She rolled her eyes, that signature Riley scoff escaping before she even answered. “I had to say something to get past security.”
“You could’ve said you were my cousin,” I teased, just to see her nose wrinkle the way it always did when she found me gross on purpose.
“Gross,” she muttered. “I like having standards.”
That made me laugh, even if it hurt a little to do it. But the truth was—God, it was nice hearing her say that. Nice hearing her at all. I looked at her a little longer, let my guard slip just a touch. “Still. Kind of nice hearing it. Even if it was a lie.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine. “Didn’t say it was a lie.”
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
The cocky grin slid right off my face. My brain lagged. My body caught up first—leaning slightly forward before my ribs reminded me not to be an idiot.
She was messing with me. She had to be.
“Don’t read into it, Rivera,” she said, shrugging like she didn’t just split the ground open. “Desperate times call for desperate declarations.”
I winced, shifting again. “You always get desperate for me when I’m injured, huh?”
She hurled a pillow at me. Missed completely. Worth it.
But then she got quiet. Really quiet.
“I was worried about you,” she said, and her voice didn’t hide a damn thing. “Seeing you on the ground like that—it… it felt like my lungs stopped.”
I couldn’t joke after that. Couldn’t flirt or deflect or be anything but real.
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
She nodded, but her jaw was tight. “You weren’t supposed to be playing. I told the board. I told the team. You needed more time.”
“She said I was fine,” I muttered, shame crawling in under my skin.
“The PT?” she asked, eyebrows arched.
I nodded, and the look on her face could’ve frozen the entire floor. “Great judgment. Clearly.”
I tried to defend her. “It’s not her fault. I pushed her. I needed to prove something.”
And that’s when she asked it. The question I’d been avoiding since the moment I laced up my cleats again.
“To who?”
I looked right at her. “To you.”
She froze.
I didn’t mean to drop it like that. Didn’t mean to spill that truth out loud. But it was there now, between us, filling the room.
“You think I needed you to prove something?” she asked, voice cracking.
“I think I’ve always been scared you’d outgrow me.”
Her reaction came fast—like a reflex. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Not exactly the reaction I hoped for,” I said with a weak grin.
She stood then. All fire and frustration and something that looked like heartbreak. “I didn’t leave because I outgrew you, Lucas. I left because you pushed me away.”
She was right. I didn’t argue. Just looked down at the blanket, tracing a fold with my fingers.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” I said quietly. “You were getting those offers. Talking about conferences and fellowships. And I was… stuck.”
“You weren’t stuck,” she snapped, voice thick. “You were scared.”
I looked up and met her eyes, glassy and fierce. “Yeah.”
Silence again. But this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
Then I saw her smile twitch, and I knew something stupid was coming.
“You know… there is one thing you could do to make it up to me,” I said, tilting my head.
“Oh, no,” she said, already suspicious.
I patted the bed. “Just a little kiss. Right here.” I tapped my cheek, smirking. “For my pain and suffering.”
I expected another pillow. Maybe another roll of her eyes.
I did not expect her to lean in and kiss me.
On the mouth.
It hit like a shock to the chest. Soft lips. Fast breath. That familiar taste of stubborn and sweet. My hand moved to the back of her neck without thinking, pulling her closer like I’d done it a hundred times. Like no time had passed.
By the time she pulled away, I was speechless.
My voice barely worked. “Okay… not gonna lie. I thought you’d slap me. That was way better.”
So she slapped me.
On the shoulder.
“That was for being smug,” she said.
I laughed. Actually laughed. “Worth it.”
She smiled—and it was the kind that made everything inside me light up. I watched her brush a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to act chill while I sat there wrecked from a three-second kiss.
She grabbed the pillow again, just to threaten me. “Enjoy the room while it lasts. Recovery starts tomorrow.”
I groaned. “You’re still my physical therapist, aren’t you?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Every damn day.”
I blinked. “You’re staying here?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
It took me a second to ask, afraid of the answer. “What about your research?”
Her reply hit me harder than any tackle ever had.
“Without you,” she said softly, “there’s no research.”
And just like that, I wasn’t in pain anymore. I was alive.