I swallowed, searching his face for the meaning behind that. Was he hurting? Did he regret coming with me tonight? Did he regret kissing me?
“I’m sorry you got hurt, Lucas. I hate that you did, but…” I trailed off, hating myself a little bit for what I was going to say. “Does it make me a horrible person to say that despite everything, I’m glad you were there? With me?”
He shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?” He looked at me as if he was waiting for something. “I would have never let you go in there alone, Rosie. Never.”
I shifted, moving a little closer to him.
Lucas reached out a hand, the pads of his fingers brushing the corner of my lips lightly. Too quickly. “I can’t believe you were ready to hit him with your purse. For me.”
He wasn’t smiling. Or laughing. And I didn’t want to, either, because I had been dead serious about that. “And I can’t believe you stopped me from doing that.”
“You’re always beautiful,” he shocked me by saying, and my heart sped up. “But seeing you like that? Ready to claw your way forward to protect me?” He paused, his eyes filling with something that would have been awe if not for the heavy and sultry quality that coated them. “You were breathtaking. Like an avenging angel. I had to stop myself from kissing you there and then.”
My lips parted, and my face flushed. Not from embarrassment, but from the wave of need that in that moment washed over my whole body. Because Lucas was not only saying he’d wanted to kiss me, but he was also looking at me like he’d die if he didn’t.
“We shouldn’t,” he breathed out. “It’s late, and we should get some sleep.”
Reluctantly, I nodded.
Lucas added, “My leg will be better tomorrow, I promise.”
I didn’t believe him. But I loved him for still trying. “You told me I could ask you anything, always, so I want to know about something.” He nodded. “Why do you have nightmares?”
Lucas tried to roll on his side and winced in pain.
“The accident,” he admitted, falling quiet for a full minute. “It’s ironic because I’m drowning in those nightmares. And that was not how it happened. It’s as if my head has come up with new different ways to haunt me in my sleep.” A long and shaky breath left his lips. “I haven’t been able to bring myself to talk about it, not since it happened.”
I scooted closer to him. “Why?”
“There hasn’t been anyone I’ve… wanted to tell, until now. Someone who wouldn’t want to fix me. Because there’s nothing left to fix, Rosie.”
Fix him? Didn’t he see that he was perfect? There was nothing about Lucas that needed fixing. “You can’t fix something that’s not broken, Lucas.”
He reached an arm around my waist, bringing me closer to him. “I was prepping for a competition in Hossegor, weeks before Lina’s wedding,” he said, voice like gravel. And just like that, I knew that he was going to open up. He was finally going to talk about it. With me. And I felt the luckiest woman in the world to have him trust me first.
“Hossegor?”
“In France,” he paused. “It’s not a particularly dangerous beach but… there’s this one spot with one of my favorite breaks. Rosie”—he sighed, and it was somehow hopeful, happy—“it’s such a beautiful place. The conditions have to be right, but the wave can hold shape up to three meters, which is almost ten feet, I think. Big, wonderful waves. That’s why I’d always try to visit at least once a year. Even if some days it’s just close-outs you can’t ride.”
He was talking with a kind of passion I recognized. It was the same one I heard in my voice when I talked about writing. About my dream. Or the one I’d seen glimpses of in him when he talked about cooking.
“The problem with that spot, though,” he continued, his tone no longer the same, “is the shore break. If you’re riding a wave that breaks directly onshore, it can propel your body out and onto the sand. With that speed and force, it’s like hitting concrete. You can break your neck. Damage your spinal cord. Or your extremities if you fall in a certain way.” His voice broke, his eyes fluttering closed. “And I knew all of that. I knew the risks. It’s a gnarly place, reserved for pros for a reason. And yet…”
And yet it somehow happened.
My palm landed on his chest, and I could feel his heart pounding under my fingers.