A/N: BIIIIIIG thank you to the, like, two readers that have hung in there through this two month hiatus! And my sincere apologies. At first, I thought I could blame it on Christmas. Then I thought I could blame it on work. Fact is, it was a blend of those things plus my having some creative conflict about whether to leave things as I had them or segue into a different turn of events. I won't tell what I decided to do, bahaha, but let me just say, I'm thankful for sweet, devoted people, like you must be if you've actually made it all the way through the first book and are here with me now. A lot of my OG readers have long lost interest, so if you're still hanging in there, I thank you sincerely. I promise to take you along on the ride of your life!

Now to answer the question, what DID happen to Stuart…?

/*/*/

"I would break my own heart to protect yours." – Unknown

Lacey's body went stone cold as she heard her mom fumble with her car keys. "I have to get to the hospital. Stay here with the girls and I'll call when I know something."

"Mom, wait." She shot up out of the bed, disregarding how she might have awoken her sisters. "What did they say…? I mean, what's happened?"

"Something about a forklift is all I know."

Lacey could hear her mom's voice tremble for the first time she could remember, and she followed her out into the hallway. "How about I call Yvette and see if she can come sit with the girls, and I go with you? Mom, you need somebody right now."

"I don't have time for all that, I have to get there." Her mom snatched up her coat and scarf, throwing them on. "That man is never careful. Ever. No wonder this happened."

And with that, her mother was out the door. A moment later she heard the Subaru crank, the headlights shining in through the curtains as her mom backed the car out into the street.

Lacey couldn't leave her to handle this on her own, and she had to know what happened to Stuart. So she followed her original instincts and picked up the phone, dialing the number to the Bankses.

Yvette answered sleepily, but very quickly shifted into action when she heard the little that Lacey was able to tell her. "Oh no. Oh, I'm so sorry. I'll be right there, give me enough time to throw on clothes."

Lacey paced for what felt like forever before Yvette pulled up to the curb in her BMW, wearing a sweatshirt, jeans and sneakers, hair wadded up in a rather cute knot on the back of her head.

"So the girls are asleep?" The woman went into Army mode. "What time shall I get them up for school? Will they eat blueberry pancakes? I brought over some blueberries." Yvette pulled out a quart of berries from her overnight bag. "They go to Madison Middle, right?"

Yvette shot the questions so quickly Lacey had trouble keeping up. "Um…yeah, they go to Madison. Just be sure they're ready for the bus at 6:45. They're pretty good at getting up." All while Lacey talked, she worked on winding her scarf around her neck and then grabbed her coat and car keys. "Thank you for feeding them. Please feel free to sleep in one of their beds, or Mom's…"

"Don't even worry about that, Honey," Yvette shooed her out the door.

Lacey drove quickly in the direction of the hospital, mentally cursing. What on earth was happening now? Life seemed to be one big battle after another. Was this standard adulthood? If so, the powers that be could have it back.

/*/*/

Lacey had never seen Stuart in so much pain. He cried out constantly, uttering things in a thick Scottish brogue that neither she nor her mother could understand, all as he kept trying to reach down and grasp the leg that the nurses wouldn't let him touch. And no wonder. When she first entered the room, Lacey felt her stomach gurgle at the sight of his bloody, crushed limb.

Apparently he had been working late in the warehouse to help rush a shipment to a food company when he was involved in the forklift incident. Her mom was far too distraught to explain the situation, but the doctor had received a written statement from a couple of Stuart's coworkers who were on shift when it happened. "Your stepdad was operating a tilt machine when two boxes of lettuce came loose and fell down into the grooves. When he climbed down to put the boxes back in place, he didn't see the forklift coming right for him. A prong struck him behind his left knee, and, well…you saw for yourself the damage that's been done." The doctor waved a hand toward Stuart's mangled leg. Stuart himself was in a drugged up stupor by then.

Lacey tried to digest the information. "So in other words, a forklift driver drove straight into Stuart and crushed his leg."

"I'm afraid so. But the man can't be faulted exactly, because it would have been difficult for him to see that Mr. McBrayer had dismounted his machinery."

Lacey shook her head, forcing herself to push that aside for now to reach the heart of the issue. "So, what can be done?"

"We're still examining the wounds," the doctor patiently replied. "We needed to give time for the pain medication to reach his system before we would attempt to clean the leg and examine it further. It's going to depend on what part of the bone and artery structures were damaged, which will tell us exactly what can be done and whether the leg can be saved."

"Whether the leg can be saved?!" Lacey's eyes filled with angry tears. "Somebody has to be responsible for this! There's no way we can pay for all these tests and treatments if someone's insurance doesn't help."

Her mother just sat staring at Stuart's face as though waiting for him to wake up and smile, telling them that all this had just been a joke.

"I'll say this much," the young doctor leaned in, lowering his voice. "There wasn't one safety vest being worn at that plant, and that's a violation of a federal law that demands otherwise in a warehouse where machinery is used. I'm positive that worker's compensation will be covering as much as you like, just as soon as we file a complaint to the right people. So hold on to that for now. Let's focus first on fixing this good man's leg, okay?"

Lacey sniffled, nodding as she went over to sit next to her mom. "Mom?" She took her hand, continuing hopefully as the man left the room. "I think we've got a good doctor at least. What's his name?"

"Dr. Griffin" her mother answered absently. Then, suddenly snapping to, she peered over at Lacey. "Wait, where are the girls?"

"Yvette's watching over them. They're in good hands."

Foregoing the barbed comments she usually made about Adam's family, Darlene just nodded. "Good."

