Chapter 37

Chance

The predawn darkness clings to my bedroom as I hear the rustle of sheets. We finally made it to my place and we've spent the weekend together. Without opening my eyes, I know Lucy is slipping out of bed early this Monday morning. My chest tightens; I'm not ready for our weekend to end.

"Where are you going?" My voice sounds gravelly.

"I need to get ready for school. With the traffic this time of day, I'm not sure I'll be on time." She speaks in a practical tone that finishes the job of pulling me awake.

I prop myself up on my elbows and run my hand down her arm. "Can't you take the day off? We can enjoy a lot more of what we did all weekend," I say, joking but wholly hopeful.

She pauses, her conflict clear even in the dim light. "I didn't prepare for a teacher on call, so it wouldn't be fair to the substitute or the kids."

I lay back hard against the pillow, the mattress absorbing the impact. She's always so practical, and she's as driven as I am. That's what this is, right? An irrational worry that this weekend was just a fleeting moment begins to gnaw at me.

"You don't have to leave with me," she says. "You can stay in bed as long as you want." Her silhouette is framed by the faint light sneaking around the curtains.

"I should go to the hospital," I mumble, shrugging it off.

But she's not buying it. "Chance," she presses. "Are you okay? I have to work. You know this." She sits on the edge of the bed.

"I know." I meet her eyes and force a deep breath. "Of course you do. And so do I. I'm just having trouble letting go of this bubble, just the two of us."

Her expression softens. "Me too."

I reach for her hand. "I want you to know—and this may seem fast—but I want you to know I love you."

Her eyes go wide. "You do?"

"Yes." I nod. "I have no hesitation about how I feel."

She leans down, and her mouth finds mine. When we break apart, she looks at me and smiles. "I love you too."

Suddenly, I can breathe again. "I'm going to go up and check on Ginny before I go to the hospital. It's the only way I can be sure she eats."

"You always care for everyone around you. What do you do for you?"

I chuckle. "I think last night I did something for me at least twice."

She blushes. "I had a lot of fun this weekend. But this is all new."

I realize I'm putting a lot of pressure on her. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be greedy with your time."

She shakes her head. "You're fine. I want to see you tonight. How about Barney's? I'd like to check on my dad."

"I think that's perfect."

Her head tilts to the side. "I know you always strive to be better. To continuously improve everything around you. But I don't expect you to be perfect. We won't be perfect. Because I'm not perfect, either. We'll both make many mistakes. But we can do this together."

Her words strike a chord deep within me. We're both flawed, beautifully human, but we have a chance at making this work.

A little while later, she's ready for school, and I'm ready to face the day. It's funny how a few words can lift weights off your chest, weights you didn't even know were there.

"See you at Barney's after work?" I ask, and Lucy's nod is all the confirmation I need. I walk her to her car, and her scent still lingers on my skin, a reminder that this weekend was so much more than a dream.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I climb the stairs to Ginny's. When I knock on her door, it swings open almost immediately.

"Chance! What a pleasant surprise," she exclaims, stepping aside to let me in. "I haven't seen you all weekend," she adds with a smirk.

"Hope I'm not disturbing your morning," I say, nodding to the paper and mug in her hands. I'm not touching that other comment.

"Never," she replies. "You're always welcome here, you know that."

She steps back and ushers me in. I follow her into the kitchen.

"Sit down, sit down," Ginny insists before bustling over to the stove. "I'll make you some breakfast. It's the least I can do since you've bought all my groceries."

"Really, Ginny, you don't have to—" I start, but she cuts me off with a stern look that brooks no argument.

"Chance Devereaux, you will eat and enjoy it," she commands.

"All right," I concede, taking a seat. "But just so you know, helping you is never about getting something in return."

"Of course not," she calls over her shoulder, "but nobody leaves my house hungry."

I watch her move around the kitchen, cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them vigorously before pouring them onto a hot pan.

"Coffee with a splash of cream and a sugar, right?" Ginny asks, reaching for a mug.

"Spot on," I reply.

"Good." She slides a steaming mug across the table to me. "Drink up. You'll need the energy."

I wrap my hands around the warmth of the cup, letting the simple act of being here, with Ginny, anchor me after the emotional rollercoaster of the weekend.

"Thanks, Ginny," I tell her, and I mean for more than just the breakfast.

When she brings over the plates, I fork a hefty bite of scrambled eggs into my mouth, the rich taste mingling with the savory notes of sausage.

"Lucy and I are back together," I say between bites, happy to say it out loud.

Crinkles form at the corners of her eyes as a smile stretches across her face. "That's wonderful! She's a special girl."

I nod, appreciating her approval.

She then launches into the story of her past, recounting the passionate saga of her relationship with her late husband. "…and I told him, ‘This is your last chance. If we're doing this, it's for keeps,'" she says with a fiery glint in her eye. "And would you believe it? We never parted again until he passed—forty-eight glorious years."

