Lucy sat on the floor of the changing room, leaning against the long mirror, as her clothes from another bygone era hung neatly on the back of the door. They'd changed history again, though, hopefully not too much. They'd barely stopped Flynn this time, but not before he and his goons handed out a few injuries here and there.
A soft knock at the door brought her thoughts back to the present.
"Lucy?"
He was concerned about her. She knew this. Could hear it in his voice and felt it in the way he'd protected her on this mission.
Or tried to protect her.
She'd wanted to ask him if this was going to be an issue or, worse, a problem. The last thing they needed was an unnecessary distraction during a mission. "Distraction" here meaning they're more focused on each other rather than the job.
But they'd never had the conversation. Therefore, she should've known something would happen.
It wasn't as bad as the time Wyatt got shot, or whenever there was a fight, or even the time Flynn bruised her pretty badly while kidnapping her.
In the grand scheme of things, having a banged up shoulder from shoving Wyatt out of the path of a moving car in the 1940s was a tiny, minor thing. It could've been so much worse.
She could've been killed, as Wyatt so forcefully yelled at her in the aftermath. Rufus also yelled a few things her way. But she knew they were both terrified, especially when she screamed out in pain. Luckily, her shoulder wasn't dislocated, but a nice bruise was already forming. The doctor gave her some pain meds before she even had a chance to change clothes.
Those meds had definitely kicked in as she watched the doorknob turn through her heavy eyelids. Her words were a little more slurred than usual.
"Wyatt, before you say anything –"
He walked closer to where she sat, looming over her.
"Lucy –"
She patted the floor next to her.
"Don't loom. Sit."
He rolled his eyes and huffed before obediently sitting on the cold, thin carpet, matching her position and leaning against the mirror.
Her head was heavy and tired and the meds were only adding to the swirling and spinning. But she had things to say to him. Things that couldn't wait until it was just the two of them in a tiny apartment, sharing a couch, a bathroom, a bed.
No, she needed witnesses.
They'd been sitting for a while when he nudged her knee with his.
"How's the shoulder?"
She shrugged, or tried to at least, then realized that was an involuntary response she'd have to do without for the foreseeable future. Pain shot through her and she winced.
"Ah, ow! Oh, wow, that hurts!" She put up a hand when he turned to attempt to offer help. "But I'm fine! I'm fine!"
He threw her a skeptical glare.
"Uh, no, you're not. Lucy, just let me take you home."
Home? Which home? Her home? His home? Dare she even think what she already wished for?
(Their home?)
She shook her head of that outrageous thought and tried to focus.
"No, Wyatt. We – We've gotta talk. Now. Here."
"About what?"
She waved her hand between them.
"About this. Us. Or, you know, whatever this is." She tried to scoot around to face him. It was slow going with a mucked up shoulder and slightly blurry vision. She crossed her legs and tried to cross her arms, an attempt to show she meant business, but had to settle with holding the elbow of her injured arm. "Wyatt, you nearly got yourself killed today."
Wyatt faced her, again matching her position, crossing his legs and arms.
It was something they did often, subconsciously mirroring each other. Jiya noticed pretty early on and had pointed it out to them a few years later. They, of course, denied it. But everyone knew. As usual.
"Me? You're the one who got hit by a car!"
"I'm fine!"
"You're not fine! You're in pain, Lucy!"
"It's not that bad." She waved him off but winced as she said it, completely invalidating her claim.
Wyatt shook his head and scoffed. He stared at her for a moment, took a deep breath and softened his voice.
"You could've died."
And there it was.
Those few simple words were a dagger to her heart.
"But, I didn't." He dropped his head. She scooted closer beside him. "Wyatt – " She reached for his hand. "I'm still here."
"You know - you promised you weren't going anywhere."
She wasn't sure if he remembered, let alone cared, about that unusual conversation that awkward first night.
Apparently, he did.
She intertwined their fingers. Her head drifted slowly to his shoulder. Her words were getting more slurred by the minute.
