Chapter 32 Luca
Luca
“WHEN IS DADDY coming out?” my nephew, Maverick, asks with a tug of my sleeve.
Man, this kid is a balm for my tortured soul tonight.
Maverick is so wide-eyed about every little thing happening in this pregame stadium—from all the fans in Maguire jerseys packed into seats all around us to the hot dog and cotton candy he got to scarf down earlier to the cheerleaders with shimmering pom-poms who took the field a few moments ago—he almost makes me forget my heart-wrenching misery about Chelsea.
It’s the first game of the NFL’s regular season, and we’re at the Thunderbolts’ home stadium on a Thursday night. More specifically, we’re sitting in the front row of Roman’s fancy new box—the one he demanded with his hefty, record-breaking contract.
I keep telling myself being able to support Roman tonight is the upside of my new job as a lowly scrub.
That it’s actually a pretty cool perk to have so much free time on game days, since my job as a practice player is done each week after our last scrimmage.
But the truth is I’d give both my nuts to be suited up in a pregame locker room right now with my teammates.
Our whole family came to support Roman’s first outing as a Thunderbolt.
Other than Levi, that is. The Rebels are playing on the East Coast on Sunday morning, so my evil twin couldn’t make the trip out west. But my cousin Marco came tonight, along with his parents and Nicola, since Marco’s team, the Knights, are playing on Monday night.
It was a tight squeeze for Marco, but the trip from San Francisco to LA is a short jump, especially in a private plane, so he was able to pull it off.
“Any minute now, buddy,” I reply to Maverick, answering his question about his daddy’s imminent arrival onto the field. “So, get your hollering voice good and ready.”
“Oooh,” my nephew says, bopping in his seat. And somehow, despite the Chelsea-sized hole in my heart, I’m able to genuinely grin at my nephew’s exuberance.
I glance over Maverick’s head at Iris sitting next to him, and when she looks every bit as wide-eyed as my nephew about the chaos surrounding her, I tap her forearm and ask if she wants me to explain some more basics about the game.
As expected, Iris replies that she’d be grateful for yet another football lesson, so I launch into tutoring my eager student once again.
A few minutes later, an announcer bellows, “And nowwww, make some noise for your Thunderbolts!” Everyone gets onto their feet and cheers loudly.
But it’s what the announcer booms next that blows the proverbial roof off the open-air stadium: “Let’s hear it for Number Ten, your quarterback, Roman Maguire! ”
Right on cue, Roman emerges from an inflatable tunnel on the field, and the crowd’s volume and intensity shoots into the stratosphere.
“Daddyyyyyy!” Maverick shrieks, jumping up and down along with Iris, and I share a look with my parents down the row about their cuteness.
Man, I wish I were Roman right now. Not a quarterback, obviously.
I’d hate playing my big brother’s position.
But I’d give anything to experience the rush of running onto a game-day playing field while feeling adored by my fans and teammates and while also knowing for a fact I’m not in danger of getting cut or benched for making the slightest mistake.
Although granted, in my case, the mistakes have been massive.
After some hoopla, the game kicks off and I’m quickly swept into the action on the field.
In fact, I’m so focused on the game throughout the first three quarters, I don’t think of Chelsea more than a few times.
Twenty at most. But when the fourth quarter rolls around, and it’s now clear the Thunderbolts have the game in the bag, thanks to their three-touchdown lead, my mind fixates, without respite, on Chelsea, and the look on her face when I said that thing about her probably already fucking Moriarty.
My reasons for saying that last week were good ones.
Noble and kind ones. And I still stand behind them to this day.
But man, even though I know I did the right thing for Chelsea in the big picture, that doesn’t mean I’m not wallowing in selfish heartache now.
As my thoughts fill with nothing but Chelsea, Mom appears out of nowhere, jerking me out of my own head.
“Sit on Iris’s lap for me, Mavvy,” Mom instructs her grandson with a tap on his dark mop of hair. And when he complies, she takes his newly vacated seat next to me and grabs my hand. “How are you doing, honey?” she asks tenderly. She squeezes my hand. “You wish you were down there, huh?”
Uh-oh. She’s clearly gearing up to give me an unsolicited and highly unwanted pep talk.
“Please, don’t say it,” I blurt.
