Page 20 of Love Medley (Med Wreck Romance #1)
Chapter fourteen
Jake
A s I let Lucy into my apartment, everything about this situation feels surreal. I’m a mess of emotions: furious at Weston for bullying this breathtaking woman. Overwhelmed by the desire I feel for her. And gripped by the growing realization that I’m completely in over my head.
The irony isn’t lost on me—the woman I’m falling for is helping me reconnect with an ex I have zero interest in.
And she wouldn’t be doing this if she felt the same way I do.
Taking those photos was torture. I just wanted to tug Lucy ever closer, to be connected on every level. But that’s not going to happen.
I’ve always been too open with my heart, but I’m also an expert at hiding the devastation that inevitably follows.
I have a sinking feeling I’ll be putting those skills to use soon.
Regardless, I need to make sure Lucy is safe from that asshole Weston—that’s always been the true reason for this scheme, and I’m determined to see that through.
Even if it costs me more than I expected.
“Your place is bigger than mine,” Lucy says, her smile transforming her face.
I can already tell she’s more relaxed now that we’re no longer in her apartment.
A pulse of anger thrums through me as it becomes even clearer how scared she’s felt in her own home.
Knowing this only strengthens my resolve to help her.
“I didn’t know this was a competition,” I say, reaching out and tugging a lock of her hair before I can suppress the movement.
Oh God, I didn’t even hesitate that time.
Lucy isn’t the only one who acts before she thinks.
It’s getting harder to stamp out this continuous desire to touch her. Now I’m worried I overstepped.
But Lucy only beams up at me, and a kernel of warmth blooms in my chest.
Yup, I’m fucked.
Lucy’s already moved towards my keyboard and presses down one of the keys.
“What kind of music do you like?” I ask .
“All kinds, really,” Lucy says. “But currently, I’m addicted to musicals: Hamilton , Les Miserables , Phantom of the Opera .”
Well, damn. The universe is definitely messing with me.
“I love musicals,” I say, already walking towards her—my magnetic north. “ Hamilton ’s probably my current favorite, but I love some of the older ones like Fiddler on the Roof . Some of the movie musicals are really awesome too, like The Greatest Showman .”
Lucy’s eyes light up. “Oh my God, The Greatest Showman is one of my favorite movies! I listen to that soundtrack on repeat.”
Somehow this doesn’t surprise me in the least. That’s exactly the kind of musical she would love—the themes of acceptance, self-love, and following your passion would appeal to her.
They resonate with me too. The more I get to know her, the more I realize how our core values match. “Can I guess your favorite song?”
Lucy grins. “Sure.”
“‘This is Me,’” I say, without hesitation.
Her mouth drops open. “How did you know?”
“It’s you,” I wink.
“Oh my God, you are so bad with the puns.” She’s laughing and just like in Coffee Conglomerate, it’s delightfully infectious, and I can’t help but join in.
It sounds like…escape, freedom, and joy.
“I love that song,” I say, unnerved. “That one and ‘A Million Dreams’ have always spoken to me.”
Lucy stares at me. “Same. I guess we’re more similar than I realized. ”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling choked up for some reason.
“Will you play me something?” Lucy glances up at me, her finger still depressing a key.
“Sure. Do you sing?” I settle down on the bench and pat the space next to me. Immediately, I’m surprised by the naturalness of my gesture. When I'm with her…I don't overthink everything.
After a beat, Lucy settles next to me, her thigh pressing against mine, sending tingles everywhere. Maybe it’s a mistake to sit so close to her, but I don't regret asking.
“Definitely not. At most, in the shower.”
The thought of Lucy naked under a cascade of water makes me short-circuit. And this woman is currently in my apartment.
Fuck, get it together, Whitlock. She’s not just being cute—she’s opening up to you. And that’s a gift. “Why not?”
Lucy continues to hit random keys, probably so she doesn’t have to meet my eyes. “I have terrible stage fright. Put me in the spotlight, and I gape like a fish. Nothing comes out.”
My heart aches for her. “When’s the last time you tried to sing? Because I can tell from your voice that you probably sing beautifully.”
