Chapter 21

Lucas

Stephanie opens her apartment door and I give her a quick, hard kiss as I drop my overnight bag on the floor. When I pull away, I clap my hands and rub them together. “Just dropped my parents at the airport, left behind a squabbling Simone and Van to kill each other, and you and I have four days together where the only obligation I have is practice for a few hours each day. I’m so fucking excited I don’t know what to do first.”

She smiles at me and digs her fingers into the waistband of my jeans. Her voice is husky as she looks up at me. “I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to entertain ourselves.”

“Damn skippy,” I tell her as I wrap my arms around her back. “You’re going to be walking funny by the time I’m done with you.”

Four days where I can lie around and do nothing but fuck Stephanie. Since we took the Florida Spartans in five games and our next round doesn’t start until Saturday, that’s four days of little to no obligations except for some practices to keep the gears functioning. While I’ve adored having my family here for the last three days, I was eager to pack them off because that meant three days where I didn’t see Stephanie, since I was trying to spend my time with them while they were in town.

Stephanie did come to the play-off game as well as hung out at Max’s house for the celebration that came after taking the first round of the play-offs. But after that, she stayed away at her insistence so I could have time with my family. I was torn because I wanted to see her and I wanted to see my family, and I was slightly pissed I couldn’t have both. Pisses me off even more how much I missed her.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, moving a hand to her belly.

“Nausea’s almost all gone. Didn’t even barf today, just a slight rolling stomach. My boobs are really getting sore, though. You’re going to need to leave them alone until that passes.”

“Well, that fucking sucks,” I say with mock annoyance, but then I let her go, spinning to my duffel. “I got you something, though, that will make things a lot easier for you.”

“What’s that?” she asks curiously.

I take a folder out of my bag and walk into the kitchen. Stephanie follows and I throw it onto the table and smile down at her smugly.

She bends over and reads the wording on the front out loud. “ ‘Pregnancy Activity Planner.’ ”

I smile even bigger.

“You got me an activity planner?” she asks dryly.

“Yeah, it’s awesome,” I say, still very pleased with myself. I open it up and start flipping through the pages. “See…you can track all of your physical activity so we can make sure you and the baby are staying fit, and there’s a section on tracking your nutrients and even a little journal where you can commemorate all of your symptoms. Oh, and I even added some really cool healthy shake recipes I printed out. You like kale, right?”

“Yeah,” she drawls out as she looks to me with big eyes. My smile gets bigger. “Not so much.”

“What?” I ask as my smile wavers. “You don’t like kale?”

“I don’t like any of what you just said,” she says softly…kindly, but very firmly.

My smile dies a quick death. “Why not?”

Stephanie shrugs and gives me a sheepish smile. “I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of girl.”

“But you know that physical fitness and good nutrition are important,” I remind her, and fuck, I sound like my mom.

Narrowing her eyes at me, she says, “You know…it’s almost as if you’re saying you don’t trust me to do right by this child.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m just trying to give you some supportive tools.”

“Well, I don’t need them,” she snaps at me.

Before I can even think to get pissed off by her attitude, she immediately bursts into tears. Big, fat droplets spill over her bottom lashes and slide down her cheeks. She stares at me in abject misery, and a searing sensation punches through me along with a moment of hopelessness.

But then I get my shit together and kick it into gear. I’m pulling her into my arms, one hand behind her head to press it into my chest. The other arm goes around her back and I rock her back and forth while she sobs onto my T-shirt, soaking the material within seconds.

“Get it out, baby,” I whisper to her, and resist the urge to sing her a lullaby. Whatever has made her sad, whatever has made these tears, I want to fix it. “Whatever it is, I’ll help you get through it.”

I’m totally stunned when Stephanie rips free of my hold with a pained sound of frustration.

“Stop trying to fix things, Lucas,” she says in a quavering voice as she furiously wipes at the tears in her eyes.

“I’m not—” I start to say.

“You are,” she cuts in, her voice imploring me to listen to her as if perhaps I’ve not really listened before. “You’re offering money, and health insurance, and kale shakes, and a freaking awesome family I could be a part of, and I can’t take it anymore.”

“What?” I say in confusion, but she keeps right on going.

“You’re so damn sweet and ask me every day about my nausea,” she says on a short sob before hiccupping. “You make sure I’m fed and taking my vitamins, and for fuck’s sake…you even did my laundry last week so I didn’t have to lift the baskets.”