Lacey went over to Stuart's side and took his hand. "Stuart? Stuart, I'm so sorry."

Stuart's eyelids were heavy and his pupils were darting all over the place as he was doubtlessly under the influence of heavy painkillers. But he heard her. "Lass, dinna ye worry."

"But I'm going to, and you know it," Lacey's eyes welled with tears. "Why weren't you more careful? Didn't you see the forklift coming?"

She didn't mean for the questions to be answered right then, but hoped some part of Stuart's brain was working over the thought of What If? Warehouse accidents like this were rife and the newspapers every day attested to that fact. This could have turned out even worse for him. Of course, there was no way he could have heard or understood anything Dr. Griffin had just said. His leg was crushed. If he didn't lose it, he'd certainly not be able to walk on it again, or at least not as he once had. What kind of work would he do, then? What would he do about the stairs in their townhouse?

What would any of them do about anything?

Lacey was predictably smitten down by dizzying anxiety that rendered her unable to stand. Her hands supported her head as she rested against the bed rails. No one spoke for a while.

Then, desperately in need of something to do, she stood. "I'm going to call Yvette. She'll have to tell the girls something in the morning."

"Lacey, don't you dare." Her mom sat up straight. "I can call them myself in the morning and explain."

"Mom, what's with you? What's, like, ever with you and the Bankses?" Lacey snapped. "You and Stuart might be with the doctor when they wake up. Or you could, God forbid, actually be asleep. And I was going to try to go to classes. Why don't you trust Yvette, after all this time, with the twins? Do you think she doesn't have common sense, that she's not a mom herself? She is capable and willing to handle this for you! Why can't you just be grateful for somebody's help?!"

But the look on her mom's face betrayed the fact that she'd gone a little too far. She hadn't meant to come across so harshly. Clearly, Stuart's work accident had taken its toll on her nerves, too. So she softened her tone and tried again. "I-I'm sorry, I'm just…I don't know, Mom. I don't know why you won't accept help and it frustrates me sometimes because it only makes more work on you. Why don't we let Yvette talk to them in the morning, but promise them you'll call them as soon as you have a chance?"

Drugged as he already was, Stuart slowly held a thumbs up from the bed, giving Mom no other excuse to be so stubborn.

Though Lacey suspected it had been her own snippy attitude that had rendered her mom quiet. She could count on only one hand the number of times she'd come out and given her mom an all-guns-blazing lecture. But she felt this was warranted. What did it actually matter who told the girls about Stuart as long as it was someone caring and able to handle the emotional fallout that might result from it?

Finally her mom shook her head. "Alright then. Whatever." She placed her first two fingers to her forehead, closing her eyes.

"And please, Mom, go to sleep. They've offered you one of those chairs that leans back, and I'll go out to the lobby. Let people take care of you." This, Lacey said more gently.

Bracing herself for another argument, Lacey was surprised to find her mom nodding. "Alright. Just have them bring it before I change my mind."

Lacey did all she could to make sure her mom was as comfortable as possible, asking for as many pillows and blankets as could be secured in a busy emergency room. Then she took one herself and headed back out to the lobby, calling Yvette to recount to her the details of the accident that she felt the girls could be told. She then curled onto a tiny vinyl couch, trying not to think about all the germs writhing around under her, and rested her head on the pillow after making a cocoon out of the blanket. What she wanted most was to call Adam at school and cry on the phone to him about the whole thing, but there were times in life, she was discovering, when simply having someone to love didn't necessarily make everything better. So you had to spare everyone's sanity and pick and choose the times you were going to make your problems theirs too. And besides, Adam had playoffs to gear up for-his first as a college freshman so was doubtlessly feeling he had something to prove. This could wait.

Blessedly, Lacey fell into a comfortable sleep pretty quickly–cold waiting room, nonstop intercom voices, and ringing phones notwithstanding.

Lacey came home to change clothes briefly before her Western Civilization class, and was pleased to see that Yvette had done all she'd promised. Not that she'd had doubts.

Halen sat at the kitchen table over the promised blueberry pancakes, sniffling as she held the cordless phone, talking to Stuart. "I know. I know, Daddy. I won't, I promise. Can we come after school?" She sniffled again. "Okay."

Yvette, meanwhile, had reached a hand over to stroke through the girl's hair.

"It's going to be okay, Halen," Ariel replied as her sister hung up the phone. "At least he's alive. And he might not lose his leg." Ariel was being perfectly pragmatic, even if she was barely touching her food. "I've been praying."

"Oh, you and your stupid praying!" Halen jabbed her fork into a large portion of pancake, stuffing it into her mouth.

"Don't take such a big bite, Hon. You could choke," Yvette kindly reminded her, nudging the nearby glass of milk closer.

Lacey wished with all her heart she could just skip class and spend time comforting the girls. But mid-term exams were coming up soon, and she couldn't miss any more classes. She'd already splurged and missed one yesterday while coming back from seeing Adam.

Yvette motioned for Lacey to follow her. The two of them slipped around the corner, and Yvette whispered, "Do they have any absences from school yet?"

Lacey thought for a moment. "None that I know of."

"Would it hurt to keep them out for today? Would your mom mind? Ariel has done a pretty good job of shoring it up, but she took her own turn of being upset earlier. I was thinking maybe a girls' day might do them both some good. I could take them to get pedicures, stuff like that…" Yvette trailed off. "...but slip me about five dollars. That way you can convince your mom that I didn't do anything for free," she winked.

"I think that would actually be a good idea. I hate the idea of them seeing Stuart's leg the way it is. They'll need some nurturing under their belt. And you really don't mind?" Lacey reached into her bag to take out some money.

