Chapter 17

Luca

L ocked in my little hut that faced the ocean, smelled like dirty socks, and offered as much isolation as one can have when rooming with a loved-up couple like Teddy and Ash, I pushed all thoughts of women, and sex and anything other than hockey out of my brain. Sure, I still sulked, dodged teammates, Mom’s and Anabella’s calls, and ignored invitations for dinner and beach cricket, but I also meditated, stretched and worked out. Focusing on edgework for the first time, testing just how far I push my mobility. Three days passed just like that, but on the fourth day, when Ana called for the third time in twenty minutes, and I had run out of clean underwear, I knew the season of moping was over and I picked up.

“How you feeling, baby bro?” she asked after chastising me for ten minutes of our call. “How’s the foot?”

“Foot’s good. I’ve followed the trainer’s instructions to the T, and it’s paid off. I feel strong. Good…”

“But… I can hear a but coming, Luca.”

I rolled my eyes, hating that she knew me so well.

“But mentally… I dunno. I’m too soft, Ana. Like really, why do we need to have emotions? I would rather feel nothing.”

“Luca.” Ana groaned, her voice dulled by frustration. “You are a beautiful, trusting soul who needs to snap the fuck out of fairytale land and dive back into reality. I have told you this before. People, in general, are assholes. Your girl, Polly, is not the exception to the rule, and there is nothing wrong with having feelings. You have to learn to pace yourself and not fall in love with every Tom, Dick, and Sally who wriggles their dick or bats their lashes at you.”

“You’re right. Polly does have nice lashes.” I sighed, picturing their delicate fluttering as I brought her undone on my tongue.

“Oh, god.”

“And you’re right about the other stuff, too.” I added with haste, “I think I’ve finally realized what an absolute shithouse judge of character I am. I become besotted too quickly, trust too freely, and think too infrequently.”

“I agree one hundred percent with the first two but will argue the third till my throat bleeds. You are not stupid, and you have to stop telling yourself you are.”

I snorted and took another sip of my beer. “Ahh, didn’t say I was stupid. Just that I didn’t think a lot.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Maybe I’m too stupid to know.”

The last call I had with Ana was another that ended with her hanging up in frustration. I was beginning to expect this one would be no different. I was wrong. In hindsight, her patience should have been a red flag.

“Speaking of stupid people, have you heard from or anything about Clara?” she asked.

I waited for the dagger-twisting-into-my-heart feeling to arrive, but it never came. Hmm. “Nope … why? Have you? Did she contact you looking for me?”

“Pfft. Like she’d contact me. She knows I’d cut her.”

“Yeah, sure.” I laughed. “Why ask about her then? You never bring her up. She’s like Voldemort, she who must not be named.”

“Oh. Um. No reason. Hey, Ma’s out with Abi, but asked me to ask you, if you’re still coming home on the same date. I think they’re planning a welcome home party.”

“Oh god.” An instant headache throbbed at my temples. Ma and Abi Kim were a more formidable duo than Rachel and Anabela. A party with them and God knows who else they invited, was my worst nightmare. “Yep, but for the love of God Ana. No party. I just want to come home and focus—.”

“On hockey. Yes, we all know you want to get back on the ice, but you have to remember Ma has been worried sick about you, and Abi’s the same with the boys. Let them have this.”

“Fuck. I’m tired just thinking about it.”

“Yeah, well, you know what I am?”

A precursory snort slipped from my throat. “Nosey and annoying.”

“Yes, and proud. You were a wreck when you got there, Luca. But you’ve worked hard, rehabbed, and got yourself fit. You still have a lot to face, and there’s no doubt you’re still a mess, but you’re a healthier mess.”

The backhanded compliment churned through my brain then came to a clunking halt. “Hey. What did you mean, still have a lot to face?”

Apart from the clicking of her tongue, Ana fell silent. “Ahhh … Coming Mom!”

“I know she’s not there, Ana. You just told me she was out with Abi Kim.”

“She just got home. Has heaps of bags to carry. Ohh, she almost fell, love ya gotta go.” The Ohhshealmostfellloveyagottago came out as one rushed, panicked word. What wasn’t my sister telling me, and what other nightmare did I still have to face?

