Chapter 22

22

TORI

I’m restless.

An hour-and-a-half-long walk alone on the beach does nothing to fix it, either, and I rinse off my sandy feet before going inside.

It might be nerves on Luca’s behalf. Today’s the first preseason game. I want so badly for it to go well for him and the team. He left yesterday for the hotel—he has to stay there despite it being a home game. I’ve come to feel a lot of resentment toward the Meridian Hotel and Suites.

But that’s not the only reason for my restlessness. Things have been…weird for the last couple days since the interview. We’ve both been a bit stiff. Too polite. Not enough teasing.

I don’t know what it is on Luca’s side, but for me it’s a mixture of uncertainty and embarrassment. I can tell Luca until I’m blue in the face that what I said about him during the interview was a performance, but he’s always been able to see through me more than I like. I’m almost positive he knows at least some of the truth of how I feel. And apparently, it’s scared him off.

But I could’ve sworn there was some truth to what he said too. Two things he said have been on repeat in my head since the interview.

Tori came into my life like lightning .

What does it mean? I’d like to think it’s a compliment, but I’m not at all sure of that. Lightning is pretty from a distance, sure, but it’s terrifying up close. It’s destructive. It’s violent. And then it’s gone.

I’ve certainly wreaked havoc in Luca’s life since meeting him. I wouldn’t describe myself as violent, per se, but I am a lot. And then the gone thing…that’s the reality. That I’ll be gone once everything is settled for him. Preston said two years to get the green card, assuming he does get it. It’s already been four months. Time is moving so fast. Too fast. For me, at least.

And yet…Luca also said That’s not the sort of person you let get away, sir .

What does it mean?!

I almost asked him yesterday, almost admitted everything just to keep myself from going crazy. But he was on his way out to the hotel, and it seemed selfish to try to have a serious discussion about our relationship when he’s trying to focus on his first NFL game ever.

Or maybe I’m just grasping for excuses not to put myself out there. Being dumped by Ryan crushed me; I can’t imagine how it would feel if that happened with Luca and we still had over a year and a half of marriage to do together.

I shower and do my hair and makeup, then open up the closet and halt.

Hanging there in front of all my clothes is a light-blue Admirals jersey. There’s a sticky note attached to it, and I pull it off.

In case you need something to wear today.

I unhook the hanger from the bar, my eyes on the big, white number 19. I turn it around to see Callahan written in all-caps on the back.

It’s his name. But it’s also mine.

I’ve grown really fond of it. It’ll be hard to give it up when the time comes. I’ve wondered how Luca feels about me using it, because the truth is, he didn’t give it to me willingly. He was forced into it.

But he wasn’t forced to give me this jersey.

I stare at the name a little more, then pull the jersey off the hanger and over my head. If any part of Luca wants me to wear his name, I will wear the heck out of it.

I drive to the stadium and park, and even though I get princess parking as a spouse of a team member, my family is already waiting at the stadium entrance. They’re decked out in Admiral colors: light blue, white, and black. The men in particular have gone fully front-row-fanatic. Jack has his face painted blue, with a black-outlined number 19 on one cheek. Troy has sprayed his hair blue and is holding a sign that says Callahan for Rookie of the Year. Baby Eden is wearing an Admirals onesie and sucking on a football-shaped pacifier. Austin has zero shame, wearing an old-school bicorne admiral hat with gold trim like he just got off the set of Master and Commander . Even my dad has put blue stripes under his eyes to match his Admirals shirt.

“You’re all dorks,” I say, but I hug each one of them extra tight. I’m so grateful for a family that will show up for Luca. Every single one of them insisted on coming, including Siena, who’s finally past her morning sickness but is now in full third-trimester discomfort. I make a mental note to talk to her about pregnancy pillows.

We take our seats in the family section, and the stadium starts to fill. I went to a couple of football games in college, and they were fun, but this? It’s totally different.

When the team runs out, my family goes wild. Jack pulls off his shirt to reveal his entire upper-body painted in blue.

“I married a Smurf,” Siena says resignedly, reaching for the popcorn he bought her.

Mia leans over and kisses Austin on the cheek. “Proud of you for keeping your shirt on, babe. I know how hard that is for you.”

I’m vaguely aware of the talking going on amidst the screaming, but I’m jumping up and down, cheering, my gaze fixed on Luca as he jogs out from the tunnel. This is my first time seeing him in uniform, and it does…things…to me. Things I can’t explain.

I’m hot and bothered but also teary-eyed. We women are complicated creatures.

When Luca lines up for the kick-off, my heart goes berserk with nerves and anticipation. It continues to beat quickly the entire game, with surges of activity whenever the offense is on the field and the ball is snapped.

It’s excitement and terror and nail-biting anxiety as I mostly ignore the ball and watch Luca’s every move. I cringe whenever he and another player make contact. When he makes his first catch of the game, I shout like a lunatic as he charges downfield.

Until he gets rammed by number 24 on the opposing team. My cheering cuts off abruptly as if I’m the one who just got barreled into. I go on my tiptoes, trying to see what’s happening in the heap of bodies around Luca, my anxiety going full-throttle.

Is he hurt? What am I thinking?! How could he not be?

“Come on, ref!” I yell. “Throw 24 out of the game!”

“Tori,” Troy says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “It was a clean hit.”

“Clean?” I say incredulously. “He almost killed Luca!”

“He’s fine. See?”

