Page 29 of Love Me (Charlotte Monarchs Hockey #1)

“You can’t fix it, Bree.” Luke brushes his thumb over a teardrop that slips out, spreading wetness across my cheek. “And no one has the right to put that much pressure on you to fix it.”

“That’s life, right? We do what we have to for family. Even when we know we can’t fix it, we try our hardest anyway.”

Luke slams back in his chair like I’ve shocked him. The cute Greek lady who owns Zorba’s stops at our table with two plates heaped with food.

She peers at us over her round wire-framed glasses as she sets them down. “You need anything else?”

Luke and I shake our heads. “Thanks,” I say. After she walks away, I look at Luke, who seems spooked as he butters his wholewheat toast. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” He drops his toast onto his plate.

“What your brother is going through reminds me of my own situation. A year ago, I had a prolapsed cervical disc that had compressed onto my spinal cord. I had the surgery. I followed my doctor’s orders to the letter.

Rest, then physical therapy. I got into the best shape of my life, and now, no one will clear me to play. I don’t understand it.”

“Spinal cord injuries are nothing to mess with,” I offer as if that will help. I’m sure he’s heard that a hundred times over the last year.

“I know. Paralysis and all that jazz.” Luke laughs without humor. “But the doctors said I could be paralyzed doing some random everyday activity, too, so I’d rather take my chances and play hockey.”

I place my hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry. I know how devastated Mason was to be out of the game. I imagine it’s even more so for you. To have made it all the way to the NHL only to have that dream taken away.”

“It fucking sucks. Especially being around it all the time yet not really being a part of it.” Luke glances at me.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to the Monarchs for keeping me in the organization, but sometimes being around the guys—the game—gets me depressed.

I’m so close.” He lifts his hand and holds his thumb and index finger an inch apart. “Yet always on the outside.”

Instead of trying to think of some lame words of comfort, I get out of my seat and walk around the table to Luke’s side. A look of confusion and surprise crosses his face when I lower myself into his lap. He quickly scoots his chair back to give me room.

I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight. I’m sure he’s heard enough logic and medical terminology explaining why he can’t play with his type of injury to last for a lifetime. He doesn’t need more from me.

Sometimes a hug is the best answer.

When I pull away, I look him in the eyes and say, “I can’t pretend to understand how hard it is to lose your career, to lose everything you’ve worked for your entire life.

I can’t imagine the pain and frustration of not being able to play.

But I’m really impressed by your strength and maturity.

And how you’ve been able to make the best of your situation. ”

Luke looks away, but I take his face in my hands and make him meet my eyes again.

“I wish I could make your injury go away. I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. I wish I could tell Mason what he wants to hear. But a selfish part of me just wants both of you to live happy and healthy lives.”

“Anyone who calls you selfish is an idiot, Bree.” He rests his forehead against mine. “I’ve never met a more selfless person in my life.”

The closeness is comforting and exhilarating. And a bit odd. How is it possible that we have this kind of connection? I’ve never wanted to take away someone’s problems—or take them on myself, if I could.

“You want a no-games relationship, right, Bree?”

Our foreheads are still touching, but I still manage a nod.

It’s what he wants me to do, right? The tug at my heart tells me it’s what I want, as well.

The excitement at being with him brings a rush of heat to my cheeks and a swirl to my stomach.

It’s a feeling I didn’t expect to find—or want to find—in Charlotte.

“You’re amazing, Bree. How did I get so lucky that you chose a job in this city at the hospital where I volunteer?” His hands slip to my waist.

My heart skips a beat at his firm grip and easy compliments. I’ve got to slow him down. “You are the first guy I’ve ever encountered who doesn’t understand what ‘hookup only’ means.”

“I understand what it is, but that’s not what I want.

You’re too special for just a hookup, Bree.

I want more, and if I don’t make that clear, someone else is going to slip in and steal you away.

” When he says the words “slip in,” his hands slide under my shirt and his long fingers trace my rib cage.

“I’m not looking for anyone.” I pull back slightly.

The conversation has me a bit claustrophobic, but I don’t want him to take his hands off me. The more I try to force the issue of not getting involved, the more I wonder why I can’t just let myself go and enjoy the time I’m spending with Luke. Let whatever happens happen.