“I was just—”

“And the shitty part is, any girl would die for that kind of care. You’re looking at me right now, wondering how you can make things better for me. You’re doing exactly what a dream guy should do, and I can’t handle it, because there’s something broken inside of me that won’t let me appreciate this.”

She continues crying, tears pouring down her face, and yet I’m afraid to make a move to hold her. So I keep my distance and tread very cautiously. “I’m just trying to help you. I don’t know why that’s a bad thing.”

A bitter, hoarse laugh tears free of Stephanie. “You can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be helped.”

“Sounds like a cop-out,” I murmur.

This doesn’t offend her, but it does inspire her to share. “My mom called me the day I got let go from the museum. Want to know why she called?”

Fuck no, I don’t want to know that shit. By the tone of her voice, I’m terrified to know.

“She thought I should have an abortion,” she says with pain-filled eyes.

“What?” I say in confusion, not even willing to believe a parent could say something so callous.

“She thought I should have an abortion,” she reiterates. “Her words were something along the lines of me not being able to really care for a child, and she had some legitimate points. Job instability, no direction in life, blah-blah-blah.”

I swallow hard, watching Stephanie’s spirit start to wither away in front of me.

“You know what I really heard, though?” she asks me in a choked voice. “I heard that I wasn’t good enough to have a baby. I wasn’t worthy of you and your family. I heard that I was so unlovable I shouldn’t ever try to aspire for anything more because it would be pointless.”

“Jesus fuck,” I hiss out, shaking my head in absolute denial. “Fuck no, Stephanie. Just no. That is not what she meant.”

“To me it is,” she whispers sadly. “Don’t you get it? I have a filter on my perception and it taints everything. There is no clarity for me. It’s all a jumbled mess of confusion, and the only thing I know with any measure of certainty is that I can lead a solid life by myself. It’s not too happy, but it’s definitely not too painful. It’s self-preservation, and I know I’m good at that.”

I just stare at her, unable to even form words. This obviously goes deeper than I thought or could comprehend.

Stephanie takes a deep breath in, dabs at her tears again, and exhales. “Lucas…for a person who’s never had care and support, it can feel smothering to me. For a person who’s never had to ask for help, it makes me feel guilty when I get it. And yet you’re the one person in my life that I’ve ever considered taking a very scary risk and opening myself up to. But I’m finding that it might be more than I can truly accomplish. I’m a complete garbled mess of emotions, trying to deal with the loss of a job, an unplanned pregnancy, and a wonderful guy who I can’t let in all the way, and frankly…I think I’m a complete failure at all of it.”

“You’re not. We can work through this. I swear you can do this, Stephy.” But my words sound hollow in the face of what she’s saying.

“No,” she says, shaking her head so hard in denial her hair flies around her face. “How can we work it out when I was so happy to see you when you got here and in a matter of minutes, you’re suddenly overwhelming me? I can’t do it, Lucas. Don’t you see…I’m not built for this.”

Suddenly I’m tired of hearing about her weaknesses. She’s made so much progress over the weeks, and she’s letting it all just go on what seems to me to be a whim.

“Bullshit,” I yell at her, and her mouth snaps shut as her eyes go wide. “I’ve never met anyone more built to have a relationship…to fall in love. But you’re so wrapped up in how bad your life was and spending so much time fortifying your fucking walls you’re forgetting to remember that doesn’t define who you really are if you don’t want it to. And don’t you dare tell me you don’t have the capacity to feel, because I see it in your eyes every time you talk about our baby. You have plenty of feeling inside of you.”

She just stares at me, soaking in my words, so I don’t let up. If she wants to have frank words, it’s now or never.

“I’m falling for you hard, Stephanie,” I tell her softly. “I was a fool to ever think this could stay casual…not when you’re carrying my child and not when you’re calling out my name when you orgasm. And I’m sorry, since it seems we’re laying this all out on the table, I’m just going to go ahead and say it…I want everything from you.”

“Everything?” she rasps out, panic gripping her expression.

“Everything,” I growl out to her, and I fucking go for broke. “I want love. I want marriage. I want a family with three kids. I want to go to bed with you every night and wake up with you every morning. I want us to take a station wagon to Yellowstone with our kids, and I want you at all my games cheering me on. I want an entire life with you, and eternity beyond that as well. I want it all, Stephanie. I’ve always wanted all of that, but I know I want it with only you.”

