Chapter 33 #2
“I came here for meetings, and somehow, even when I’m trying to forget about the mess you made, you’re making another one,” Doug says, his voice low and vibrating with the kind of authority that makes rookies whimper.
“I told you to stay in your rooms. I told you that you were liabilities. And here you are, making a spectacle in the middle of Scottsdale.”
I feel the old, familiar fix-it weight settling on my shoulders. The instinct to sacrifice myself is so ingrained, it’s practically a reflex. I start to step in front of Lucas, to take the punishment, to tell Doug it was all me and that Lucas was just a bystander in my disaster.
But Lucas doesn’t let me move.
He squeezes my shoulder—a firm, grounding weight—and steps a half pace in front of me, forcing Doug to look him in the eye. His boyish, “come what may” grin is nowhere to be found. He’s a statue made of lead.
“I’m done being the setup man, sir,” Lucas says.
“You’re a reliever, Fischer,” Doug snaps. “That is your job, if you have one at all.”
“No,” Lucas counters, his spine a steel rod.
“You said you want a guy who refuses to give the ball back? That’s me.
I’m done letting people walk all over me to get where they’re going, and I’m done pretending Scottie isn’t the most important thing in this organization to me, whether she feels the same or not.
Trade me if you have to. Cut me. I don’t care.
But I’m not letting her disappear because of a PR mess she didn’t start. ”
The lobby goes deathly silent. Even the tourists by the fountain have stopped pretending they’re not watching.
The feeling of finally being the one someone refuses to lose is hitting me so hard I can’t breathe.
Lucas isn’t just standing up to a boss; he’s offering up his lifelong dream as a sacrifice.
For me.
And I’m too choked up to stop him.
Doug looks from Lucas to me, then to the massive cart of coffee. “What is this?”
“One of every flavor,” Lucas says, a flicker of his light returning. “She drinks vibes. I wasn’t going to miss the right one.”
Doug looks around the lobby, noticing my parents for the first time.
“Conference room C. Now.” Doug looks at the barista, who’s hovering nervously. “And bring the cart.”
We swap looks and follow. It feels like we’re marching to our execution, the wheels of the coffee cart squeaking against the carpet in a rhythm that matches my jackrabbit pulse.
The fear that we’ve both just tanked our careers is a pit in my stomach, but with Lucas caring too much to let me take the fall, it’s not as heavy as it could be.
The moment the door to the conference room clicks shut, Doug folds his arms. The air in here is clinical and tight. We all start to speak at once, falling over ourselves to explain, but Doug holds up a hand.
He isn’t looking at us. He’s looking at my parents.
“This is our fault,” my dad tells Doug. His voice is gravelly, stripped of its usual lightness.
Doug’s head cocks to the side. “How so?”
“We pushed them to keep dating. Scottie’s a Jake-whisperer, and we saw how much better he was doing thanks to her.
She was ready for things to end a while ago, but I’m ashamed to admit that our whole family begged her to stay with him.
” Dad stops, looking down at his shoes like he’s trying to gather the pieces of himself.
“We didn’t know what it was costing her.
We love Jake like a son, but she’s our daughter.
” The crack in his voice pierces me. “We should’ve protected her, first.”
My mom steps forward then, her chin trembling but her eyes fixed on Doug with a raw, maternal heat.
“I called her ‘the glue’ for fifteen years,” Mom says, her voice gaining strength with every word.
“I thought I was complimenting her strength. I didn’t realize I was telling my daughter that her only worth was in holding someone else together.
We used her as a tool to keep Jake steady.
We were so busy worrying about him that we let our daughter become invisible. ”
She turns to me, her eyes wet and searching. “Scottie, I’m so sorry. Jake’s reputation isn’t worth a single one of your tears.” She grabs my hand, squeezing as she looks at Doug. “If being a ‘liability’ means she’s finally putting herself first, then she’s exactly where she needs to be.”
I look at my mom. “I didn’t make it easy for you to see it.”
