Chapter 169

Chapter 169
Katie

The Maybach's engine purred as we pulled out of the farm's long driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. I watched Montana's endless sky shrink in the side mirror, that familiar ache settling in my chest—the one that always came when I left Jack behind. Lucas's hand found mine on the center console, his thumb tracing slow circles over my knuckles.

"You okay?" he asked, voice low.

"Yeah. Just thinking."

"About?"

"About how different everything is now." I turned to look at him—silver hair catching the afternoon light, that careful expression he wore when he was trying not to push. "A year ago, I would've punched you for holding my hand this long."

His lips twitched. "You did punch me. Multiple times."

"Fair point."

We drove in comfortable silence for a while, the landscape shifting from rugged farmland to highway monotony. My phone buzzed with a text from Jack—just a photo of the wood-carved farmhouse Lucas had given him, sitting on the mantle next to my mother's picture. No words. He didn't need them.

"We need to stop before we get back," Lucas said as the Sterling Cape exits started appearing. "You're running low on training gear."

I glanced down at my worn hoodie. "This is fine."

"Katie. That thing is held together by hope and spite."

"It has character."

"It has holes." He took the exit for Sterling Promenade without waiting for my response. "Humor me. Please."

The shopping center sprawled ahead—all glass facades and designer storefronts and the kind of wealth that still made my teeth set on edge. Lucas found parking near the athletic district, which I appreciated. At least he'd learned to skip the Gucci-and-Prada gauntlet.

Inside the sporting goods store, I gravitated toward the clearance racks while Lucas made a beeline for the premium section. We met in the middle, him holding compression gear that probably cost more than my first car, me clutching sale-bin basics.

"Those are going to fall apart in three washes," he said, eyeing my picks.

"Then I'll buy three pairs."

"Or—" He held up the high-end leggings. "—you could get these, which are designed for actual athletes and won't disintegrate mid-training."

"Lucas—"

"It's not about the money." He cut me off gently. "It's about your body deserving equipment that works. You put yourself through hell in training. The least I can do is make sure you have gear that holds up."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist on paying my own way, on maintaining that independence I'd fought so hard for. But looking at his face—earnest and patient and trying so damn hard not to steamroll me—I felt my resistance crack.

"Fine," I said. "But I'm picking the colors."

His whole expression lit up. "Deal."

Twenty minutes later, my arms were full of bags and Lucas looked absurdly pleased with himself. We were heading back toward the parking garage when I spotted it—the mint-green awning, the vintage gold lettering, the window display of artisan gelato in gleaming steel containers.

I stopped walking.

"Katie?" Lucas doubled back. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just—" The words stuck in my throat. "Jack brought me here once. When I was ten. For my birthday."

Understanding softened his features. "Want to go in?"

I did. God, I really did. "Yeah. If you don't mind."

"I never mind when it comes to you."

Inside, the shop smelled exactly like I remembered—vanilla and sugar and something ineffably sweet that made my chest tight. We ordered at the counter, Lucas charming the teenager working the register while I stared at the menu and tried to organize the tangle of memories.

"Classic vanilla?" the girl asked me.

"Yeah. Two scoops."

"Make it three," Lucas said, handing over his card before I could protest. "And dark chocolate for me."

We found a window seat overlooking the plaza. I took my first bite and the taste transported me instantly—ten years old, sitting across from Jack, brain freeze making my eyes water while he laughed and told me to slow down.

"Tell me about it," Lucas said quietly.

I licked my spoon. "Not much to tell. Jack drove four hours each way just so I could have 'real ice cream' for my birthday. I ate it so fast I got a headache. He thought it was hilarious."

"Sounds like him."

"He told me to slow down. To enjoy things instead of rushing through them like they might disappear." I smiled at the memory. "I didn't really understand what he meant at the time."

"And now?"

"Now I get it. He was teaching me that good things don't have to be temporary. That I could trust them to still be there even if I wasn't constantly holding on." I met Lucas's eyes. "He really loved me. Still does. Even when I was this feral little kid who didn't know how to accept kindness."

"He taught you patience," Lucas said. "In his own terrifying way."

I laughed despite myself. "Yeah. The old man's method of teaching patience involved a lot of very painful lessons."

We ate in silence for a moment, and I found myself looking around at the other customers. Families, mostly. Parents with kids, siblings squabbling over flavors, that easy intimacy I'd never had growing up.

"You know what I realized sitting here that day?" I said suddenly. "I realized I was different. I watched all these normal families around us and I just knew—I was never going to have that kind of life. The mom and dad and siblings thing. The Sunday dinners and family vacations. It wasn't in the cards for me."

Lucas's hand covered mine on the table. "You have me now."

The words should have felt presumptuous. Instead, they settled over me like a promise. "I know."

"And for what it's worth—" His thumb stroked over my knuckles. "—I never had that either. The normal family thing. My childhood was bodyguards and tutors and learning to smile for cameras. So maybe we can build our own version. Something that actually works for us."

I turned my hand over, lacing our fingers together. "I'd like that."

His phone buzzed. He glanced at it and smiled. "Ty's asking when we're back. Says the team's falling apart without their fearless coach."

"Tell him I'm busy eating ice cream with my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" He raised an eyebrow. "Is that what I am?"

"What else would you be?"

"I don't know. Your fiancé?" The word hung between us, heavier than it should be. "We did the blood oath and everything."

Heat crept up my neck. "Right. That."

"Having second thoughts?"

"No." The answer came quick and sure. "No second thoughts. Just... still getting used to it."

"Me too." He squeezed my hand. "What about Emily? Ty mentioned she's been asking about you."

"Really?" I pulled out my phone, suddenly guilty. "I haven't talked to her in forever. Not since—"

"Since you disappeared to California and went radio silent for two years?"

"Yeah. That." I scrolled through my contacts, found her name, sent a friend request before I could overthink it. "Ty said she's at Oxford now?"

"Doing her master's in international relations or something. She's been in England for almost two years. Barely comes back to the States."

"Wow." I tried to picture Emily—studious, driven Emily who'd helped me survive AP classes—living across the ocean. "Good for her."

My phone buzzed immediately. Friend request accepted. Then a message popped up.

Hey Katie, long time no see. Can we video chat tonight?

My heart did something complicated. "She wants to video chat."

"You should do it." Lucas finished his ice cream. "She was a good friend to you. You two should reconnect."