17. Emma

The dayafter my trip to Detroit, I text Lukas and ask him to meet up. He seems eager, so I tell him to meet me at Dark Matter, my favorite neighborhood coffee shop. Hopefully that sends the message that this is not a sexual thing.

I really like Lukas. Our attraction is animalistic. There's something broken and wild about him that calls to the broken and wild parts of me. But if we're going to keep seeing each other, I need to clear the air with him.

I need to know what happened with Ryan's girlfriend.

When we get to Dark Matter, Lukas envelops me in a hug, his hard body pressed against mine in all the right places. I try to steel myself against his charms, at least for the duration of this conversation. We grab lattes and sit down on one of the shop's pillowy couches, our knees grazing each other and sending sparks right through me. Get it together, Emma.

I take a deep breath and look into Lukas's eyes. "So…on that trip with Ryan, I had a good amount of time to chat with him. We got kind of personal with it, and he told me that you two have history. That you slept with his high school girlfriend."

The warmth in Lukas's eyes disappears. "Of course he told you. Ryan cannot go two seconds without making everything about fucking Madison from ten fucking years ago."

The anger in his voice is surprising, considering that he was the one who did a bad thing and he's not denying it. But I don't want to start accusing him of something without all the facts. "So, it happened then?" I grab his hand, squeeze it, trying to show him that I want to be on his side. "Just tell me the truth, Lukas. I'm a big girl, I can handle it. But I want to know this story from your perspective."

Lukas sighs, running his other hand over his face. He looks exhausted by this. "Yeah, it happened. Ryan and Madison came to town, and we went out to a party. All of us had a lot to drink. Like, way too much." He shoots me an embarrassed look. "Frat party, you know? I remember being at the party, and then the next thing I know, I'm back in my dorm room, and Madison is on top of me."

I chew my lip. "You…were blackout drunk?"

He nods slowly, his gaze going somewhere faraway. "Once I realized what was happening, I told her to stop, I remember that much. But I don't know, maybe she didn't hear me, or didn't think I was being serious. I probably could have done more, but I was so out of it…"

I stare at Lukas in shock, my stomach twisting into knots. "Lukas…that's assault. If you told her to stop and she didn't, that's not okay at all."

He shrugs, still not meeting my eyes. "I mean, I get it. I was a horny 19-year-old, and there was a hot girl on top of me. My body was into it even if my mind wasn't fully there. It's not her fault I drank too much."

"No." I shake my head vehemently. "Consent matters. Being drunk is not consent. If the genders were reversed, no one would question that it was wrong of her."

Lukas finally looks at me, his green eyes stormy with conflicting emotions. "You think? I don't know, Em. I've never really thought about it like that. I just figured it was another notch on my bedpost, even though it was one I was ashamed of."

I take both of Lukas's hands in mine, holding his gaze intently. "Lukas, listen to me. What happened to you was not okay. It wasn't your fault. You were taken advantage of when you weren't in a state to properly agree to it. That's on Madison, not you."

Lukas blinks rapidly, and I can see moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. He clears his throat gruffly. "I…wow. I guess I just never saw it that way. Because I'm a guy, you know? We're supposed to always want it."

"Toxic masculinity is a hell of a drug," I say wryly. "But your feelings matter. You matter. And I'm so sorry that happened to you."

There's silence for a moment, before he speaks. "Thank you, Emma." Lukas's voice is hoarse with emotion. He leans forward, resting his forehead against mine.

I breathe him in for a beat, then two. God, I came here half-expecting to break things off with him, and now I'm falling harder and faster than I ever could've anticipated. I pull back, unable to hold in my next question.

"Wait, so Ryan…he doesn't know? That you didn't consent to this, that Madison took advantage of you? That you're not actually at fault for anything that happened?"

Lukas shakes his head, his face going stormy again. "No. Honestly, it was easier to be the bad guy. The seducer. Everyone expects it from me anyway. That way, Ryan could blame me, and hopefully that would help him move on. It's not like he was ever my friend—he's Slade's friend. I didn't think I'd ever see him again after college." He sighs. "Even when we all started playing pro, I never expected that we'd end up on the same team."

I gape at Lukas, my mind spinning as I process everything he just revealed. I'm trying not to tear up. Lukas was just a kid who thought he deserved to be unfairly villainized. He's been carrying this pain and shame all these years.

"Lukas, I am so sorry," I say softly, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles. "What you went through…that's trauma. Have you ever talked to anyone about it? A therapist, maybe?"

I know first-hand how much therapy can help you heal from trauma. Even thirteen years after my parents' deaths, I don't miss my weekly appointment.