"Not a bit. I never had little girls to pamper," Yvette replied cheerfully and turned to go back into the dining room after she was handed a bill, but paused. "Oh, and I'm so sorry you and Adam had to spend Valentine's Day apart. Did you at least get to talk on the phone?"

It was all Lacey could do to keep a straight face, but she nodded. "We got to talk. It was all good."

"Wonderful." Yvette squeezed her arm, then went to break the news to the twins that they'd be skipping school that day. Needless to say, the news was met with cheers Lacey could hear all the way upstairs.

If only her mom could see that their lives had been thoroughly enriched by the presence of all the other people her liaison with Adam had produced. Their family was no longer an island all alone. There was support, and there was help. And for that, Lacey was so very grateful.

Unfortunately, the damage done to Stuart's leg was far too great, and his limb was unsalvageable. An amputation below the knee was the only sensible option. Thankfully, worker's compensation paid a generous amount, and Phil encouraged Stuart in his standard discreet manner to sue the warehouse he worked for, DeVries Shipping. .

"It's not to get rich off these people," he counseled quietly, showing up to speak to Stuart when Darlene was, conveniently, at work. Lacey was sitting in a chair reading a book, and was startled when the man had come into the hospital room. "It's to help pay for your accommodations as a disabled person."

Stuart scratched behind his ear. "It all soonds fine 'n good, Mr. Banks, bu' I wouldna e'en know whurr t'find a decent loowyer."

"I have some recommendations for you." Mr. Banks opened his briefcase and presented Stuart with a neatly typed list of names and numbers. "And I'm happy to help with anything you need."

It was a brief gesture of goodwill, but it warmed Lacey from head to toe, and she found herself wanting to run after the man and give him a bear hug. She was dating Adam, true, but they weren't married or engaged. The Bankses owed them nothing, yet had shown so much support during a very trying time .

After Stuart's surgery, he had to get used to walking with an artificial limb, which proved to be the hardest part.. Lacey couldn't count the number of times he turned too quickly to pick up something in the kitchen and fell onto the ground. It hurt his pride, even though he tried to laugh it off in standard Stuart fashion. But after a while, the handicap wore on him. He was no longer their smiling, joking, dancing Stuart, reminding everybody else to be positive as he flipped pancakes, turned on Seinfeld, or made them laugh in the car. He became a man fighting just to survive, to learn a new way of life. It didn't help that he was no longer able to work. He would sit on the couch an entire day and stare at the TV, waiting until it was almost too late to drag his way awkwardly up the stairs to make it to the bathroom.

"It's nae use, Lass, I canna get there quick 'nough," Stuart had bemoaned angrily when he had waited so long to go upstairs to use the bathroom that he had wet his pants. "I canna get this thing t'move like it ought."

He was practically in tears as Lacey helped him to the bathroom and rifled through his drawers to find a fresh pair of underwear and a pair of jeans to give to him. "Stuart, it's okay. We just need a bathroom downstairs. What if we got you one of those little plastic urinals that–"

"Och, don't!" Stuart commanded in a sharp voice ."I wilna 'ave it. I'd die first. Am I t'lose all functionin'?"

So Lacey didn't mention it again until she was on the phone with Adam one night.

"Lacey, there are other rental properties my dad has that are on one level. Why don't I see if he can work something out for you?"

Lacey sighed, lying back on her bed. "Adam, it's hard. Because the biggest part of me wants to say 'Yes! Please! Do it!' But my parents are just so damn proud. Your mom's helped out with the girls, your dad's provided some legal counsel, and i just…don't know how well they'd handle your dad coming around and offering to help them again."

Adam was quiet for a moment. "I know. I'm familiar enough with your family now to see how it works, but Lacey…don't take this the wrong way, but it's silly. If people need help, why won't they just accept it when it's offered? I mean…" he sighed. "Okay, so it's like this. In the old days when there were earls and marquesses and all that, it was considered a duty that they use their wealth to help take care of the people who worked for them. And I know we don't live back then, my parents aren't royalty, and you guys don't work for us. But my point is, why shouldn't we use our privilege to help someone who needs it? Why do lower income people fight that all the time?"

He sounded somewhat defensive, and she felt likewise.

"Okay. So I get it, I mean that's a good example. I see what you're saying, but why don't you try to see it from our point of view? What if my family had to come along and bail yours out all the time? Wouldn't that be embarrassing? Wouldn't you have a little pride to defend?"

But despite Adam saying he understood her position, he still turned around and discussed Stuart's situation with his dad. And Lacey admittedly was glad he did, even if they did see their positions in society in different ways.

This was about Stuart, not pride.

Phil Banks furnished them with a nicer, spacier, one-level townhome that might have cost at least a hundred more dollars a month to rent, but he kept their rent rate locked in from their previous home. And this time, surprisingly, even her mother didn't protest. But she did have some limits.

"We'll hire movers ourselves," she quickly informed Phil the day he came to talk over the matter with them. "Thank you for…for this," Lacey heard her stammer from where she stood eavesdropping in the hall. "If there needs to be an adjustment in rent or monthly fees later on, just let us know."

Then, something surprising happened.

"How about some chicken casserole? Just got it out of the oven. Since Stuart's accident, I'm having to actually learn to cook," her mom remarked dryly.

Lacey had to hold her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud, particularly at Phil's pause. "Oh, I…no, thank you. Yvette and I have just eaten. But I very much appreciate it…"

Lacey then heard paper rustling, and she peeped around the corner to see Darlene thrust an index card into Phil's hand. "Tell Yvette that's a recipe for my sister Rachel's lemon cake. Never made it in my life, but I'm pretty sure she can do it justice."

