Page 95 of Lighting the Lamp
“When did you wake up?”
“Reasonably early.”
“Define ‘reasonably.’”
“Before noon,” I offer, proud of myself.
Parker rubs his temple. “Okay, great. Sleep quality?”
“Fine.”
“Not helpful. You snore? Wake up tired? Dreams? Restlessness? Are you still waking up stiff?”
“I’m always stiff.” Jace throws in with a wink, earning a chorus of groans.
“Get out,” Parker mutters, tossing a rolled Ace wrap at Jace’s head, then he turns back to me with a narrowed gaze. “Knee pain?”
“Manageable. Nothing more than the usual.”
He squints. “Scale of one to ten.”
I lift a shoulder. “Two. Maybe three after long skates.”
“And you’re icing after?”
“When I remember.”
“So, never.”
I grin. “Not never. Just… not always.”
He huffs and scribbles something on the clipboard. “Okay, but if I see you limping or favoring that leg again, we’re doing stability testing every damn day until it’s playoff season.”
“Understood.”
“Good.” He eyes me like he can tell there’s something I’m not saying. “Are you sure you’re good?”
“Yeah, Parker. I’m good.” I nod, heart thudding harder than it should. “Save the mother hen routine for someone who needs it.”
Parker doesn’t reply right away. He just watches me the same way he did the day he first asked me if my knees were locking again. The day I told him the constant fatigue was just a rough week. The day he knew I was lying.
“Okay. But if anything feels off?—”
“I’ll say something.”
That’s another lie, but not completely. I feel physically better than I have in over a year. I’ve been good for weeks. Five full weeks of practices and games where my legs didn’t turn to lead halfway through drills. Five weeks of sharp vision, steady hands, no tremors, and no crushing fatigue. I want to believe it’ll stay that way, even if I know better now. Even if there’s a word sitting heavy on my chest every morning when I wake up.
Lupus.
It’s there in the quiet, the ache that moves even when my knees don’t. But right now, I don’t let it touch this moment. I feel great, and Alise has been opening her world to me, piece by piece.
She smiles when she sees me, like she’s not second-guessing it anymore. Alise lets me see past the careful shields and structured day, sharing the soft underbelly of her fears. The way her thoughts are too loud, the way she carries everyone else’s weight before her own, and the fact that she is finally trusting me. Alise has always trusted me, there’s no doubt about that, but she hasn’t trusted me with the most important part of herself, her heart. She told me she felt safe with me, and that means everything.
Cooper is already chirping again from across the room, bringing me back to the present. “You’ve got that dumb post-kiss glow again. It’s like watching a golden retriever discover love.”
My teammates are loud, obnoxious, and probably right. And I don’t care because I’m happy.
Not just in passing or in a “this is nice” kind of way. It’s the happiness that settles in your bones and makes the world feel softer around the edges. The kind I didn’t think I’d get again, not with my body fighting me and the what-ifs hanging over my head like storm clouds. But right now? The air smells of fresh ice and sweat. My legs feel steady, and the girl I haven’t stopped thinking about is slowly opening up to me like she wants me to be hers. So yeah, let them chirp, I really don’t give a fuck.