“You shouldn’t have had to,” she says simply. Fiercely. “I’m your mother.”
I feel... I feel...
Loved.
Seen.
And, honestly, vindicated.
Happy.
Doug looks at the four of us. The silence stretches, agonizing and heavy. He looks at the cart the barista left, then he grabs the first drink he sees and takes a long drink. And he doesn’t stop.
When he’s tipped the last of it into his mouth, he breathes out, the tension in his shoulders deflating just enough to let me know we might survive this.
“Jake had some interesting things to tell me about your relationship after you left,” Doug says, making my legs feel rubbery. He points a finger at Lucas and me. “The less I know about this business, the better.”
We nod.
He watches us nod like he’s wondering if it’s enough. “Here’s the thing: I hate losing talent even more than I hate drama.”
“Jake’s not going to cause a single moment of drama,” Mom says in that sharp teacher voice she’s mastered. “I can promise you that much.”
Doug straightens up just hearing her tone. “Good. Good.” He looks at me, and his eyes soften. But they sharpen the moment he looks at Lucas. “Fischer, you’re smart enough to fall for a woman worth going to bat for. Maybe you’re smart enough to handle the Show. Don’t pack.”
He grabs another drink, and this one, he sips. He glances at the cup, like he’s memorizing the drink name, then looks at me. “Scottie, I think I have a different talent you’d be better suited to manage than Fischer. You up for a change?”
“Uh, yes. Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“We’ll talk soon.”
With that, he nods and walks to the door.
I watch him in shock.
He gives us one final look, and I can’t tell if it’s frustration or... affection? It couldn’t be affection.
But he exits for his meeting before I can figure it out, and my parents follow, Mom giving me one last, watery smile that promises a long, real conversation later.
The door clicks shut.
And Lucas and I stare at each other, mouths open in astonishment, relief, excitement all mingling in a torrent of feeling I can’t name or deny.
“Is that it?” Lucas asks, his chest heaving again, his damp shirt sticking to his shoulders. He reaches for me, but right before his hands touch my waist, he pulls back.
“Wait,” he says, his blue eyes narrowing.
“If you ask me where the line is, so help me—” I start, but he shakes his head.
“No. You threw yourself in front of my train back there, Quinn. You started to step in front of me when Doug was yelling. And you did it in his office, too. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to hurt yourself to protect me, ever. If I didn’t love you so much, I’d be BIG mad.”
I snort at the reference to Jake’s horrible agent, but the humor is quickly eclipsed by the weight of his words. I bite back a smile, while my insides swirl.
“You love me?”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice dropping to that low, rough frequency that makes the rest of the world vanish. “And I’m never letting you disappear again, Quinn.”
Then he stops talking, because he’s finally, officially, erasing the line.
He doesn’t knock or wait politely. He just closes the distance, his hands coming up to cup my face, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones with a hunger that makes my knees weak and a reverence that strengthens them.
When his mouth melts into mine, there’s nothing more to setup for. This is the explosive quiet of the stadium when the ball hits the mitt at a hundred and two miles per hour for the final out.
And the roar of the fans that follows.
Lucas is all heat and salt and minty breath. After every drink he’s ever brought me—every combination of cream and roast and syrup—nothing has ever tasted as good as this.
I’ve been followed. I’ve been found. I’ve been chosen.
And I’m not disappearing again.
***
When we finally come up for air, he’s not smiling like I am. In fact—
“Uh, why are you frowning?” I ask.
“I was thinking about how you said if I asked you where the line was one more time.” He shakes his head, still holding me close, but more carefully now.
“I should never have told you that was your job,” he says.
“I should’ve drawn the lines with you. In fact, I should’ve made it so undeniably clear that I’m in love with you—and that I’m never letting you disappear on me—that the lines never mattered in the first place. ”
Emotion catches in my chest. “Lucas, your job was at stake. Your entire career.”
“So was yours. And Jake’s.”