Phil looked from Darlene to the paper in his hand, then back up. "Erm…thank you, I'll pass it along." He nodded before he turned to go.

Afterward, Lacey came around the corner, smiling. "Aunt Rachel's lemon cake, for Yvette? And whoa…chicken casserole?"

"Phil's not a bad man, Lacey," her mom quipped. "Never have thought that."

Oh yes you did, Lacey wanted to correct, but decided not to.

And so it was that between the movers, Mom, and all three daughters, and with Stuart's direction, the furniture was transferred from the home Lacey had grown up in to a pretty little cottage about two streets closer into Edina. It was certainly worth a whole lot more than Phil was charging for it, but it filled Lacey with pride that her family finally had the opportunity to experience something nice–even if it had come at a terrible price.

After the move, Spring Break came around, and Lacey flew to La Guardia versus suffering AmTrak. Once she arrived in New York, she was promptly lifted into her boyfriend's arms, now even more muscular than they had been previously. He presented her with a bouquet of yellow roses and sunflowers, and she beamed as she took them.

Then the fun commenced.

He'd had quite the job, planning out various things to do to celebrate both her nineteenth birthday and their first anniversary. They of course went to see Cats with their Christmas tickets from his parents, and he took her to the standard New York places like Union Square (she'd never seen so many dazzling lights and billboards) and Central Park, and they spent almost an entire day strolling through Brooklyn Botanic Garden. But he also saved a few quirky, off-the-beaten-path sights for her. They spent hours riding the subway one evening as he pointed out to her the abandoned subway stations that were no longer in use, some of them quite old, as they whirred past.

On the night he'd designated to commemorate her birthday, he took her to the New York Catacombs by Candlelight, which turned out to be quite a beautiful sight as opposed to the creepiness Lacey was anticipating. It was in the glistening candlelight that Adam had her open her present from him. The moment she opened the gold box, her breath was taken straight out of her chest. It was a jeweled hair comb, clusters of emeralds arranged to give it an elegant and somewhat vintage feel.

"I know it's a little old-fashioned," he leaned in close to her. "But I thought it would look beautiful in your hair, and you told me your dress for Spring Formal was green."

Adam's Spring Formal.

Oh god.

No, she did not completely forget her dress, hanging in a garment bag in her new closet.

Only, yes she did.

Adam apparently saw her face fall. "I'm…I'm sorry. I can take it back if you don't want to wear it…"

"No, it's not…" Lacey shook her head, so mad at herself she wanted to spit. "Adam, I've left my dress," she finally blurted out.

"You left your dress?" he repeated slowly, not yet comprehending.

"I did. With the move and everything, I must have completely spaced when packing." Lacey threw her head back and groaned. "What was I thinking? And now what?"

"Hey, it's okay," he clasped his hands over hers gently, likely to keep her from dropping the hair comb which probably contained actual emeralds, not crystals. "We'll go get a dress. Anniversary present, right?" He chuckled.

And so with that, she and Adam spent the rest of the evening in and out of boutiques. She really didn't like not being able to actually surprise him with a dress, as in this situation, he was helping her pick something out himself. But after it was all said and done, the experience was somewhat sweet.

They together selected a very classic, off-the-shoulder satin A-line gown. Thankfully it still matched the vest Adam had previously purchased based on pictures of her original dress. Looked like she'd be taking that one back to the shop when she got home to Minneapolis. A total waste, but otherwise, things were shaping up A-okay for a good evening at the formal.

/*/*/

Lacey was admiring the way the emeralds glinted in the bathroom lights, matching the shade of her dress just perfectly. It was a gorgeous ensemble, far better even than what she had planned out originally. Time to show Adam.

But when she turned the corner into the living area, she stopped short.

Adam was sitting at his computer, perfectly still, head back and hands in his hair.

"What is it? And why are you on the computer right now? It's almost time for us to go," she remarked, a little bugged.

"I wasn't one of them."

"You weren't one of who?" Lacey came over and knelt beside him, reading the screen for herself, upon which an email from his coach stared back, informing Adam unceremoniously that three other players had been selected for entry-level contracts for three NHL teams.

So that's what this was about.

"Adam, it's okay, I mean I know you wanted to be considered by now." She reached up to smooth out his hair. "But maybe there's a better opportunity for you down the road. We've talked about this. You're just a freshman, you don't need to stress out."

"I don't need to stress out?" Adam sat up straighter. "Coach says I still need 'tweaking', whatever that means. Does the guy not see I'm giving my guts out on the ice? Dammit, it's this shoulder injury." Adam pushed back from the computer desk and got up, pacing. It was a rare thing for Lacey to see him so rattled.

She didn't quite know what to say, watching him try to walk it off. And honestly, she couldn't relate. Aside from her family, nothing–including, as much as she loved it, the Cat's Cradle–held so much weight in her life that the loss of it would devastate a dream. Was it because she still hadn't discovered hers as Adam had?

Was what Adam was feeling normal? Or was it not? She knew one thing–it wasn't cool for him to waste time checking his email right before they were to leave to go to Spring Formal. There was a time and place for things.

"Adam," she tried again channeling Dr. Hemby as best she could. "I know, it's upsetting, and I am really sorry. I mean, I get that it's a big deal to you. What can I do to help?"

He continued to pace, finally clasping his hands behind his neck, facing away from her. "...I'm sorry. We should go. The whole night doesn't need to be ruined because of this."