"Sounds like you two really figured it out," I muse.

"Chance, don't make our mistakes. Don't start a cycle you can't break. Know what you want with Lucy, and go after it with everything you have," she advises.

I nod. It's easy to forget that every couple has their struggles, even my own parents, who seemed to sail smoothly through life. "My folks probably had their rough patches too," I confess. "But they made it look so easy."

Ginny gives me a knowing smile. "They worked it out before you even knew there was a problem to fix."

"Guess they did," I agree, feeling a newfound appreciation for the unseen efforts love requires.

The rest of breakfast passes in companionable silence. I stand to leave, plate clean and stomach full. "Thanks for the talk, Ginny. And the breakfast."

"Anytime, dear," she calls as I step out the door.

The day at work is a blur—signing papers, treating patients, the hum of hospital routine—but my mind is a record stuck on Lucy, replaying our moments together and counting the moments until I can see her again. And the good news is that we found where the money from Prometheus was being deposited. It's going into the payroll account and payroll tells me it has gone to nursing bonuses. I'll leave it there and continue the practice.

I'm flanked by Kent, Griffin, and Tori as we arrive at Barney's. Amelia is already there, sitting next to Lucy at the bar. They all turn as we walk in.

"Hey, guys!" Lucy greets us, her eyes meeting mine with a spark of something private and joyful.

"Be right back," she says, tugging gently at my sleeve, guiding me away from the group.

"Sure thing," I reply, curious but happy to follow her lead. "Guys, grab a table," I call to my friends over my shoulder.

I follow Lucy through the dimly lit corridor to the back office. The door creaks open, and we step into the cramped room, illuminated by the soft glow of a desk lamp.

"Chance," she says, her voice laced with a hesitant excitement, "are we… I mean, are you my boyfriend?" There's a vulnerability in her gaze that swells my heart with affection.

"Absolutely," I say. "I want us to be exclusive, just you and me."

Lucy's lips stretch into a wide, brilliant smile. "Good," she breathes. "I want to tell my dad. Like, right now."

"Let's do it," I agree.

We navigate through stacks of liquor boxes and pallets loaded with bar supplies before reaching the door marked Private . Inside, the room is a chaotic collection of Barney's innards—cases of beer form makeshift walls and boxes of napkins and disposable cutlery crowd the floor. But none of that seems to matter as Lucy approaches her father, who's buried under paperwork at his cluttered desk.

"Dad," she says. "I want to tell you something." She pauses to give him time to look up. "Chance and I are together. I wanted you to know first."

His weathered face breaks into a smile that quickly turns misty. "Lucy girl, that means everything to me," he murmurs, his voice thick as he rises to give her a hug.

She takes his hand. "You'll always be my dad."

He turns and offers me his hand.

"Thank you," I say, realizing the gravity of being let into their world.

Declan's grip is firm as we shake. His eyes, clouded moments ago with emotion, now sharpen into a focus that pins me in place. "Chance," he says, "I've got old friends, the kind who owe me favors. Members of the Irish mob. If you ever step out of line with Lucy, I make one call, and… Well, let's just say everyone's promises are kept."

I swallow hard, trying to gauge whether this is fatherly bluster or a genuine threat veiled in half-jest. The hint of steel in his tone suggests it's no laughing matter. Yet there's a twinkle in his eye that leaves me doubting. "Understood, sir," I manage.

"All right then." He claps me on the shoulder, a rough gesture that somehow conveys approval.

I'm searching for something else to say when Lucy tugs at my arm. "Come on. Dad's gotta work, and so do we," she says, pulling me back toward the laughter and chatter of our friends.

Kent, Amelia, Tori, and Griffin are clustered around a table, beers in front of them, waiting for our return. I catch the collective lift of their eyebrows as they see us approaching hand in hand.

"Guys," I start, feeling a rush of something like pride swell within me, "I want to propose a toast." I raise my glass high, catching the light in the golden liquid. "To Lucy, who's absolutely perfect in every way that matters." I turn to her, seeing a soft blush coloring her cheeks. "We're officially together."

The words hang between us, simple but heavy with meaning—a new beginning built on the rubble of the past.

The table erupts into happy gasps and hearty chuckles; Kent shoots me an incredulous look, one that mirrors Griffin's expression of bemusement.

"Man…" Kent shakes his head with a wry smile. "You've been with us all day, and you didn't drop even a hint?"

"Well, it wasn't the time earlier," I note. "And a few things were still falling into place." I wink at Lucy. "Inside the hospital, I have to be your boss," I admit. "But here…" I pause, my eyes traveling around the table to each person who has become more than just a colleague. "Here, I consider you friends."

It's Griffin who breaks the brief silence that follows. He lifts his glass once again. "To friendship," he declares, and the sentiment rings true and clear.

"To friendship," I add agree. And the foundation it provides for so much more .