Chapter 5: High School Memories (I) I woke up with a start, my heart racing. The dream had been so vivid-Lucas carrying me through the halls of Westlake Prep, my head resting against his chest, his voice stern as he told onlookers to move aside. It wasn't just a dream, though. It was a memory. I glanced at the digital clock on my nightstand: . The penthouse was silent except for the gentle hum of the climate control system. Lucas would be sleeping in the master bedroom down the hall-we'd maintained separate rooms since the beginning of our marriage. Unable to fall back asleep, I slipped out of bed and padded to the kitchen for a glass of water. The marble floor was cold against my bare feet. As I reached for a glass, a voice behind me made me jump. "Couldn't sleep?" Lucas stood in the doorway, wearing only pajama bottoms. His chest was bare, muscled but lean, with a light dusting of dark hair that narrowed to a trail disappearing beneath the waistband. His hair was tousled from sleep, and there was a crease on his cheek from his pillow. I averted my eyes, suddenly conscious of my thin silk nightgown. "Just thirsty." He moved into the kitchen, reaching past me to grab a glass for himself. His arm brushed mine, and I felt a jolt of awareness ripple through me. "You were talking in your sleep," he said casually, filling his glass from the filtered water dispenser. "I heard you when I passed your room." I froze. "What did I say?" Lucas leaned against the counter, studying me. "My name. Something about the infirmary?" He took a sip of water. "Were you dreaming about high school?" I nodded reluctantly. "Junior year. When I got sick during finals week." His brow furrowed slightly. "Right. You had pneumonia, didn't you?" "You remember?" "Bits and pieces. It was a long time ago." He set his glass down. "You collapsed in the middle of AP Chem. Mr. Wallace was useless-just stood there gaping. So I carried you to the nurse." I stared at him, surprised he recalled that much. "You missed your basketball game. The championship against Ridgemont." Lucas shrugged. "We lost by three points. Coach Williams made me run extra drills for a week." A faint smile touched his lips. "Worth it, though. You were burning up with fever." "Why was it worth it?" I asked quietly. His smile faded, replaced by something unreadable. "It was the right thing to do." Of course. Lucas Bailey had always done the right thing-defending the bullied, helping the sick, standing up for what he believed in. That was who he was. It had nothing to do with me specifically. I remembered that day with painful clarity. How the room had spun around me during our chemistry final. How I'd tried to push through, unwilling to fail the exam. Then nothing but darkness. I'd woken to find myself in Lucas's arms as he carried me through the quiet hallways. The school was empty-everyone was at the game. I could hear distant cheering from the gymnasium. "The game," I'd mumbled, my throat raw. "You'll miss it." "Shut up," he'd said, but gently. "You're more important than some stupid game." In the infirmary, the nurse had taken one look at me and called an ambulance. Lucas had stayed, holding my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. I'd been delirious with fever, but I remembered the cool press of his fingers against my burning skin. When the paramedics arrived, he'd slipped something into my hand. "For when you feel better," he'd whispered. It was a handful of candies-peppermint drops, my favorite. That was the day I fell in love with Lucas Bailey. Standing in our kitchen seven years later, I watched him finish his water and rinse the glass. "You should go back to bed," he said. "It's late." I nodded, setting my own glass in the sink. As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me. "Autumn." I looked back at him. "I'm sorry I didn't remember you right away. When we met again, I mean." The unexpected apology caught me off guard. "It's fine. Like you said, it was a long time ago." He ran a hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. "Still. We spent what, half a year as lab partners? And I carried you to the infirmary, for God's sake. I should have remembered." I studied him, trying to decipher what had prompted this sudden conscience. "Why does it matter now?" Lucas was quiet for a moment. "I don't know. It just feels important somehow." We stood there in the dim kitchen, the ghost of our shared past hovering between us. I wanted to tell him that it had mattered to me-that every moment we'd spent together had been etched into my memory. That while he'd forgotten me completely, I'd kept every scrap of our history close to my heart. Instead, I said, "Goodnight, Lucas," and walked back to my bedroom, closing the door firmly behind me. I didn't sleep for the rest of the night. I lay awake, remembering the weight of Lucas's arms as he carried me, the steady beat of his heart against my ear, the scent of his cologne mixed with the clean smell of laundry detergent. Memories that meant everything to me and nothing to him. Until now, apparently. I wondered what had changed. Why, after all this time, was Lucas Bailey suddenly interested in our shared history? Why apologize now for something that had happened years ago? I had no answers, only questions that circled my mind until dawn began to lighten the sky outside my window. What I didn't know then was that this small crack in the wall between us would soon widen, allowing something unexpected to slip through.