Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Luca watches me giving me the space to process my thoughts before I speak.
“I either sabotage relationships or run before they have a chance to go wrong on their own.”
I let out a shaky breath, fingers twisted in the hem of my sweater. “I saw the way you looked at me after Gio walked in. Like I’d betrayed you.” My voice cracks. “I hated that. I hated hurting you.”
Silence stretches out between us.
Until finally, Luca pushes his chair back and crosses the small space between us. He stands in front of me, solid and still and steady.
“What do you think you’d do if your brother walked in on us right now?” His hand lifts, brushing his knuckles across my jaw, then tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.
I shake my head.
That’s not going to happen again—I don’t think.
“I don’t know.”
He tilts his head as he studies my expression. “Why do I feel like…there’s an ultimatum brewing. Is that crazy?”
My stomach tightens.
He’s not wrong; this is exactly what it feels like and it’s my fault we’re in this position. Mine and Gio’s, for initially telling me to stay away from his teammates.
Like a fly to honey…
“The worst part of all this is—I have no idea where I stand with you,” Luca confesses.
I swallow hard. “You stand exactly where you’ve always stood.”
Weak.
So weak…
“That’s not comforting,” he tells me, bitterness edging into his voice, the familiar tone he’d used the other night. “One minute you’re kissing me like I’m oxygen and the next you’re pulling away like I’m fire.”
Translation: you’re hot, then you’re cold.
“You’re both,” I whisper. “You’re everything.”
“Doesn’t feel that way.” The flowers he brought me are already wilting on the counter from lack of water, and I want to give them the attention that they need, but don’t have the courage to pull away from Luca.
What began as a fun, flirtatious fling has turned into a messy mess.
One I don’t know how to fix.
Luca’s gaze drops to the floor for a second, jaw tight, chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. When he looks up again, something in his expression is different.
Final.
I feel it before he even moves, my breath hitching as he steps closer—enough to slip his hand around the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair.
“Nova,” he murmurs, voice wrecked.
Then,
He kisses me.
It’s not soft. It’s not patient.
It’s everything he’s been holding back the past three days; everything we’ve avoided, everything we’ve both too afraid to say out loud.
I am a coward.
His mouth moves over mine like it’s the last time he’ll ever have the chance. Like he’s memorizing the taste of me. Like he’s letting go.
It’s a goodbye, and I feel it in every inch of my skin.
I shiver.
My hands fist in the front of his sweater, pulling him closer as my heart screams don’t let me go! but his kiss is already changing. Slower now. Less desperate. Like he’s easing out of something that meant too much and hurt too deeply.
When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t move far. His forehead rests against mine, and I can feel his breath ghost across my cheek.
“I love you,” he whispers.
I don’t say it back.
I can’t.
Not because I don’t feel it—God, I do—but because the words get stuck in my throat, where they will live in more regret.
He doesn’t react.
Doesn’t flinch or pull away.
Instead of walking out of my apartment, Luca slips his hand into mine and gently tugs me out of my chair.
I follow.
Wordless. Shaking.
He leads me to the living room, past the flickering light from the kitchen and the abandoned bowl of ramen.
He doesn’t say anything as he lowers me onto the couch, careful, like I’m breakable. Like we both are.
Then he lies beside me.
Fully clothed.
Facing me.
And for a long, suspended beat, we just stare at each other. My eyes burn. His are already glassy. His hand finds my hip and rests there, grounding. My fingers trail over the fabric of his sleeve, then up his arms, over his bicep.
When he kisses me again, it’s softer. Slower. A final exhale of something beautiful and bruised. It’s not about claiming or fixing. It’s not even about forgiveness for the mistakes I’ve been making.
It’s about having this.
I love you. His eyes tell me.
The words shoot straight to my heart—words I’ve never romantically spoken to another human. Repeating them to Luca would be a first.
My lips part.
The words he so desperately wants to hear and that I want to say, hover—trembling, unsaid, suspended in the air between us like the softest truth I’ve never dared to speak aloud.
But before I can get them out—
The front door slams open.
Loud.
Jarring.
I jolt. Luca flinches.
And then—
“Oh for the love of Christ.”
Gio’s voice. Sharp. Disbelieving. Very much inside my apartment.
My entire body locks up as Luca’s arms go stiff around me. We both whip toward the doorway in time to see Gio standing there, keys still in his hand, eyes wide as they rake across the scene: