Stuck on Love
Luke
We freeze, staring at each other across the hallway like a couple of deer caught in headlights. We’re both dressed for work. Her, in one of her usual colorful sweaters—this one covered in hearts, naturally. Me, in my jeans, neon-green work shirt, and work boots—not a festive note in sight.
Without a word, she turns and double checks that her door is locked before walking down the hall. I do the same, following her toward the elevator, our footsteps synchronized in the quiet hallway.
I should take the stairs. I always take the stairs. But…
Fuck it.
I reach past her to hit the elevator button. She shifts on her feet, and her jaw works like she’s biting back words. More accurate observations about my asshole status, I assume.
The elevator arrives with a light rattle. We step inside, and I press the lobby button. The doors close with a soft slide and the elevator starts its descent.
Then, somewhere between the second and first floor, it happens.
The elevator lurches to a stop with a mechanical shriek that makes Molly jump. She wobbles on her feet, and without thinking, I dart a hand out to steady her. Wrapping my forearm around her waist, I haul her against me as the metal box shudders dangerously before stilling completely.
Molly’s breath comes out in quick pants, her nails digging into my arm banding her to me.
I inhale deeply, the scent of her shampoo—strawberries and cream and fuuuck.
“You’re okay,” I hear myself say, my voice rough, deep, unrecognizable. The taste of strawberries on my tongue.
The lights flicker once, twice, then settle into the standard emergency lighting. For a moment, neither of us moves.
Then she seems to realize our position and pulls back, her face flushed. “Sorry, I—”
“It’s fine.” I drop my arm, stepping back to give her space before hitting the alarm button. I check my phone. 5:05 AM. No signal, because there’s never been a signal in this damn hunk of metal.
I glance over my shoulder as Molly leans against the back wall, her eyes closed, her hands shaking as she clutches her purse to her chest.
I ball my hands into fists in a lame attempt at curbing the desire to reach for her a second time. “You okay?”
“No—Yes. I mean…yeah,” she says, but her voice is tight. “Just not a fan of small spaces.”
She’s claustrophobic. Because I wasn’t feeling like enough of an ass already after yesterday.
“It’s not that small,” I say, which is stupid because it’s essentially a metal coffin.
“The building’s only five stories. We’re stuck somewhere between one and two, I’d guess.
Danny should notice the emergency call shortly.
I’m sure he’ll be up within the hour.” He lives on the ground floor in an office-apartment combo.
Her eyes snap open. “An hour?”
“Someone else might notice sooner,” I add quickly, watching her sink deeper into the wall with a whimper. I need to distract her before she has a full-blown panic attack. “So, the bakery opens early on Saturdays?”
She blinks at me. “What?”
“I don’t usually see you around this early in the morning. Baker’s hours?”
“Oh, um, yeah. We open at six-thirty, but I like to get the ovens going early. Especially today. Valentine’s Day is…” she trails off, uncertainty flickering across her face.
“Busy,” I supply.
“Something like that.” She slides down to sit on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. “What about you? I didn’t know electricians work weekends.”
She knows what I do for a living? “Emergency call at the oceanside resort. Their whole system went down, they’re running on generators right now.”
“On Valentine’s Day? That’s rough.”
“Better than being here for Danny’s party.”
She lets out a small laugh. “They do get pretty excessive. I did help him set up a chocolate fountain yesterday.”
“Twenty bucks says there’s a karaoke machine.”
“Oh, there’s definitely karaoke. Love song dedication hour starts at nine.”
I sit across from her. She’s still got her arms wrapped around herself, but her breathing seems steadier.
“Why do you hate Valentine’s Day so much?” she asks quietly.
I tense, the question catching me off guard.
I take a deep breath. My minor guilt from last night has me willing to answer her question with the truth rather than a lame excuse.
“A few years ago, I came home early from work to surprise my girlfriend for Valentine’s Day.
Turns out she had a surprise for me, too.
I found her in bed with another man. Been kind of hard to celebrate after that. ”
“I’m sorry,” she says, her eyes shimmering even in the dull lighting.
I run a nervous hand through my hair. “Yeah, well. Ancient history.”
She picks at a thread on her sleeve. “My ex came into the bakery yesterday.”
My ears perk. I remember passing an old couch in the hallway and hearing something about her breakup not too long ago. Small-town, small building. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “He was picking up a cake. To propose to his new girlfriend.”
I raise a brow. “That’s fucked up.”
