves still tucked behind her smile. “I’ll try not to take you out first.”
I grin. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
The teams finish grabbing their wristbands, and Darnell claps his hands again. “Alright! Ten minutes to strategize. After that, we head inside. No mercy.”
The crowd splits into two loose clusters. I drift toward the Red team. Marcus’s female friend stares boredly at her nails. Darnell looks far too pleased with himself. Greg stands off to the side, jaw set, eyes fixed on something across the lot.
I follow his gaze.
Lucy stands with the Blue team, Meredith angled close to her, leaning in like she’s sharing a secret. Meredith’s smile is all sugar and pointy edges, and it immediately puts me on alert.
“You worried about Library Girl?” Greg mutters, mockery lacing every word.
I don’t look at him. “Let’s just play.”
But even as we finish talking strategy, my attention keeps drifting back to Lucy. Being on opposite teams shouldn’t feel this unnerving, but it does. Especially with Meredith orbiting her like a vulture.
The buzzer sounds, and the arena doors slide open. Inside, the lights dim to a pulsing neon glow, transforming the space into a maze of tunnels, barricades, and glowing obstacles. The second we step in, everyone scatters.
Everyone except me.
My focus finds Lucy instantly.
She moves carefully, laser gun held a little stiff in her hands, red hair glowing under the black light.
I take cover behind a low wall, firing off a few distracted shots at a passing blue vest. I don’t even check if I land the hit.
Fog curls around the low barriers while electronic music pounds through hidden speakers. Every successful hit triggers a burst of light and a sharp vibration from the vests.
Lucy’s crouched behind a barrel now, scanning the arena like she’s mapping it out in her head. Meredith stands a few yards away, whispering to another teammate. I don’t like it. Not one bit.
I shift positions, moving closer to the center. Marcus pops into my line of sight and I tag him, but my attention snaps right back to Lucy as she makes a break for one of the tunnels.
That’s when I see Greg.
He’s posted near the tunnel entrance, waiting.
I don’t hesitate. I cut across the arena, weaving between barriers as Greg lifts his gun and fires.
“Where you headed, Library Girl?” he calls out, the sound carrying through the maze.
Lucy slows, but she doesn’t laugh this time. She lifts her gun and aims directly at his vest.
“My name is Lucy.”
Greg snorts. “Relax. I’m just talking.”
Her shot lands. His vest flashes, temporarily disabling his weapon.
“Then talk to someone else,” she says.
I step out from behind cover, and Greg looks toward me, clearly expecting backup or a confrontation. I only shrug. “She answered you.”
He snorts and backs off, disappearing into the glow.
I turn to Lucy. Her cheeks are flushed. She exhales slowly, then looks up at me.
“You okay?”
“I’m okay,” she says.
“Nice shot.”
She lifts her gun, eyes sharpening. “Go back to your team, Sharpe. I’ve got this.”
I raise my hands. “Yes, ma’am.”
I laugh as I retreat, but instinct keeps her in my peripheral vision. I’m still learning that trusting her means knowing when to step away
A few minutes later, Lucy’s laugh carries through the maze after she tags someone near the Blue base.
I start to look for her, then stop myself.
She doesn’t need me to track her every step.
She needs me to believe her when she says she has this.
And I do.