My gentle ease back into society was dinner with seven adults and seven kids squished around a giant table that Finn, a man who seemed good at everything, handcrafted for occasions such as these. It was nosy, chaotic and intimidating, and the reason why I volunteered to ‘make a pub run to the bottle-o’… once I was told what that meant.

In Australia, drive-thru bottle shops/liquor stores were remarkably convenient and, as such, could be found everywhere. Unfortunately, the closest one to Finn and Scarlett’s was attached to the pub where Polly and I had defiled the office just a few short days ago.

For them, it was a no-go zone. For me, the ride gave me an extra workout and the chance to face the itch I shouldn’t scratch.

Perhaps the old, lure of the forbidden, drove my lingering need to see her.

If so, it wasn’t a new thing.

In my last two years of college, I’d mostly been with men, and it wasn’t based on sexual preference. It was the risk. It was the same as the night I got snapped by the paparazzi. I could have hooked up with any, or all of the willing girls at Dallas’s party. But getting caught made the sex drought ending—potentially reputation-ruining three-way even more irresistible.

Despite the warnings, history was repeating itself.

All I wanted was what I shouldn’t have.

As I wheeled into the drive-thru, my hands dangling at my legs like a true stud, a thought popped into my head. Polly had made a valid point while blowing that lollypop on the beach. I had been privy to only one side of the story. Despite my sister’s insistence that most people were assholes, and Evie’s certainty that Polly was the devil reincarnate, I needed to hear her version of the truth before I left.

I had planned to park my wheels in the drive-through, then sneak into the main bar where I’d watched Polly move and flirt with a confidence that made me want her even more. There I would scope her out from the shadows, only approaching when I worked up the courage, or when she busted me. But Polly, standing behind the counter in a long plaid sweater dress that barely covered her ass, black tights, and doc martens, was the first thing I saw. Her face was buried in a book, its cover featuring some guy with abs much less impressive than mine.

Wobbling to a halt, the squeak of my tire against the stained concrete floor alerted her to my presence. Slamming the book closed, she groaned. “Jeremy, we’ve been through this before. I can’t serve you on your bike.” “Oh, umm … It’s not Jeremy.”

Before she’d even looked up, her teeth sunk into her plump bottom lip, a devilish smirk forming when she did. “Howdy, Cowboy. Where are you off to all dolled up and on your big boy bike?”

“It’s not a big boy bike.” I snapped, irrationally pissed. I’d come to hear her out, and she was giving me sass? “It’s a racer. And I’m not dolled up, either.”

“You’re pretty bloody touchy, though. Now stop being a sook and answer the question.”

My scowl deepened. “If you must know, Scarlett and Finn are hosting a dinner party, and since I’m the only single loser invited, I volunteered to do the ‘pub run to the bottle-o,’ as Nate called it.”

Nodding, Polly pulled a chair out from behind the counter and tilted her head in its direction. Like the simp I was, I obeyed, sitting without question while she remained standing.

“A dinner party, hey? That sounds nice. People never invite me to those things.”

“Maybe if you dropped the bad girl routine, people would?”

She scoffed like I’d just told her the moon was as purple as that new hot streak in her hair. “Any chance of that happening sailed the minute I wronged the angel of Byron Bay. Also, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” I knew exactly what.

“All moody while condescendingly batting your lashes.”

“I didn’t even know I could bat my lashes.” I absolutely did, and it was the best weapon in my charm arsenal. “How could I do it condescendingly?”

“You know, like this.” Once again, proving she had the upper hand and that I was royally screwed, Polly tilted her head and fluttered her long, dark lashes so fast I could barely see them.

My cock turned to stone. “Huh, hmm.” I cleared my throat, went to stand then thought better of it. I’ll need at least five minutes to get rid of this bad boy. Turning away from the sexy girl, I focused on frosted glass doors of the meters long fridges and reminded myself of the no-go zone she was at the center of.

Contemplating the extensive beer selection left us in awkward silence, the dull whir of traffic on the main road and bursts of laughter wafting from the bar the only sounds. Fidgeting in my seat, I watched her from the corner of my eye, grinning, just waiting for me to break like the damn fool she knew I was. “Why are you out here and not inside?” I asked, proving her right two beats later. “And why are you always working and not out having fun with your friends?”