Uh, no it doesn't, Lacey nearly shot back. But instead she just stood, brushed off her dress, and came over to give him a quick kiss. "We don't have to stay the whole night if you don't feel like it. We can go get cupcakes at that fantastic place across the street and bring them back to play Zelda."

"I can't have cupcakes, Lacey," Adam replied with a hint of irritation in his voice. "The whole gluten thing…?"

"Oh. That's right. Okay, well, just whatever you want then." Lacey forced a smile and took his arm, preparing for the journey to Stern, the building in which the dance was to be held. This would require a fair amount of walking–she hoped her fancy shoes would hold up–and connecting with subway routes. She couldn't believe the size of this campus, if one could call it that. It felt more like a sprawling village. And she especially couldn't believe how good Adam had become at navigating it.

The pathway to Stern after they disembarked at the final subway stop was beautifully lit with lanterns to commemorate the evening. It might have been romantic had the "romance" not been dispelled some time earlier with the coach's email. What she'd give to strangle the man right now, whoever he was.

Lacey had always loved Adam playing hockey. He was fully alive and himself when he was out on the ice. So, why was it suddenly changing? Now when he talked about the sport he loved so dearly, he sounded desperate. Greedy for something Lacey wasn't sure he could possibly find in a game. She knew he wanted to go pro, but what if he just couldn't? And if he did, would it be enough for him?

Lacey took a long breath as they made their way silently through the breezy night air toward the building. Adam continued to glance down every so often, as though he was still processing the news he'd received. But after a few minutes he straightened and looked over at her.

"You're beautiful tonight. I don't think I told you, but you are. And if you want cupcakes, we'll get them, all right? I didn't mean to be…like that…"

She smiled warmly, trying to shake the monkey off her own back. "I want one red velvet, one death by chocolate, and one sprinkle delight."

Adam laughed, putting an arm around her and squeezing her to him. "You'll be so sick you'll barf a rainbow in my toilet."

And just like that, something was restored to them. All felt well with the world.

The atmosphere in Stern was magical, even though the theme that had been picked for the Formal was moon and stars, which was by no means original. The people who had planned and decorated, however, had truly gone to amazing lengths. The auditorium ceiling actually looked like a sky full of stars. And a giant golden moon, lights shining from within, hung down in one corner.

She and Adam moved along slowly to the music, foreheads touching. How she wanted to squeeze the tension right out of his shoulders and kiss the traces of worry off his forehead, But she knew that, for as magical as love was, it wasn't so magical as that. He held to her the way he always did, and she could feel the enormous affection radiating from his body. He had been upset by the news he'd just received, but she knew it didn't have anything to do with his love for her. They were, and would always be, rock solid.

Yet something nagged at the back of Lacey's mind during the intro chords of Sixpence None the Richer's "Kiss Me", and afterward when they went to Martin's for cupcakes, and back in his bed as she lazily watched him beat the beyond difficult Water Temple on Zelda.

But Lacey was a bit distracted. It was Julie's voice she kept thinking about as the usually unflappable girl had sniffled over the phone to her last week.

"Julie, it can't be over," Lacey had tried to console. "You and Scooter have been together for a long time. I mean, maybe he just needs a break."

"I don't think so, Lacey," Julie hiccuped. "I know I loved him. But sometimes that just isn't enough, and you grow apart. Different things happen, I mean…this is college, not high school anymore."

"She's right," Kristy had gently commented as Lacey rehashed the conversation she'd had with their friend regarding the breakup of the long-time sweethearts. "I mean, I'm not even in college yet, and Les isn't either, but…I think we may have run our course, too. We're supposed to talk Friday night, and something tells me it's going to be a heavy conversation" Her best friend had sighed wistfully. "It's like, what you think you want changes over time."

But not her and Adam, Lacey resolved stubbornly, shoving the troubling thoughts from her mind. Not ever. And with that, she pulled the video game control from Adam's hands, flipped off the console, and prepared to make voracious love to him in an effort to stop all time.

Over the next couple months, Stuart began to get a little more used to his prosthetic. Lacey and her mom ensured it by walking with him back and forth throughout the house to help him get adjusted, and it didn't take long for his fighter spirit to kick in and fill him with hope and purpose once again. He quickly managed to receive disability pay, but opted not to sit around the house and do nothing. He wanted to continue giving his guitar lessons, and "Maybe start me own business." He didn't know yet exactly what he wanted to do, but the fact that he was setting goals again made Lacey happy.

The twins turned fourteen with a big party with both of their sets of friends, made possible by the larger townhome. Their spirits had lifted considerably and they'd been distracted from their dad's injury by the excitement of finally having their own rooms. Ariel had decorated her space in dark purples and blacks, plastering pictures she'd drawn all over the walls. Halen stuck with pinks and lavenders, using the space on her bookcase to collect plastic tiaras (naturally) and butterflies. Sometimes Lacey wondered if Halen had emerged straight from a Barbie dream house at birth. But her sister continued to put on weight throughout the summer. It seemed to bother the girl every time she tried to put on clothes that were too small, but she continued to pack in food.

"I was actually pretty one time, remember?" Halen grumbled one day to Lacey. "But now I bet nobody thinks so, and I have to start high school like this."

"Halen, it's not that bad," Lacey reassured her sister, sitting cross-legged on her pink ruffled confection of a bed. "And it's nothing you can't work off. Want to come running one morning with me and Adam?"

This was quite the sacrificial offer, as Lacey had seen precious little of Adam during the summer so far. Certainly a lot less than she'd expected to. But he was dead set on training and strengthening his shoulder for the next hockey season, and there were times she wondered if he missed time with her at all. Sure, he always welcomed her and even asked her to accompany him running or to hit the gym, but he still seemed preoccupied.