“Oh God,” she wheezes with her hand against her chest. She stumbles backward and sits down on the arm of the couch, her eyes staring blankly at the carpet. I wait for her to say something. To look at me. Fuck…anything other than this silence that’s actually so loud it hurts my ears.

“Is that all you have to say?” I ask her quietly. “Oh God?”

Her eyes come to mine, swimming with fresh tears. “I had a nice talk with your dad during the game a few days ago.”

This, I wasn’t expecting and I blink in surprise.

“He told me something I really already knew deep down,” she murmurs. “And that’s you’re a man who is all or nothing. When you choose to do something, your heart and soul are behind it.”

“That’s right,” I admit hesitantly.

“You see,” she says in a small voice filled with misery. “A man like that, well, he needs the same in return. He needs a woman who gives it her all and is willing to expose her heart and soul to do so.”

She lets the words hang heavy in the air, and no amount of wishful thinking will turn them into something else. She doesn’t respond to those things I laid at her feet with great sanctity such as love, marriage, kids, and a happily ever after. She says nothing more, and that says it all.

“I don’t understand how having someone love and care for you can be so bad,” I say, almost pleading with her to give me an answer to make this all better.

Her voice is flat and devoid of emotion. She gives me a robotic answer. A bullshit answer that she’s told herself so much it comes out rehearsed and disingenuous. “Although it wasn’t by my choice originally, there’s a benefit to being alone. You can avoid the risk of pain, because by being alone, you are guaranteed no one can hurt you.”

I know I’m a shit when I say it, but I can’t help it. She’s punking out on me and giving up before she ever really even tried.

“Is that what you’re going to teach our child?” I ask her in an icy voice. “You going to teach that baby to put walls up and close itself off from others?”

Stephanie’s face turns horror stricken. “God, no,” she gasps. “How could you even think that?”

“Because you’re fucking quoting that shit as your own personal doctrine to live by,” I snarl at her. “Because that’s all you know, and you’re too fucking scared to try for something better.”

And that’s the moment that I killed whatever chance I had with Stephanie, and I know that because her eyes go dead. Her voice is whisper soft but utterly fucking dead. “I’m sorry,” is all she gives me.

Our eyes are locked on each other, both of us battling to achieve things that aren’t acceptable to the other. Neither one of us able to fix what’s now broken.

“Where does that leave us?” I ask slowly.

After taking a deep, stuttering breath, she says, “I think I need some space.”

“I need you to be a little more specific than that,” I grit out, my anger starting to surge again because I’m now feeling utterly fucking powerless.

“I think for right now we just need to concentrate on this pregnancy and figuring out how to be parents,” she replies vaguely.

“So you want to just be friends again?”

“Yes,” she whispers, and I see something flicker back to life in her eyes.

Is that hope?

“I don’t think I can do that, Stephy,” I tell her firmly, perhaps hoping to push her into taking a chance to still move forward. “I don’t think I can go backward, and besides, that’s how the lines got blurred in the first place.”

Fear flashes in her eyes before they go flat and devoid of anything again, and I know that was the wrong thing to say.

“I know you care for me,” I tell her harshly, my anger rising again. “You’re just too weak to admit it.”

She doesn’t respond, just stares at me with those dead eyes. I wonder if that’s how she looked at her parents, and I hate myself and them for causing that, but I also think I hate Stephanie just a little bit for not being strong enough to risk it.

“Can you really just turn your feelings off like that?” I spit out at her, hoping to force some type of reaction.

And I get one.

It’s a sardonic smile, and her eyes are now filled with pain and regret. “Don’t you get it, Luc? I don’t have feelings. Not the kind that would sustain what you need. It’s what I am. Who I am.”

Fury rolls through me in blistering waves because she’s a fucking liar and a monster for even throwing that out at me. I know I’ll regret the words, but I need to hurt her as much as she’s hurt me. “I feel sorry for you, Steph. And I feel sorry for our kid. I sure hope to shit you learn how to really love before that baby comes along, or you’re going to fuck up its life the way your parents fucked up yours.”

I spin from her, not wanting to see how hard that last barb hit her and already reeling from the guilt of those nasty, slicing words. But I’ll get over it. She’ll get over it.

I pick up my duffel bag and sling it over my shoulder. As I open the door and step through, I call out over my shoulder, “I’ll see you at the next doctor’s appointment if I’m in town. If not, email me how it went.”

Pulling the door shut behind me, I leave Stephanie and her crazy, fucked-up head behind. I don’t need that shit.