“Say what?”
“Whatever words of encouragement you’re cooking up in your motherly head.”
Mom purses her lips, signaling I’ve guessed correctly. With a deep sigh, she returns her attention to the game without releasing my hand, and we watch together as Roman’s backup takes the field to save my brother from potential injury during the final meaningless minutes of the game.
“Can I say one little pep-talky thing?” Mom says. “If I promise I’ll shut my mouth after that?”
I force myself not to roll my eyes. “Make it short and snappy.”
Mom pats my hand. “My darling boy—”
“And that’s a wrap, Mom. Thanks for the inspiring words. I’ll carry them with me always.”
“Would you listen to me?” She glances at Maverick on Iris’s lap. “For bleep’s sake, Luca. I know you better than you know yourself. Maybe, just maybe, I’ve got something to say that will help you.”
I exhale. “Fine. Go ahead.”
She inhales and exhales, gathering her thoughts. “My darling boy, I know you’re feeling devastated right now, but you’ll rise again, the same way you always do, because that’s who you are, Luca Maguire. You’re a phoenix. A fighter. A survivor.”
“Awesome. I feel completely better now. Thanks, Mom.”
“Oh, Luca.”
“I don’t want to talk about this, Mom. I just want to watch the game—”
“They’re three touchdowns ahead!”
“And forget about how badly I’ve fucked things up.”
“Bleeped them up.” She motions to Maverick.
“He can’t hear a word I’m saying. And even if he could, I think I’m entitled to use an f-bomb, even in his presence, considering how badly things are going for me in my life, top to bottom.”
“Top to bottom? Honey, you’re still alive! If you put your nose down and work hard, you never know—”
“You sound exactly like Chelsea. Back when she was still speaking to me, anyway.”
Mom gasps. “Chelsea’s not speaking to you?”
Fuck. Why’d I tell her that? Welp, I guess there’s no closing Pandora’s box now. I might as well tell her what’s going on. “Chelsea and I broke up. It’s over.”
“No,” Mom gasps out, looking aghast. “Why? What happened? What terrible thing did you do, Luca?”
I frown. “Why do you assume I did something bad?”
“Because she’s not speaking to you! Oh my God, Luca, this is a shocker. You two looked so in love and smitten at Roman’s party.” Mom pouts. “I’m so mad at you for whatever you did to piss her off, Luca. How could you?”
“I’m a rolling stone, Mom. A man can’t defeat gravity.”
She rubs her forehead, looking distressed. “When your Aunt Sofia told me that romantic story about you and Chelsea meeting in college, I thought for sure you two were fate.”
“What the fuck?”
“The bleep.”
“How does your sister know that story?”
“Nicola.”
I run a hand down my face. Of course, Marco told his wife the story after our call a few weeks ago, and Nicola then told her mother-in-law. I should have known that would happen.
“So, what terrible thing did you do?” Mom persists with a poke of my arm. “Did Chelsea want a serious commitment, and you got scared of your big feelings and did what you always do with every girl you’ve ever dated? You pushed her away and—”
“No, that’s not it. I really don’t want to talk about this with you.”
Mom gasps and whisper-shouts, “Did you cheat on her?”
I look around nervously, but nobody around us could possibly hear a single word above the din of the noisy crowd. “Of course not. If you know me better than anyone, as you claim, then you should know I’d never, ever do that. Least of all to Chelsea.”
Mom straightens up, looking equal parts relieved and determined. “Okay then, whatever you did to ruin things with Chelsea, it’s fixable. Go to her and apologize profusely for your stupidity. Tell her you made a huge mistake and you’ll never do it again. Do whatever it takes to get her back, Luca.”
I exhale. It’s all I want to do. All I’ve been imagining myself doing since I bolted out of the Mastodons’ complex following my blowup with Chelsea last week. But of course, I know that’s not possible. Not if I truly love Chelsea, which I do.
“I can’t do that, Mom.”
“Yes, you can! Luca, a girl like Chelsea Parker won’t come around again. She’s one of a kind. She’s one of us. And I’ve never seen you smiling that big in your life as when you introduced her around at Roman’s party.”