But, if it would help Halen, she would let her little sister infringe on her time with her boyfriend. Halen, however, promptly turned her down. "I don't think I can run."

"Well, sure, it's hard at first, Halen, but you get used to it," Lacey rebutted ."Or just start out walking. That burns calories, too. Want to hit the rink with us too sometime?"

Halen seemed the most interested in the prospect of skating, but still always came up with some excuse not to go skating when Lacey offered. Her sister would just have to figure this exercise thing on her own.

Meanwhile, Lacey had her own issues to figure out. Adam's preoccupation with becoming the best hockey player at NYU was beginning to take over more and more of his concentration. Though occasionally he would ask Lacey over or come to her house, or ask her on a date, almost as though he'd emerged from a great fog and recalled how much he missed her company.

Finally, Lacey felt ready and inclined to lay out her feelings about Adam's obsession. He sat rubbing his shoulder, which he'd re-injured from lifting too much weight at the gym, as they sat at an upscale Edina seafood restaurant one night. Taking a deep breath, she laid down her fork and napkin and got eye level with Adam. He stared back at her, seeming to anticipate what she was going to say.

"Babe," she began. "Don't you think you're getting a little too hardcore with the hockey? I mean I know I've said it before, but you're just going into your sophomore year and you're acting like if you're not recruited by somebody after every game, your whole life is for nothing. I mean…" Lacey backtracked. "Sorry, that was a bit of exaggeration, but do you see how badly you're hurting yourself for it? Your RA flair got so bad last week you could barely move. But you still ran bleachers. I guess I just wonder…when's it going to be enough?"

Fully expecting a defensive response, Lacey sat back in her chair. But Adam just stared at his plate for a moment.

"Lacey, hockey's just…all I've ever wanted. I don't even know how to want anything else this much."

"Yeah, I get that. But Adam, it's almost like you want it to an unhealthy degree. Do you understand?"

He lifted his eyes, but didn't quite look at her, shifting them off to the side. "Well, you know how I am. When I want something, I want it. I've been stubborn all my life."

"I know," she smiled. "And it's adorable most of the time, but there are new circumstances physically for you since you started playing hockey, and…don't you think you should continue to find other things to be passionate about, just as a backup? What do you plan to do with your political science degree?"

"Ah hell, I don't know," he chuckled, turning once again to his salad. "It was Dad's idea because I couldn't think up anything else. But when I try to think of what I'll really do with it, I don't have the first idea of anything I'd want to do."

"Please promise me you'll go easier on yourself," Lacey went straight for the punch. "I can't just sit and watch you tear your body up this way."

Adam's eyes flitted over to meet hers again. "I'm trying, Lacey. I'm really trying to take care of myself. Can you trust me here?"

No, Lacey wanted to say. Instead, she sipped on her Sprite. "I want to. I'll try harder, okay? That's all I can give."

He reached across the table and took her hand. "I know I get a little too focused. And I'm sorry. I haven't meant to ignore you this summer, either. I guess I just started feeling pretty sideways about not garnering any interest last season, and it just went from there."

Lacey smiled. "I know. And I love how driven you are. I just don't want it to cost you dearly."

After dinner, it felt almost like old times. They went back to the guest apartment and watched multiple episodes of Outer Limits, which was cheesy, bad TV, but it gave them the chance to laugh plenty. Best yet, Adam kept his arms around her all night.

"Where do you want to be in ten years?" he murmured unexpectedly as the was falling asleep.

Lacey thought for a minute, not quite as scared of the question as she once had been. "Well…I think I would like to be married with at least one baby, but still going to work and making a difference in peoples' lives, I'll have a nice house in San Francisco, and I'll foster cats. There you go."

"Do you know the cost of living out there?" Adam needled her.

"Yeah, well I'm going to marry a rich man." Then she daringly added, "Maybe even an NHL player. Would that earn enough for me to shop for a new Louis Vuitton bag every month?"

He turned to her and smiled, eyes shining in the dark. "You can shop for whatever you want, if…if you'll have me."

Lacey bit her lip. They were definitely too young to discuss marriage and a future together, but at the same time, it felt right. Could it be any other way? They were very much in love, even if this draft obsession of Adam's was causing a slight hiccup in their relationship. He was still her pick for a forever.

To distract from the serious climax the conversation was leading to, Lacey impulsively turned and began tickling Adam furiously.

"Hey! What are you doing?! I was going to sleep!" he laughed, writhing away before launching himself at her anew to return the favor.

"Okay, okay stop! Let's both stop!" Lacey finally squealed through giggles, mindful momentarily of his parents hearing them from below the loft's floorboards.

"You started it!"

Pretty soon they were both breathless, but then hungry for another kind of physical contact as Adam stole what little breath she had left with heated kisses.

And with that, all talking was over.

Adam's skate blades sliced through the ice deftly, the substance slushy now from a hard scrimmage. He focused hard on the distance to the goal, the movement of his stick, and the puck in front of him as he effortlessly faked out Goldberg and, moving to the left just as the husky goalie moved to the right, shot the puck into the net.

"Gaaah!" Goldberg collapsed onto the ice in frustration. "Why don't you let me block you just once, Dude?"

"No kidding," Fulton slid to a stop in front of them, pulling off his helmet. "You whipped the hell out of us three times in a row, Banks. And what's with all the aggression? You and your girl having problems?" he jested.

"College hockey," Adam shrugged. "It's pretty physical, and I guess I got used to that. You okay, Fulton? Did you break a nail after that last check?"