But Lukas shakes his head, looking uncomfortable at the suggestion. "Nah, that's not really my thing. I just try not to think about it most of the time, you know?"

"I get that," I say gently. "But bottling it up isn't healthy either. It festers. Maybe it's time to finally unburden yourself. At least to Slade, or even to Ryan himself?"

Lukas is quiet for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought. He takes a sip of his coffee before he speaks. "I'll think about it. But…I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it with anyone else. Please don't tell either of them?"

"I would never betray you that way," I tell him.

Lukas nods, looking relieved. "I know. I trust you, Emma." He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek. "More than I've trusted anyone in a long time."

My breath catches in my throat. The vulnerability in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice—it's almost too much. I want to wrap my arms around him and never let go.

"I'm here for you, Lukas," I murmur. "Always. We'll figure this out together, okay?"

He smiles, a real, genuine smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "Together. I like the sound of that."

And then he's leaning in, capturing my lips with his. The kiss is soft and slow, tender in a way I've never experienced with him before. Like he's pouring every ounce of his heart into it.

This casual hookup is starting to feel a lot less casual.

A few weeks later, I step into the arena, the familiar chill of the ice and the buzz of the game night crowd washing over me. But as I make my way to the press box, my mind is preoccupied with thoughts that have nothing to do with hockey.

The crowd erupts in cheers as the puck drops, signaling the start of the game. I try to lose myself in the action, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I capture every heart-pounding moment.

But it's harder than ever to focus, my thoughts constantly drifting back to the three men who have turned my world upside down.

I watch as Ryan slams an opponent into the boards, his massive frame rippling with power. He's like a force of nature out there, all raw strength and intensity. It's the same intensity I see in his eyes when he looks at me, like he wants to consume me whole.

Ryan has been true to his word about wanting to properly date me. He hasn't asked about me dating other guys, but he's going out of his way to make sure I know he's thinking about me. We've had a couple coffees and lunches, and nothing more than that, even though I'm absolutely aching for him.

My gaze snags on Lukas. He is a blur on the ice, his skates cutting graceful arcs as he weaves through the defense. He moves with a fluidity that's almost hypnotic, his body a symphony of perfectly timed movements. I can still feel the echo of those hands on my skin, the whisper of his breath against my ear.

I now know something about Lukas that no one else does. The fact that he trusts me with one of the worst things that's ever happened to him…it means so much to me. We haven't had a chance to be alone since that day at Dark Matter, the team has just been so busy it's been nonstop, but we text constantly. It's easy, light, flirty, and fun, even though there's that undercurrent of something more.

And, of course, there's Alex, with his quiet intensity. Sometimes when Alex looks at me, I feel like he can see right into my soul and into my deepest, darkest desires, ones that I don't even know about. We've had stolen kisses in the hallway here and there that have left me dying for more—but the whole team is so focused on training and winning games that we haven't had any real time together, either.

I'm so caught up in my own head, in the swirl of emotions and hormones, that I almost don't notice the tightness in my chest at first. But as the minutes tick by, the sensation grows, the air around me seeming to thin with each passing second.

Frowning, I reach for my purse, fumbling for my inhaler. But my fingers close around empty air, a sinking realization washing over me.

In my distraction, in my haste to get here and see the guys, I forgot to pack it.

Anxiety claws at my throat as I struggle to breathe, my vision starting to swim.

This can't be happening, not here, not now.

I stumble out of the press box, my chest tightening with each wheezing breath. Panic grips me, cold and sharp, as I make my way down the concourse. The lights seem too bright, the cheering crowd a distant echo as I focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

Maybe if I can just get some fresh air, I can get my breathing under control. But deep down, I know it's futile without my inhaler. Stupid, stupid Emma. How could I forget something so critical?

With each step, the pressure in my lungs intensifies, like a vise slowly squeezing the air from them. I'm drowning on dry land, the sensation terrifyingly familiar from all the asthma attacks I had as a kid. Black spots swarm across my vision, and I have to brace myself against the cold concrete wall to keep from collapsing.

I fumble for my phone with trembling fingers, trying to focus long enough to call for help. But the screen blurs and shifts before my eyes, a dizzying kaleidoscope of light and color. My blood pounds in my ears as I struggle to make out the numbers.

9…1…1… The digits swim together, my brain too starved of oxygen to make sense of them. Fear rises like bile in my throat.

Is this how I die? Alone in a fucking stadium hallway because I was too scatterbrained and horny to remember my inhaler? God, I'm an idiot.

The edges of my vision fade to black as the phone slips from my grasp, clattering to the floor. I'm falling, spiraling into a suffocating abyss.