“You’re the holy grail of chicks, Bree,” Luke blurts, then backtracks immediately. “Girls, I mean, or ladies, women—you know what I mean. You’re beautiful, down-to-earth, and have a heart of gold. The longer I know you, the more I see it.”

“You’re too sweet.”

His hands make their way up my sides, and his thumbs skim the skin just under the underwire of my bra.

I take a deep breath and hold it for a split second, basking in the anticipation of him sliding his thumb under my bra and over my breast. I’m pretty sure his long fingers could reach my nipple.

I don’t even care that we’re sitting in a restaurant. There’s no one else in here anyway.

“I should let you go before I have your clothes off and your legs spread on this table.”

“I’m game if you are,” I say and nip his lower lip with my teeth.

Luke flips the nip into a deep kiss, pressing his mouth against mine and sliding his tongue inside. My automatic response is to wrap my arms around his neck and press my chest against his.

Though I’ve tried to deny it, I know in my heart that our fun, flirty trysts shifted after Jack’s funeral. The chemistry turned from sexual to serious. If we don’t stop soon, I won’t be able to turn back. Physically or mentally. At this point, I’m not so sure I want to.

As I let myself sink into the intensity of the kiss, panic builds inside. My breath increases to the speed of my racing heart. Luke’s lips are becoming a lifeline; if I break away, I’ll die.

Reluctantly, I pull back, inhaling a gulp of air to remind myself what I really need to live.

Professional athletes are selfish. It’s all about them and what feeds their ego. I need someone who understands my career isn’t a placeholder until motherhood. I don’t want to sacrifice myself for someone else in that way.

I refuse to have a relationship like my parents. Resentment and anger over what could have been if my dad had continued in hockey.

Then again, Luke doesn’t play hockey anymore.

Easing myself off his lap, I rake both hands through my hair as I move back to my own seat. I immediately spear a piece of my veggie omelet, pretending the normal act of eating breakfast will suppress the way that kiss just intensified all the feelings I’ve been trying to quell.

At first, we’re both silent, each of us taking a moment to calm down. Then Luke says, “You have the most unassuming naughtiness of any girl I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you,” I say, lifting my mug to my lips. I can’t tell him that naughtiness had nothing to do with the passion in that kiss. It’s not about pure lust anymore. It’s much, much more.

“That’s all I get?” Luke teases me.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Luke. You have a maturity that I don’t usually see in guys our age. Even in professional athletes who have to grow up quickly. There’s still immaturity in how they interact with women.”

“Like hooking up the first night we met?” Luke winks. “That kind of immaturity.”

“Technically, we didn’t. You cooled it off because I was too drunk. In the heat of that moment, a lot of guys don’t stop.”

It’s sad but true. There’s a line, and I have a lot of respect that Luke wouldn’t cross it even while inebriated.

“I know.”

“You’re respectful, mature, talented, and great with kids. Actually, you’re a natural with kids.” As I think about it, I realize I don’t know much about him. “Do you have any?”

My question makes Luke choke. His eyes bulge, and his cheeks fill up as he pounds his chest. Then he brings a napkin to his mouth and releases a few short, hacking coughs into it.

“Oh my gosh!” I stand up quickly and pound on his back. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Luke raises his hand to stop me from whacking him again. “I’m good,” he squeaks.

Embarrassment sends me back to my seat. I lift my mug to my lips again and look at him over the rim. “You sure?”

He nods and wipes away moisture from the outside corner of his eye. “Just wasn’t expecting that question.”

“I have no idea why I asked you that,” I explain. “I mean, I could have asked you if you had younger siblings, but instead I had to go all baby-daddy on you.”

“Must be part of being a nurse, eh?” he asks. “Getting right to the heart of the matter.”

“It does make my job easier when I have all the facts.”

Luke shakes salt onto his eggs, then reaches to replace the shaker in the condiment holder without looking. It falls to the table.

He finally tears his eyes away from me to glance at the mess he’s made. He brushes the salt off the table, then picks up the saltshaker again and tries to ram it into the holder.