His buddy smirked, wringing wet with sweat. "How about let's call it a day?"

One of the best parts of the summer was the fact that a lot of the Ducks were home from college like he was, and they took full advantage of the time to scrimmage at their old rink. He missed Jesse, of course, and the others who went back to their home states during summer breaks. He knew Julie still talked to Lacey regularly on the phone, Luis was going to a community college, and Dwayne was… Dwayne. Probably still helping on his family's farm. Portman was, as promised, going to rookie school out in Chicago, and Kenny had made it into a pretty illustrious university. Russ had gotten a job helping at an urban center for street kids, which was pretty cool. And Adam didn't talk about it, but it made him a little sad to not be sure when he'd ever see them again.

That left only originals: himself, Charlie, Fulton, Guy, Connie, Averman, and Goldberg. Guy's older brother had been nice and interested enough to come out and serve as a second goalie, which left three on three. Better than nothing.

"I wouldn't worry about the draft, Adam," Connie spoke as they all pulled their helmets off and pushed sweaty hair off their foreheads. "You've got it. That was the toughest game I've played in awhile."

Connie and Guy, the longtime sweethearts, and Charlie were the only ones who had opted to continue playing hockey in college. That kept their skill sharp enough to provide Adam with some fair competition. But even though he enjoyed these scrimmages, he knew that, as their group was getting smaller and smaller and he was getting used to playing tougher hockey with the Violets, he was leaving the Ducks behind. It was time for all of them.

As Adam was slipping his skate guards on in preparation to hit the shower Charlie came up beside him and spoke quietly. "They say Shipley's out now, you know. He served out his fifteen months. Those other goons have been out for awhile, but I figure Shipley's the one you want to look out for. Something tells me he's smart enough not to come anywhere near you, but it's good for you to just be aware."

"Uh, yeah," Adam tried to keep a neutral voice. "Thanks for telling me, Charlie."

Adam felt heat hit his ears. He wasn't concerned about Max being out of jail because he might try something else dumb. It was more that, every time the guy's name was mentioned, he wanted to find him and cream him for the damage he'd done to his shoulder. It was the biggest thing Adam felt was holding back his game, which was exactly what Shipley had intended.

There were moments when Adam was half asleep that he wondered in the quiet of the night what he would have done differently to have kept this from happening. The only thing that came to mind and had actually caused it all was his friendship with Lacey. Would he, for the sake of his hockey career, have backed off from her until after the hockey season was over, knowing something like this could happen if he made enemies with Shipley?

No. He loved Lacey like he'd never loved another human being before, and he wasn't sorry for having gotten to know her when he did. Even if it had caused Max Shipley to blow a gasket.

Okay, but, what if I could have had both? I could have kept my friendship with Lacey under wraps for awhile and taken it a little easier on Shipley on the ice. After all, he went on to reason, he had kind of provoked the situation, waving it right under the guy's nose.

Thoughts of regret and conflict about his past actions, though, caused nothing but torment, so Adam tried to bottle them and put them away. Life was what it was, and it only meant he would have to work twice as hard to be recruited into pro.

But unfortunately, the dream he poured every bit of himself into was something Lacey didn't seem to understand. And it frustrated him. He was a hockey player, and if you were going to date an athlete, you accepted the fact that they were going to work hard and "play" less. She'd never really fussed about that in high school, but now it was like she resented it. And why? Was it because he couldn't spend as much time with her? Which was senseless, because Adam knew already, at only twenty, that he was going to marry this girl one day. He hadn't really talked to her about it yet, even though they'd broached the topic vaguely the other night at his house. But they were young and he wanted to wait a bit before ushering in a topic that serious.

He'd been lucky enough to find Lacey, and now he wouldn't let her go. But if he could only make her see that–if that's what she was so concerned about, not having as much time to be together–then she'd see that they really had all the time in the world. It would just be later, after he made this one dream come true.

However, despite Adam's suspicions that that was what her disgruntlement was really about, she kept insisting she was worried about his health and the effect intense training was having on his body. That's what really irritated him. Lacey, not being an athlete, had no idea how hard he had to work to claim his spot on an illustrious team. He knew what he was doing, and he wanted her to frankly leave him alone about it. The more pressure he put on his body, he reasoned, the more pressure it would learn to handle. That was the whole point of training. And he had to do this, to reach this goal at all cost…

Because why?

Sometimes at night, after a particularly grueling round of exercises that evening, Adam would be jarred awake by that question.

He loved hockey, he answered himself.

But why?

Because the game was in his blood.

But why can't you play it for fun, or join the minors, and stop straining yourself to be on a team worthy of the Stanley Cup?

Because.

It was at this point in his conversation with himself that Adam usually got up to grab a glass of water to wet his suddenly dry mouth.

Then, and only occasionally, he would let his reply float to the surface:

Because hockey was all he had. He was the quiet, unimpressive second son of Phil and Yvette Banks. Hockey was the only thing that made him stand out, that seemed to cause his father to be so proud of him. And Grandpa Greg, too. So he had to do it, to take it to the limit. His family was counting on him to be something. And the only thing he thought he could ever be was a force to be reckoned with on the ice.

Wasn't it the perfect thing to hide behind?

This summer flew by just as quickly as last summer had, though it was far less exciting. Following a much quieter twentieth birthday, which included his Grandpa Greg showing up to surprise him this time, Travis baking a cake and Lacey gifting him with a leather bound set of J.R.R. Tolkein books, Adam found himself packing to head back to NYU. He realized he was dreading it, but didn't know why.

"Is this how you want your shirts folded?" Lacey interrupted his brooding to hand him a blue and green striped button-up.

