29. Luca

29 /

luca

The weight of my emotions nearly knocked me off my feet. I'd only thought I was nervous when I was waiting for Harp. Seeing him brought back all the hurt I'd felt over the last week, but those feelings paled in comparison to the massive relief of being near him again. I broke into a smile and lunged forward, eager to hold him and praying he'd say this nightmare could end. I sank into him when he returned the hug, but he pulled away too soon, leaving me breathless and yearning for more.

He had a tan, so he'd been outside enjoying the sun. His hair was a little longer, perhaps lighter, and a new crease marred his forehead. Had he been as worried as I was? As our eyes met, I remembered how I'd slept until yesterday afternoon, then whooped with joy when I found his message saying he was coming home. I climbed out of bed and forced myself to eat. Since I canceled Derrick's visit on Wednesday—he was the guy who cleaned my apartment—I spent this morning straightening up. I even changed the sheets, just in case.

I managed a few bites of pizza even though I didn't have much of an appetite. The nausea that had plagued me all week was gone, but now my stomach felt like a clenched fist. While we ate, Harp told me about his friend Eckie. I tried to listen, but sudden knee jerks and mindless fidgeting with a fork gave away my jitters.

He sat back in his chair after finishing two slices of pizza. "We're both nervous, Luca, but why aren't you eating?"

"Always been hard for me when I'm scared."

He widened his eyes. "Don't be afraid of me. I'm not here to hurt you."

"I don't want to hurt you, either. Are you finished eating?"

"At least for now. Thanks for the delicious pizza."

"Good old Scionti's." My mouth went dry as a bone, and I reached for my water and drank half the bottle. "Want to go talk? I can't think about anything else."

"Let's do it."

In the living room, I sat on the couch while he claimed a nearby chair. I would have felt better if he'd sat next to me, but one step at a time. After a deep breath, I started us off. "I missed you so much, and I feel terrible about what happened."

"I missed you, too." His neutral expression slipped into seriousness. "I need to know something, and please tell me the truth. Lying won't help either of us."

I nodded, more nervous than I'd been before my first professional game.

"Did you have sex with Caleb last weekend? I don't mean only fucking, but any kind of sexual contact."

"No, absolutely not. I wouldn't do that to us. I know I screwed up by staying there all night, and if I'd been down here when you woke up, we'd have spent this last week having fun in Maine. Don't think I haven't regretted my stupid decision a thousand times each day. A million times. I didn't touch Caleb, and what you saw… I know it looked bad." My voice croaked like a toad. When Harper remained silent, I swallowed and kept talking. "It looked bad, but it wasn't what it seemed. I swear, Harp. You've got to believe me."

Silence stretched between us, growing so taut I had a crazy idea it might break. Harper's sharp eyes made me squirm, but I held his gaze. I was afraid if I looked away, he'd think I was lying.

"I believe you," he finally said.

Relief washed over me like a tidal wave, overwhelming me so much I doubled over. I braced my hands on my knees as my heart hammered in my chest. We'll be okay. He believes me. "Thank God," I whispered, straightening up. "You mean everything to me."

As quickly as I'd felt relief, dread returned. If he believed me, why wasn't he smiling? "What's wrong, Harp? Tell me."

"I hurt you, too, jumping to conclusions. I should've trusted you more, and I was an ass to leave before we could talk."

"Neither of us was thinking normally. Caleb was a wreck, and the way he showed up out of the blue was enough to throw anybody."

"I should've trusted you more, and I'm sorry I didn't."

I got off the couch and knelt in front of him. He let me take his hand. "I forgive you, and I'm sorry for being so stupid."

"You weren't stupid. Staying up there wasn't a good decision, but Caleb was a mess, and you were trying to be there for him. I told you to go back upstairs and talk. You did nothing wrong, and I'm sorry I acted like a bastard just because things looked suspicious. I should've let you explain before I left for D.C."

I squeezed Harp's hand, enjoying the familiar softness. "Thank you for understanding, but I should have done better. It won't happen again. I can't promise I'll be perfect, but I learn from my mistakes."

His wan smile did little to reassure me. "Sit down, Luca. I have something to say."

The bottom dropped out of my stomach. Swallowing hard, I reluctantly let go of his hand and moved back to the couch. Before he could speak, I said, "I like you so much, and this week has only made that clearer."

"I like you, too. Maybe more than you realize."

He sighed heavily and stared at the floor while he collected his thoughts. My chest tightened because I didn't know what to expect. He had a right to say anything he wanted, but if we liked each other so much and he believed me, what was the problem? We needed to move on and put this all in the past. Though I tried to sit still, one of my feet tapped the floor while the opposite knee jiggled. I regretted eating any of the pizza because it was like lead in my stomach.

He finally raised his head. "I don't want you to think I don't care for you. We've had a wonderful time this summer, and you've made me feel so much. Incredible sex, amazing emotions, unbelievable happiness. But last weekend turned things upside down."

"It did, but we're ready to go forward. We've learned from what happened, and that's how life works. Make mistakes, figure out what went wrong, and go on."

"What if we can't go on?"

"We can , babe. Caring about each other is what counts. As long as we have that, we can get past this. We'll be stronger, happier than ever."

