I arrived back to my apartment in a huff of annoyance. I shoved the door open and strode in, going to check my mail as I realized that Ms. Smith wasn't loitering around the area for once.

I unlocked my mailbox to see a package from my dad. It had the words 'REPLACE IN 2022' in all capitals in red sharpie. I smiled, it must be the pepper spray.

"What needs replacing?" Ms. Smith's voice sounded from behind me.

"Holy shit!" I shouted, putting my hands to my heart in the hopes it would help slow it down.

"Language," she reprimanded me.

"You want to snoop on my mail and then tell me to watch my language?" I asked drily. "Have you ever considered cats, Ms. Smith?"

She narrowed her eyes at me, "Cats are noble and righteous animals. You'd be lucky to ever get near a cat."

"You need a hobby." I stated before making my way up the stairs.

I opened my apartment and deposited my tired body on the couch, lying on it with my legs raised on the arm. I pulled out my phone.

Emily: Thank you for the pepper spray!

Dad: Take it with you everywhere. Love you Emily.

Emily: I love you too

Dad: Check out this story of a UFO sighting-

I threw my phone on the coffee table with a thud, but thoughts of Daniel's disappointed face plagued my mind.

I jumped up again and searched for a book I had on spinal cord injury. My fingers found the used spine and I tugged it out flipping to the page I was most concerned about - exercise.

Scientific studies predict that most recovery will come within six months of injury, and is complete within two years. It is scientifically proven that these medical expectations could be beaten, and did, having significant improvement two to seven years after the accident. This was tied to the exercise routine began the year one becomes paralyzed. Though each loved one that is paralyzed will not have the same outcomes, professionals all agree that exercise is a good thing for all those suffering with any form of paralysis.

I grabbed the page I was looking at and photocopied it, stuffing it into an envelope with a couple other research articles on how to exercise and defend yourself in a wheelchair. Daniel didn't have to feel weak just because he was in a chair.

I grabbed my phone and keys and left my apartment without thinking, my limbs moving on their own. I skipped the steps to the lobby two at a time, running past Ms. Smith.

"Where are you going?!" She asked desperately as I ran past her.

"See ya, Ms. Smith!"

"Well, I never," she huffed.

I stopped by the bus and realized I needed to wait another twelve minutes, which kind of killed my buzz.

Screw this. I pulled out my phone and called a cab, hopping in and giving him the address for Lucas' gym.

We pulled up and I marched with determination to the door, tugging at it powerfully. It didn't budge.

I shook it again. Was it a pull door? I pulled at it without it moving. I looked above the handle and noticed the 'closed' sign. Well, this was disappointing.

Just as I noticed Lucas' black car in the parking lot, the door opened and Lucas' confused face peered at me. He wore black shorts and a wife beater that seemed to enunciate his already huge frame, but I tried to ignore it, looking at his face with confidence.

I had to take a second glance when I noticed all the cuts that peppered his face. He had a pretty wide slash on his arm that looked like he had abandoned in the middle of treating. What had happened to him?

"What are you doing here?" He asked furrowing his brows and holding the door open with one of his large arms. Tattoos trailed down his arms and I tried to decipher what he had scribbled across his hulking body. What was I here for again?

I pushed past his large figure and into the gym. He looked at me in surprise as I shoved the packet I had printed out onto his chest. His large hand held onto it and I crossed my arms in defiance. "Here."

"What is this?" He inquired, not making a move to open it up.

"It's article after article explaining why exercise is important. It's fine if you don't believe he's going to recover, but Daniel doesn't need to hear that and he certainly doesn't need you training other boys his age in something he's desperate to do with you!" I huffed putting my hands on my waist.

He raised his eyebrow, but made no move to respond so I continued in an outrage, "You think he likes being treated like an invalid? You think he enjoys being cooped up in that condo with no one to see and nothing to do?" I flailed my arms about me wildly to establish my point further, "he doesn't, Lucas. The more you treat him like he's incapable of doing anything, the less he wants to try."

His face was blank as I finished my rant and we stared at each other. My chest was heaving from the emotional energy of confronting him, but I could feel a warm, magnetizing pull in the air. My eyes flickered to his plush lips seeing them part as I did so.

I cleared my throat, "Well, that's all I wanted to say to you. You should get that cut treated or it'll get infected," I gestured to his arm angrily. "I hope I still have my job," I added as an afterthought. I brushed past him and outside the door. I pulled out my phone and called for a cab, waiting on a bench at the side of the building.

"Hey!" I looked to my side to see sweaty Frank from earlier.

I groaned, "Frank, my day could not get any worse right now."

He grinned at me, his gold tooth shining in the moonlight, "Want to talk about it?" He asked approaching me and rubbing a hand along my arm. "I make a great listener." His alcohol flavoured breath wafted over to me making me gag a little.

"Great to know." I responded, going on my phone to send him a message that him and his sweat weren't welcome.

"I don't think you'll be able to ignore me after tonight, doll." His hand travelled up my arm to my elbow.

"That's great, actually," I began.

His eyebrows shot up, "it is?"

"Oh yeah. Because my ex left me with an STD and now you'll be able to help me figure out which one it was," I smiled up at him as he swallowed harshly.

His eyes narrowed at me, "You're a bit of a smart as." He commented harshly.

"Why thank you, Frank." I began to get up but he held onto my arm tightly, his fingers clasped again my wrist. "Let go," I warned but my heart was beating wildly.

A fist came flying through the air and into Frank's nose as he bent over, cradling the bleeding thing pathetically.

"I told you to leave her alone, Frank." Lucas's normally stoic face was livid, his icy blue eyes menacing as he looked over Frank who seemed to be in a fetal position on the floor. If I thought I irritated Lucas before, I almost felt bad for Frank.

He quickly scampered to his feet and scurried off.

"Are you okay?" Lucas asked as he reached over to seemingly touch my shoulder before pulling it back.

"I swear I don't have an STD," I blurted out, my cheeks ablaze with embarrassment.

Lucas surprised me by letting out a laugh and I just stared at how mesmerizing his face was. His features softened and he looked stress free for once.

"Come on, I'll drive you home." He stated, reaching out with his hand and placing it lightly on my waist. I pulled away slightly as I felt the familiar tingles surrounding his warm fingers. We walked to his car and all I could do was hope the butterflies in my stomach would settle down.