"Close enough," he smirked, nudging her as he passed to go grab his shaving bag.

"You are impossible about your clothes," she sighed good-naturedly, plopping down beside his suitcase on the bed, taking a break.

"Oh, hey." Adam went over to his nightstand and pulled something out he'd nearly forgotten to give her. He hoped she would be excited about it. "So, I know you have your own money now…but you're saving it for college and investing it. Therefore, I still get to buy you things." He came over, handing her an envelope.

"Only some things," she winked, taking it and unopening it. Inside was a plane ticket to visit him in January on a specific date he knew he had a big Violets game according to the schedule.

"Adam!" Lacey beamed, standing up to wrap her arms around him and give him a light kiss on the lips. "I get to come see you again! What are we going to do? Walk through Greenwich Village? Modern art museum? I'm gonna start planning! You know I fell in love with New York."

"Well," he took a deep breath, then returned her smile. "If we have time for one of those things, sure. But this is actually a ticket for you to come watch me play one night. It's a game against the Johnson & Wales Wildcats. You should see these guys, they're the best of the best in New England."

He observed the way Lacey's face slightly fell. "Oh!" she replied with forced enthusiasm. "Well, sure, I mean, I do miss seeing you play. So, they're a big rival?"

"The biggest," Adam slowly rubbed her arms, upon which he felt goosebumps for some reason. Maybe he kept the room too cold.

"Let me ask something I've always been interested in," Lacey began, and Adam tensed, abandoning the movement of his hands on her arms. "What do you do to keep your energy up to play these teams? I mean, it sounds like they're all pretty hardcore."

He stared at her, searching her face. "I don't do pills, Lacey, if that's what you're worried about. Some of the guys do steroids, but–"

"No no!," she interrupted. "I wasn't thinking you did. I just…I don't know, it looks so hard. You've skated miles by the end of a game."

"Well, I pack in lots of protein beforehand, drink a lot of Gatorade, and sometimes I'll knock back a Josta. Just occasionally," he added quickly.

"Jostas!" Lacey laughed. "I'm surprised. I mean, they're chock-full of sugar, and I know how you feel about sweets."

"Yeah, I know, that's why I keep it to a minimum. But sometimes I'll drink a couple before a game I know is gonna be tough."

"I've heard they can be dangerous, Adam. Be careful. Your heart rate's already up when you're out on the ice. You don't want to give yourself a heart attack. I don't know if they'd let me out onto the ice to lug you to the hospital," she weakly attempted humor, though Adam could see right through it, and suddenly felt angry. There she went again, picking apart the things he did with his body. He wanted to remain calm, but months of frustration caught up with him and he narrowed his eyes.

"What's all this about, Lacey?"

"What's what about? Adam, I want you to take care of yourself–"

"I am taking care of myself. I know you don't understand what goes into being a high-level athlete, but I asked you to trust me, and for some reason you seem to have a lot of trouble with that." Adam took a deep breath. He'd never spoken so sharply to his girlfriend before, and part of him regretted it.

Lacey's big brown eyes hardened. "It's one thing to tell me to trust you, Adam, but another thing to tell me that and then turn around and continue to do harmful things to yourself."

Adam took a step back, away from the zone of intimacy and into the zone of confrontation. "How many times do I have to tell you? I've got to work myself hard to get where I want to go. And I'm being as careful as I can be, but I know my body and how much I can handle. When it comes to this, I wish…y-you…" he stammered.

"You wish what?" she challenged.

"I wish you'd just back off."

Lacey stared in disbelief.

"And if this is really about something other than me taking care of myself–I mean if you have other resentments, like how we didn't spend as much time together this summer as last– you just need to say so. I can't mindread, and I don't always know where you're coming from." He kept a steady tone, but it wasn't easy. Adam was entering a place with Lacey that he'd never been before, and he didn't like going. She had always been his safe place. But in this moment, all that safety wasn't present.

Lacey glared at him. "Adam, no. It's not about the time we spend together, or…lack thereof, or whatever. Don't you know me by now enough to know I would say it if that's what this was about? I always tell you what I think. But you know, you're right. I do need to back off. And if that means you end up in the hospital with exhaustion or so crippled from pushing yourself that you can't even move…then whatever. That's on you."

That stung.

"Okay, let's…let's not fight," he found himself saying. "I'm sorry. If you don't want to come to the game, you don't have to. I only want you to come if you want to be there, and the way it's sounding…" he trailed off, wanting nothing more than to take the ticket envelope out of her hand and toss it back into the drawer.

Lacey sighed. "Adam, of course I want to be there. Listen, let's not talk about hockey anymore right now. I think we're both just tired."

Adam wasn't exactly sure where that remark came from, because he certainly wasn't tired. But whatever.

"Yeah, let's just start over. Um…" he eyed the plane ticket she still held. "You can just put that wherever you want, and let's keep packing. Want to refold my boxers next?," he asked with attempted humor.

She cracked a smile. "No thank you, Sir. I shall get to work on your white undershirts. Oh, and you left one unwashed for me, right? So I can smell you on my pillow at night?"

And just like that, the intimacy was back. This was how Adam always wanted it to be with Lacey. Warm, safe, and fun. He returned her smile, willing himself to forget the earlier exchange. "Course I did. Remind me to get it before you go."

Lacey turned suddenly and pulled him into an embrace, holding on tightly. Even though she didn't speak a word, Adam knew this was her way of apologizing. And by way of returning it, he held her just as tightly, kissing her forehead, her hair, her ear.

He would never let what just happened between them happen again.