He nodded, then stared out the window. "The lake always looks so peaceful this time of day."

It was getting dark, and the remnants of light stretched across the indigo water like lifelines. I reached for one. "Remember that night up on the roof? We didn't know what was going on with us, but we believed something good could happen, and it did. There's a lot more waiting for us, Harp. We just have to go for it."

He turned back toward me. "I hope so, but I need a favor."

Goddammit. Why won't he just say we can put this sorry fuck-up behind us? Doesn't he want to get over it? I steeled myself and nodded. "What favor?"

"You still want to make things work, right?"

"How many times have I fucking said that already? All week, I sent messages you ignored, and how many more times have I said it tonight? I want to be with you more than anything, but I'm starting to wonder if you want to be with me." I'd gotten loud, but so fucking what? It was time for him to hear me.

"I want to be with you, but there are things I should figure out about myself so I can be the man you need."

"What the hell? You're the man I want. If you want me, then say we're okay."

"You aren't getting it!"

I handed his snappish tone back to him. "How can I when you're talking in riddles? I understand all I need to, which is that we care for each other and want to keep building a relationship. If you're trying to say anything else, you need to speak English."

"You're right." He rubbed his hands together and blew out a long breath. "You know my story—the guy who was never a keeper, who got cheated on, used, and then tossed aside. Last weekend, when I thought it had happened again, all the hurt and anguish came back. The wounds were as open and painful as the day they happened. I judged you." He stopped and heaved out a long sigh before going on. "In my mind, even if you hadn't fucked Caleb, you put him first. He was the one who was important, and I was the substitute. When he came here acting like he'd lost his puppy, I was the one you let go. I wasn't the keeper. He was, even if he wouldn't let you keep him."

I swallowed hard, feeling sick. I'd already figured out the "keeper" part, but I didn't know he'd thought Caleb was the important one, and he was the substitute. For years, I'd felt like Caleb kept me waiting in the wings in case something happened to Daniel, and it hurt like hell. Horrified that I'd made Harp think the same thing, I started shaking. "Did I make you feel like that? You were in second place?"

"Last weekend, I thought you did, but now I realize it wasn't true. I made myself feel that way. That's what's wrong, don't you see? I judged you and ran because of my own fucked up self-image. I need to fix that, but first, I have to figure out how. If you want to be together, please give me time to work it out."

My stomach sank. What kind of fucked up thinking had he been doing all week? "How much time?"

"I'm not sure. Training camp, at least. Long enough to get a handle on what I'm dealing with and find a therapist."

"That's backward. You already know what you're feeling. Find a therapist, and they'll help you work through it."

"I can't go to therapy while I'm at camp. Some days, we barely have time to use the bathroom."

I shook my head. "It isn't like you'll have any more time when the season starts. You'll be gone as much as you're home."

"Yes, but we won't be busy twenty-four hours a day. I can go to therapy when we're in town."

My heart hurt at the thought of him leaving again without settling things between us. I could see he was struggling, and although I knew he wasn't trying to be cruel, it felt that way. Why keep running away? I was glad he wanted to get a handle on the things that had hurt him, but as boyfriends, we could support each other. I couldn't be his therapist, but I could be his foundation. Did he not think I was good enough to do that? Again, it seemed like he didn't care about my feelings, because he couldn't do this to me if he did. But if I wanted him, I'd have to find a way to deal with it. "How long's camp?"

"Three weeks."

Fuck. Three more weeks of hell? "And we can be together after that?"

"I hope so."

He hopes so? What the fuck? "And I'm just supposed to wait while you decide if we can?"

"Not if you don't want to. This isn't about you. It's about me needing to get myself together. I promise to let you know if I don't feel like it's happening." His eyes filled with tears, and he choked out the rest. "If you can't wait, or don't want to, I'll try to understand."

I already knew I'd wait as long as there was hope. It would be hell, and the prospect of long weeks or months of not knowing what would happen made me shudder. I had to force my next words past a huge lump in my throat. "I want to be with you, so I'll wait."

"Your camp will start soon, so you'll be busy, too. I'm not asking you to sit around and wait forever."

A sob burst out of me, and the next thing I knew, Harp was sitting beside me on the sofa. We were holding each other, and he was crying, too. It wasn't his fault others had hurt him so badly. He was a good man, and if he didn't care about me, he wouldn't have asked me to wait for him. If our relationship didn't matter, he'd just say it was over.

It was dark outside by the time we calmed down. The cry had been cathartic, and I was determined to be the man he needed. As confused as I was about why we couldn't work through things together, I'd had enough mental health issues to understand you sometimes have to do it on your own. Besides, waiting wouldn't be that different from what my life had been before Harper. At least I'd have hope things would improve.

He reiterated his promise to let me know if he thought he couldn't get it together enough for us to be a couple, and I promised to tell him if I couldn't wait any longer. What lay ahead was daunting for both of us, but we wanted each other enough not to walk away. We spent the night on the couch, holding each other, but nothing more.

Early the next morning, I cooked eggs and bacon while he packed for camp. I helped him carry his things to the garage, and we exchanged a long hug before he drove away. As I watched him leave, my insides were a tempest of emotions. Had the night been the first step in getting us back on track, or was it the beginning of a long, painful goodbye?