Lucy hesitates for a moment, her body tensing up. Something’s not right, and it takes all my willpower to not pull her into my arms. “Elementary school. It didn’t go well. My mom was right to point me elsewhere.”
I’m not an angry guy at baseline, but that admission fills me with fury .
What the fuck? What kind of parent would dissuade a kid not to pursue something just because they freeze up once?
Then I remember my own parents.
Welp. Parents officially suck ass.
Because Lucy is clearly uncomfortable with this turn in the conversation, I switch on the keyboard and start running through some scales. All I want is for her to feel secure and grounded. “Well, I hope one day you’ll sing with me.”
Then I start playing the intro to “All I Ask of You” from Phantom of the Opera . The first part is sung by Raoul, the man who becomes the love interest for Christine, the opera singer trained by the Phantom.
Although it’s technically a duet, I don't expect Lucy to join in—pressuring her now would only shatter this fragile moment of trust. But I wanted to sing this song to her, because the lyrics are full of gentle reassurances from a man who just wants his lover to feel safe. And that’s exactly how I want Lucy to feel.
Minus the lover part, of course.
And if there’s a not-so-subtle nod that I’m leaving the door open for a duet?
That’s just a bonus.
But to my complete and utter delight, Lucy’s clear and beautiful soprano enters the song right on cue. This woman who has been silenced by so many people in her life is finally finding her voice. I’m in awe of her—she’s gone through so much but she’s still fighting her way back .
Can she hear what I’m saying between the lines of the melody? I just want to be her sanctuary.
At least for right here, right now.
I continue playing, hoping not to disturb the spell cast on this moment.
The sweet longing of the words fill the room, a wistful plea for a world of light far from the Phantom’s dark underground prison.
For someone with an untrained voice, Lucy is still somehow capable of modulating her sound to deliver the maximum punch.
In the wake of those notes, I’m staggering under the weight of my emotions. Sharing this duet with her—conversing in a fluid, intimate way—only cements how in tune we are.
There’s a line in the song where Christine begs Raoul to tell her he loves her. When we reach that section, our eyes meet, frozen in the moment. Flustered by the feelings surging in my chest, I respond that of course, I do.
God, do I?
It’s a fucking song. Get a grip, Whitlock.
My jaw drops open as Lucy effortlessly hits the high A-flat near the end of the song, which is insanely difficult for so many singers. Because I’m so blown away by her, I almost stop singing to pay closer attention.
We sing the last few lyrics together, slowing down the tempo as written—but I also want to draw this out so it never ends.
As the last notes fade away, I stare at her, stunned. “Jesus, Lucy. Your voice is fucking amazing. ”
You’re amazing, Lucy. I only wish I could say those words out loud.
“I…haven’t sung in front of anyone in years,” Lucy says finally, a small smile curving the edges of her mouth.
We’re so close, and if I just leaned in one more inch, my lips would be on hers.
God, Lucy is so beautiful. My eyes trace every detail of her delicate features. The gentle arch of her eyebrows. Her high cheekbones.
Every single one of my nerves is buzzing. Lucy’s eyes meet mine, and I have the sense that maybe, just maybe, she’s feeling this too.
Lips parted, Lucy tilts her head just the slightest bit. Fuck, is this actually happening? I’m going to kiss her, and my life is never going to be the same.
At that moment, a car alarm splits the silence in my apartment, and we jerk apart. Stumbling off of the piano bench, I land flat on my ass, and we both burst into a fit of nervous laughter.
As I attempt to recover, Lucy says, “Hey, I think I’m gonna go.” She’s not quite meeting my eyes. “I’ll see you Tuesday at 6pm, right?”
Did I ruin everything by pushing her too hard, too fast? My heart is twisting inside of me.
“Yeah, if I can repair my bruised ego. That was not my finest moment,” I say, wishing she would look at me.
“No, this was great. I loved getting to sing with you.” But her words are rushed, almost panicked. She grabs her purse quickly and leaves .
After the door closes, I’m shell shocked, still sitting on the floor like a fucking idiot. What the hell just happened? Is she okay?
Am I okay?
And then I realize we never took any photos, which was supposedly the whole point of this excursion.
Also, I officially hate car alarms.