"Meant it. Every word."
All she could do was squeeze his hand as her eyes closed.
She woke to the early morning sunlight that filtered through his bedroom window. There was a peace that washed over her in those moments that she'd never fully be able to explain, even to him. Gone were all her anxieties, fears, worries. No thoughts to any part of her crazy life outside that bedroom, that apartment.
Though she didn't make the connection then, she'd later realize he was the reason her anxiety and fears and worries subsided. His mere presence kept all of her nightmares at bay.
Stretching her legs and arms, but remembering her injured shoulder, she rolled her head to look over at him. She froze.
He was staring at her. And smiling that beautiful half-smile that she loved.
"Morning."
How did his sleep-filled voice get sexier with each morning?
She smiled and rested her arms at her sides.
"Morning."
"Sleep well?"
"Very."
To be honest, she didn't remember anything after their conversation in the changing room. She thought they ran into Rufus and Jiya and had another awkward conversation. She thought Wyatt helped her out to his car. She thought he drove them straight home…errr to his home. His apartment. But she could only imagine how they got inside. Did he carry her again?
One of these days, she'd be awake when Wyatt Logan carried her across a threshold.
"How's your shoulder feel this morning?"
She moved it slightly and, while it still felt sore, it wasn't like before.
"Better, actually. Those pain meds really helped."
He grinned and slightly nodded.
"I also put a heating pad on it last night after we got back."
"You –? Oh. Um. Thank you."
She suddenly felt embarrassed. How could this man be so good to her? What had she ever done to deserve this from him?
"Least I could do. You did save me from being run over."
Oh. That.
She gave him a small smile and rotated on her side to face him, her injured shoulder feeling slight relief from being off the bed.
"You're welcome."
And there they were. Two masters of the unspoken. They both knew, but were so terrified to say it. Not yet. Definitely, not yet.
It's a terrifying thing knowing you want to be with someone but not being able to tell them out of fear you'll lose them. Supposedly, that helps with the eventual heartbreak. Or so someone once told her.
"You're not a distraction."
"What?"
"You. You don't distract me."
Was this supposed to be a compliment? Was she blushing?
"Uh – okay…?"
"You mumble in your sleep. Kept repeating over and over, 'I can't be your distraction.'"
Yep, she was blushing. Her cheeks were hot and she tried to avoid his eyes.
"Oh. Yeah. Been meaning to talk to you about that. I just – I don't want this…us…whatever this is…to get in the way of what we do."
He nodded and scooted closer to her. His voice was a whisper.
"You're not a distraction."
She didn't think he fully understood.
"No, I mean. Yes, you say that now, but yesterday, you'd turned and weren't looking and Flynn's guy came out of nowhere and I had to do something. You could've died and then I would've –"
She gasped. Loudly.
He suddenly kissed her hurt shoulder. He lingered there, his hand running up her arm, electric chills following his gentle fingers as they lightly brushed her skin.
"You're not a distraction."
His voice was softer than a whisper and his breath felt warm against her shoulder.
Pain? What pain? Turned out, Wyatt Logan was the best medicine for anything that ailed her.
Her voice was much shakier than she wished it to be.
"Wyatt…I…"
He placed light kisses along her shoulder, neck, and just behind her ear.
She lost all thought. Everything.
He gently rolled her on her back and cupped her face, staring at her with such awe and reverence and…happiness.
"You're not a distraction."
"Then, what am I?"
He smiled that adorable smile that she definitely found adorable.
She held her breath. Waiting.
"You're what I'm fighting for."
The flutter in her stomach and the pang in her chest returned full force. She shivered as the chills spread through her. Her hand ran along his back, his arm, finally resting on his cheek. Her breaths quickened and tears stung her eyes.
For it was at that moment she realized her home wasn't a house in the suburbs, or a doctor's mansion in the hills, or even a pier on the bay.
No, her home wasn't a place. It never was.
It was always with him.
