Collision Course - Luke Hughes

More Than a Number

The first few days after surgery were a blur of pain meds, ice packs, and stiff silence.

Ella hated everything. The brace. The crutches. The look on people's faces when they tried to comfort her without saying the word Olympics. Her phone buzzed with messages she didn't want to read. Her cleats still sat by the door, untouched and pointless.

But the worst part was the way Adam and Luca treated her like glass-checking in constantly, hovering in quiet guilt, never daring to say her name and Luke's in the same sentence.

And yet, Luke showed up. Every single day.

Never loud. Never demanding. Just... there.

He brought her breakfast sandwiches when she was too nauseous to eat oatmeal. He propped up her textbooks and helped her stretch without making her feel broken. He held her hair back the night the meds made her sick and kissed her forehead like she hadn't just cried in front of him for the third time that week.

They didn't talk about what it meant. Not yet.

But it was starting to feel like more.

"You're bending too far," Luke said, adjusting the angle of her leg as she winced through a light rehab stretch in her dorm room.

"Yeah, well, you have a sprained wrist, and I haven't accused you of being a drama queen lately," she muttered.

He smirked. "Yet."

She bit back a grin, breathing through the pain. "This sucks."

"I know."

His hands were warm and steady on her calf, guiding her through the slow motion of rehab, his voice a low hum of patience she didn't know he had. They were inches apart on her floor, her back against the wall, his knee brushing hers every time she shifted.

When she finally relaxed, breath shaky but triumphant, he didn't move away.

"I miss it," she whispered. "The game. The way it made me feel like I mattered."

"You still matter," he said softly.

She looked at him. "You don't get it."

Luke reached behind his neck and pulled his sweatshirt over his head in one smooth motion. Her gaze dropped automatically-to the familiar navy practice tee he wore underneath, and then to the chain around his neck. She'd seen it before, peeking out during games.

But now, he pulled it out.

A small pendant, barely bigger than a quarter.

A tiny silver 43.

Ella stared. "You wear the number?"

He nodded, eyes on hers. "I used to wear it because I thought it sounded cool. I liked the way it looked on the jersey. It felt... sharp. Different."

She swallowed.

"But now?" he said, voice softer. "Now it's you. It's always going to be you."

The silence wrapped around them like a thread, pulling tighter with every breath.

"You can't say stuff like that," she whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because you're leaving. Because this hurts enough already."

Luke moved closer, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "Then let me make it worth it."

She didn't realize she was crying until he wiped the tear off her face with the side of his thumb.

Then she kissed him.

Soft. Slow. Like she needed to remember what good felt like.

He kissed her back like she was still whole. Like she still scared the hell out of him in the best way.

And that's exactly how Adam and Luca found them.

The door hadn't been locked. She hadn't heard them come in. But the second Adam's voice sliced through the room, she felt her stomach drop through the floor.

"What the hell is going on?"

Luke pulled back instantly. Ella froze.

Luca stood in the doorway, arms crossed, mouth pressed into a thin, furious line. Adam looked ready to throw something.

"I asked you one thing," Adam said, voice shaking. "One. Thing."

"Get out," Luca said to Luke, low and dangerous.

Luke stood slowly. "I'm not going to apologize for caring about her."

Adam stepped forward, teeth clenched. "You don't get to care about her. Not like this."

"I didn't plan this," Luke snapped. "But I'm not walking away just because you don't like it."

Ella finally stood, wobbling slightly on her crutches. "Enough."

Both brothers turned to her.

"I get that you're mad. I do. But this is my life. And maybe I didn't ask for any of this-losing soccer, losing everything I worked for-but I still get to decide what I want. And right now? I want him."

Luke's gaze flickered to hers-hopeful, stunned.

Adam's voice was barely above a whisper. "Even if it ends?"

She looked at Luke. "Especially if it does."

The silence that followed was loud and final.

Adam walked out first.

Luca followed without another word.

And when the door clicked shut behind them, Ella turned back to Luke-trembling, wrecked, but more sure than she'd ever been.

"I'm not done fighting," she said.

"Good," he said, stepping back into her space. "Neither am I."