Sure enough, the bodies begin to disperse, and Luca gets up, the football still cradled in his arms.

I let out a massive sigh of relief.

“That’s the game, Tori,” Troy says, amused.

I know it is. But watching my husband be the one getting tackled? That hits different, no pun intended.

Luca has three more receptions, each of which draws huge cheers from my family. Austin takes it upon himself to inform me of the other great plays Luca has—plays where he doesn’t get the ball but has a good block.

He points to the Jumbotron as the replay starts. “See how he’s clearing the path for the other receiver to?—”

“Yeah, a screen pass,” I say, wincing as Luca and the defensive back smash into each other.

Austin stares at me like I’ve just been beamed down from a spaceship.

I shrug. “What? I help Luca study a lot. I’m basically a football guru now.”

Guru or not, the hits I watch Luca take are unbearable, and I’m in awe every time he gets up like nothing happened. I have never seen anything so simultaneously terrifying and sexy.

The final score is 27-23 for the Admirals, and in a haze of joyous victory we all feel like we had a personal hand in achieving, our entourage heads for the players’ lounge, our voices all raspy from overuse. In the lounge, there are a couple ping-pong tables and a massive TV playing Sports Center’s recaps of the game.

“Oo,” Siena says, looking at the far end of the room. “Food!” She rubs her stomach. “This baby eats like he plans to be on the Admiral’s offensive line.”

The men grab the ping-pong paddles and start a game of doubles while Mom, Mia, Stevie, Eden, and I take seats in the small area where they’ve provided a few toys for kids.

It feels like forever before the doors from the locker room open, and it’s a couple minutes beyond that before Luca emerges.

My family goes crazy. Because they are crazy. It’s the only way they know how to be.

We all head for Luca as he comes toward us, freshly showered and wearing an Admirals tracksuit. There’s a moment of hesitation when we all stop, facing each other.

Siena gives me a ruthless shove, pushing me into his arms.

Luca catches me, and I hesitate for a second, then wrap my arms around him. This isn’t a time for being awkward or self-conscious. Luca just won his first NFL game.

“You were incredible,” I say. “And you’re still alive.”

He chuckles into my hair. “Thank you for being here. And for wearing it. I’ve never loved my uniform more.”

It takes me a second to respond. “Number one fan right here.”

“She was genuinely worried you were at death’s door about fifty times,” Siena says, ruining the moment she brutishly orchestrated.

Luca pulls back and looks down at me with a smile. A smile that I could swear says he doesn’t hate lightning. He grabs hold of my hand.

“And here,” I say, turning toward my family, “are your embarrassing groupies, AKA the Sheppards.”

Jack puts his arm around his wife. “We’re Allreds, thank you very much.”

“And apparently about to have a Smurf halfling,” Siena says. “Please tell me you heard us cheering for you, Luca. Tell all of us this”—she gestures to her husband and our brothers—“wasn’t for nothing.”

“Oh, I heard you,” Luca says. “The whole team did.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper in shame.

“I loved it,” he replies as my dad comes in to give him a hug.

And honestly, I’m not sorry. Seeing him smile like this and joke with my family is a moment I’ll never forget, whatever happens between us.

We leave the stadium and grab ice cream with my family while my brothers recap every good play Luca had. Eventually, though, they have to start the drive home—Siena and Jack are staying with my parents for the night—while Luca and I head back to the house.

He’s extra quiet. When we get out of the car to head inside, he lets out a sort of grunt and cringes.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He puts a hand to his low back as we walk inside. “I got a helmet to the back during the game.”

I wince as I think of all the times he got hit. “You got a lot more than that from what I saw.”

A lopsided smile appears on his face. “I do wear pads, you know.”

“Yeah.” I close the door and put down my purse. “That’s like putting bubble wrap around a pumpkin and tossing it off the roof. Over and over. Here, lemme see.”

I don’t know what possessed me to say such a thing, but it’s not until Luca hesitates for a couple of seconds then begins pulling off his shirt that my reason returns.

It’s too late by then, though. The shirt is off.

I get a flash of sculpted shoulders, pecs, and abs before he turns. I suck in a breath.

A big, purple bruise is already forming on his left side below his ribs.

“Jeez,” I say in a hushed whisper, coming closer for a better look at the carnage.

He looks over his shoulder, winces, and turns away again. “How does it look?”

I grimace. “Like you got tossed off the roof. Without bubble wrap. It’s already very colorful.”

“Good.”

“Good?” I say incredulously.

“I hate when I get injured and have nothing to show for it.”

I laugh. “You’re so weird.” I put out a finger to touch the raised, purple area.

Luca flinches, drawing away from my touch as if I just pressed a hot iron to his skin.

“Oh—sorry,” I say, feeling immediately stupid. Did I hurt him, or does he not want me touching him?

“It’s fine,” he says, grabbing his shirt and, with intermittent flinching, starting to put it back on.

I clear my throat. “I’ll get you some ice,” I say, heading for the kitchen. I look in the freezer and grab one of the many ice packs he always has at the ready.

He comes walking in, and I hand the pack to him.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” I pause. “Do you need…help? That spot on your back can’t be easy to reach.”

He looks at me for a long second, as though weighing the offer, before he shakes his head. “I’ve got it. Thanks.”

“No problem,” I say, forcing a brightness into my voice that I don’t feel, a lump rising in my throat.

I didn’t imagine it. He doesn’t want me touching him.

I wish knowing that didn’t hurt so much.