For just a moment, the ice-queen mask slipped, revealing a brief glimmer of sorrow before she managed to replace it. “I don’t have any.”

That confession, and the accompanying thought of Polly being lonely took up an uncomfortable amount of space in my chest. “But… haven’t you lived here your whole life?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, why no friends?”

Shifting on her feet, she shrugged and began fiddling with a display of bottle openers. “Dunno. Maybe I’m just a bitch?” In response to my glare, she rolled her eyes and shrugged again. “I can’t be sure, but it may be the same reason I never get invited to dinner parties.”

“What about in Sydney? You and Luna … umm. When … you know, how we met, and how she brought me here to see you. She’s your friend, at least?”

“Oh, right, Luna. The girl who drove you here. The girl whose pussy I ate while you fucked me from behind.”

Mentally adding five minutes to the boner timer, I shook my head. “Yeah, trust me. That never happened.”

“Huh. Maybe that was just in my dreams. Anyway, she’s a friend, I guess. I met her at the deaf organization I volunteer at. We party and go to poly clubs together, but she’s got herself a sexy doctor now so the whole fuckbuddy phase is done. And after bringing you here, the buddy bit might be over, too.”

There was a lot to process, but predictably, the words poly scene were the ones to flash before my eyes like a busted-up neon sign. One or two of my teammates were solo poly, so I knew the basics. But still, I wanted to ask. Polly, are you poly? My cock begged for the answer, but my brain held steadfast, knowing the less I knew about Polly Hart and the sexually liberated lifestyle she chose to live, the better.

Another awkward as fuck silence descended. Polly made it more painful. “You can ask, you know.”

“Ask what?”

“If I’m poly. I can see the question glowing in your eyes.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. I’m hot. It’s hot, put two and two together and it’s hot as fuck. But I’m not sure if I’m poly, though. I’m definitely bi … and a slut for threesomes with two guys, girls, or theys, hence my popularity at the clubs. But relationships are a whole other kettle of fish. I really admire the poly-couples I’ve met. They have so much trust and love to give, while I just prefer to give fucks.” I almost choked on what little saliva was not pouring down my chin. “Happiness with one person seems impossible to me, let alone multiple.”

I thought of Clara and the pressure I felt to make even our fake relationship work. “I get that.”

“You do?”

“Sure. I don’t know how much you know about the NHL, but we players are notorious man-whores. It’s hard not to be. More often than not, you’re spending the majority of your time away from home with stinky, gap-toothed teammates, missing friends, and romantic interests. It can be really lonely. And pardon the pun, but puck bunnies and stick rabbits can fill that void nicely.”

Polly’s book slipped from her grasp. “What the hell are puck bunnies and stick rabbits?”

“Hockey super fans—well, more hockey player super fans, really. The bunnies are the girls, the rabbits the boys, and they spend their lives following teams around, frequenting their games, favorite nightclubs, and beds.”

“Ahhh. I see. And these vermin, do they frequent your bed?”

“For a little while, they did. It’s almost expected. A rite of passage, and undeniably hot, but for me, the fake smiles and random hookups got old pretty quick.”

Dark eyes with flecks of gold only visible in this light, narrowed as she studied my face. “Considering how we met, I have no idea why I believe you, Mr. D’Cruz, but I do. Maybe it’s those damn dimples.”

My winning crooked smile, the one that had cost dozens of sponsors millions of dollars to secure, was given to her for free. “They are pretty cute.” Our eyes locked in a heated gaze, one that intensified as Polly sidled up beside me, those lashes working overtime.

“From memory, you possessed another set of dimples that were pretty cute.” Eyeing me up and down, she wet her bottom lip, then pulled it between her teeth. It was a look of pure objectification, one instantly locked away for long lonely nights spent alone.

“Well, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Miss. Hart.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you do.” Bending down to face level, she stabbed her long, lilac nail into my cheek and winked. “Now, did you come here to flirt with me, ask me pointless, sexy questions, spy on me for your friends, or buy some plonk?”

“Plonk?”

“You know. Alcohol. Booze. Grog. Uncork, guzzle guzzle.”

“Oh. Right. That one. But also the second one I think it was. The question one. It might be none of my business, but if you’re willing to share your story, I’m willing to listen.”