“We’ve only been broken up for three months.
” Her voice is steady, but there’s hurt underneath.
“He said he needed space to figure things out. Guess he figured them out.” She laughs, but it’s bitter.
“I should’ve known something was wrong before he ended it.
He was always flipping his phone upside down anytime I entered the room.
Telltale signs, and all that.” She waves a hand dismissively.
I think about the crumpled invitation in my trash, about how I took my anger out on her when she was having just as shitty of a day. “I’m sorry…about yesterday. I was—”
“An asshole?”
Her smile is light, easy.
And it’s all mine.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Well, you weren’t totally wrong about the amateur cupid thing. Danny did hand me a stack of invites and said, Spread the love, Molly!” She does a perfect impression of him and I find myself chuckling.
“Better than being one of his targets. He’s been trying to set me up with every single woman in the building since I moved in.”
“Only the women?” she teases.
“Well, there was that one time with the UPS guy…”
She laughs at that, a real laugh that echoes in the small space and spreads a warmth in my chest I’m not at all capable of stopping.
The elevator groans ominously, and she tenses, ending the moment far too soon.
Worried blue eyes meet mine. “You’re an electrician. Can you… I don’t know, do something? Fix it?”
I stare at her for a moment, then at the control panel, and feel like an absolute idiot. “I… Fuck. Yeah, I didn’t even think—”
“You didn’t think to use your electrical expertise to save us?” Her tone is teasing but her breathing is rapid, smile tight.
“I was distracted by—” I cut myself off before I say something stupid like ‘you’ or worse, ‘your shampoo.’ “By…making sure you were okay.”
Her gaze softens and I turn away quickly.
I pull out a multitool from my work bag, flipping it open to find the right tool. “These old elevators usually have an access panel.” I run my hands along the wall beneath the controls until I find the seam. “Hold my phone?” I prompt, handing it to her. “I need the flashlight.”
She scrambles to her feet, taking my phone and angling the light where I’m working. The panel pops open easier than expected, revealing a mess of wiring and components.
“That looks complicated,” she says, peering over my shoulder. She’s close enough that I can feel her warmth, smell those damn strawberries.
I find myself inhaling deeply once again before shaking my head and focusing on the task at hand.
“It’s not bad. See this?” I point to a row of switches.
“These are the safety controls. Sometimes they trip for no reason in old systems. And this—” I indicate a separate button. “—is the manual reset.”
“Have you worked on a lot of elevators?”
“Did a stint working on them when I was an apprentice. Elevators are essentially big electrical boxes that move.” I flip one of the safety switches, checking the connections. “The real question is, why didn’t I think of this twenty minutes ago?”
“Because you were too busy making sure I didn’t have a meltdown,” she says with a hint of guilt.
I turn to her, words—of comfort?—clogging my throat. What the hell is wrong with me? Must be the stale air… “Something like that.” I try the reset button, but nothing happens. “Hold the light a little higher.”
She adjusts, pressing against my side to get the angle right and I freeze. Her free hand rests firmly on my shoulder for balance, and I have to focus very fuckin’ hard on the wiring in front of me.
It’s been a long time since I’ve let a woman touch me.
“What’s that red wire for?” she asks.
“Emergency power.” I trace it with my finger. “It’s…disconnected.” Well, there’s our problem right there.
“Can you fix it?”
“Maybe. But if I’m wrong, we might lose all the lights.”
She sucks in a breath. “Luke.”
The way she says my name sends heat through my frost-bitten heart. Shit. “Yeah?”
“Should we…risk it?”
I glance over at her, the dim lighting highlighting her delicate features in a way that has me steeling my reserve. “I’m right here, Molly.”
She nods, her blonde hair sliding over her shoulder. She presses deeper into me as I strip the wire carefully, then reconnect it to the terminal. “Here we go.”
The lights flicker, then die completely.
Molly gasps, her nails biting into my shoulder. “Luke!”
“Wait for it,” I say calmly, tempted to wrap an arm around her but force myself to wait.
The emergency lighting kicks back on, brighter than before, and the elevator hums to life. It shudders once, twice—
Then nothing.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“At least you tried,” she says, disappointed.
I stare at the panel, running through the standard wiring diagram in my head. Then I spot it—a small breaker switched to the off position.
I flip the switch.
The elevator lurches upward, and Molly lets out a surprised laugh, throwing her arms around my neck. “You did it!”