“Mom, stop. After I made the lowly practice squad, Chelsea kept insisting on sticking with me and trying to help me, instead of ditching my ass and following her own dreams. So, I rightly decided to say whatever it took to set her free for her own good.”
Mom stares at me blankly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I set her free. You know, ‘If you love something, set it free.’ That’s what you always say, so that’s exactly what I did.”
Mom’s mouth forms a perfect O as full understanding dawns on her. “You’re saying you love her?”
I look around again, feeling vulnerable and exposed, but once again, our surroundings are too loud for anyone to overhear us.
“Yes. Way too much to hold her back. She’s football royalty, Mom.
And I’m a scrub. She shouldn’t be with me, and we both know it.
So, I said what I needed to say to set her free to take a job opportunity Roman lined up for her.
” I explain the potential job opportunity briefly, and Mom looks unimpressed.
“So, it’s a networking opportunity, not a job offer?”
“Well, yeah. But you know Chelsea. To know her is to love her. One interview, and she’d get hired on the spot.”
Mom tilts her head. “What exactly did you say to Chelsea to ‘set her free,’ as you so brilliantly called it? How bad was it, Luca?”
“It wasn’t that bad.” Yes, it was, a voice inside my head retorts.
“Not in the big picture, anyway. I mean, yes, admittedly, it felt pretty damned awful as I was setting her free. But it had to be done.” I inhale deeply as memories of the devastated look in Chelsea’s blue eyes momentarily silence me.
“Luca, what the bleep did you say to her?”
“The specifics don’t matter. Chelsea was being really stubborn about the Thunderbolts opportunity, so I said something specifically designed to make her hate my guts—and it worked.
” My heart pangs. “Unfortunately, I think I overshot a bit and made her want to murder me in a brutal fashion, but at least it made her finally ditch my ass, like she should have done a long time ago.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Mom palms her forehead. “Luca Edward Maguire, you’ve been an idiot.”
Normally, Ava Maguire scares the hell out of me when she middle-names me.
But this time, I don’t care. My whole life is in shambles, so what more could she possibly do to me?
“Middle-name me all you want, Ava,” I throw out.
“My mommy being mad at me on top of everything else that’s gone wrong for me is a grain of sand on a never-ending beach of pain, baby. ”
Mom shakes her head. “Don’t you see? Chelsea would never, not in a million years, take a job with Roman’s team. Contributing her talents to help Satan of all people on his quest to finally win it all would be Chelsea’s personal idea of hell.”
“Huh.” The woman’s making sense. I certainly didn’t want to play for the Thunderbolts when I had the chance.
No, I wanted to make a name for myself on my own merits.
To step out of Roman’s shadow, once and for all.
And I know Chelsea feels the same way about her own success—she wants to earn it, fair and square.
“Also,” Mom says, “why would Chelsea ever want to owe a huge favor to Roman Maguire, of all people? Or for that matter to you—the man who said the horrible thing you won’t tell me and broke the poor girl’s heart?”
It’s a crushing thought, assuming she’s right about me breaking Chelsea’s heart. Surely, Chelsea had to understand where I was coming from, somewhere down deep, right? If not, then it’s no wonder my selfless plan backfired on me.
“Get her a job somewhere else,” Mom continues.
“Like with the Knights, for example, and I’m sure Chelsea will leap at the chance.
And once she’s working somewhere else, then you two can finally be together, out in the open, because you’ll both be working for different teams. True, the relationship will most likely need to be long-distance for a while, depending on where she ends up.
But wouldn’t that be better than the way things are now? ”
My mother’s a genius.
With my heart racing, I look toward where Marco’s been sitting down at the end of our row, but he’s not there.
Feeling dizzy with excitement to put this plan in action as soon as possible, I glance frantically around the box and locate Marco chatting near the buffet offerings in the back with Cameron.
“Oh! You should ask Cameron if he’s got a connection for Chelsea, too!” Mom blurts, following my gaze. “And Levi, too, to increase your odds of striking gold for her!”
“You’re a genius, Mom.” I kiss her cheek before rising from my seat. “Thanks.”
Feeling alive and hopeful for the first time since last week, I start my trek toward the end of the row.
Only a few steps into my journey, Mom calls out to my back, “Love conquers all, my darling Luca—even among Buckeyes and Wolverines!”