I’m so thankful that he cares enough to want to understand, my eyes prick with tears I don’t shed. “Thank you for understanding,” I say simply. I don’t need to go into some lecture about the mental load of women who care for everyone and everything.
All I need is to know someone else cares, too.
“It doesn’t matter where I play,” he says with such honesty that I believe him. “Every athlete knows the game could be taken from them tomorrow. I can handle it. I can’t handle losing you, though.”
“Because you love me,” I say, aware that I sound almost smug, but I can’t help it. Maybe I am smug.
“Yup.” He kisses one of my hands.
“Good. Because I love you, too.”
His grin breaks open, and he pulls me into a huge, tight hug that makes me feel so safe, so seen, I know without a doubt that I’ll never tire of it. He kisses my head over and over.
“Okay, okay,” I laugh. “You’re sweaty.”
“I ran the stairs, like, five times looking for you,” he says into my hair. “You’re lucky I didn’t pass out in the stairwell.”
“What?”
“Yeah, the elevators were too slow,” he says, his chin on my head. “I checked the gym, and back to your room. The dining room. Back up. The roof deck—”
I tilt my head back to look at him. “You seriously searched the entire hotel for me?”
“Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I echo, like that’s the most normal thing in the world.
And somehow I know that if I’m lucky enough to get a lifetime with Lucas—it will be.
***
After a great deal of making out, we remember that my parents are probably still waiting outside the conference room.
As soon as we come out, hand in hand, Mom grins. Her eyes are shiny again. Dad’s arms are crossed, but his expression is warm.
Lucas straightens, but he puts an arm around me as he reaches out a hand.
“Sir, I’m Lucas Fischer. I’m in love with your daughter.”
“I caught that,” he says, studying him like a scout assessing a draft prospect. Then he takes Lucas’s hand and shakes it once. “You made a mess of it, though, did you?”
Lucas glances at me, then back at Dad. “Looks that way, sir. I’m sorry.”
He smiles. “We’re a messy family. You’ll fit right in.”
Mom chuckles and sniffs loudly beside him.
“Well,” she says, wiping her eyes and looking at the coffee cart still inside the conference room. “If that cart is any indication, you certainly know our daughter.”
I laugh as Mom and Lucas shake hands, too.
The barista is hovering outside, too, clearly wanting her cart back. She darts into the conference room and returns a few moments later with it.
Mom and I both grab a cup. Then Mom looks at Lucas. “Did you want one?”
“No, I don’t drink coffee.”
Mom gives him a horrified look. “Oh. Well, I’m sure you have other things going for you.”
Lucas laughs hard. “I hope so.”
Mom smiles and glances between us. Then she sighs.
“Your father and I caught up on some headlines on the way from the airport,” she says, her voice dropping about fifteen degrees. “Jake and I are going to have a very long conversation.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask, both worried for Jake and grateful that she cares enough to want to make this right.
“We’re not going to ground him,” Dad says.
“I make no promises.” Mom pulls out her phone and her eyes flash as she looks at the Find a Friend app.
“Oh, funny. He’s in the hotel right now.
” She gives us a sharp smile, but her eyes are tender when she puts a finger under my chin.
“Scottie, why don’t you and Lucas go back to your room.
Your father and I have a mess to clean up. ”
It’s amazing how she can go from fierce to feeling in a blink of an eye. “Okay.” I let go of Lucas to hug Mom.
“Thank you for coming.”
“I’m sorry it took so long,” she says.
When I watch my parents stride toward the elevator, I lean back into Lucas’s hug.
I feel raw from crying so hard, and when I try to smile, it almost hurts.
Healing doesn’t come in an instant, but hope can.
And I’m filled with so much hope for a future with my family that it’s leaking out of my eyes.
“Let’s go up,” Lucas says, kissing my temple.
“Should we take the stairs?” I ask as we grab my bags and start toward the hall.
Lucas whimpers, and I laugh. His hand finds the small of my back like it belongs there. The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and we step inside, over the line at the exact same moment.
Equal.
All in.
Together.