Chapter 5 Nicola #2
“Like I could do anything,” she whispered. “Like I was invincible. And that…scares the hell out of me.”
We sat in silence for a second, only the sound of Gia’s little giggles and a bird rustling overhead.
I nodded slowly. “You’re falling for him.”
Lucia swallowed.
God, I knew that feeling. I had fallen for the wrong men over and over again. It was like I was a magnet for them. I understood the ache of wanting something to be safe and good, but being terrified that it can’t last because it never had for me.
“He makes me feel seen, Nic. But also…I keep thinking, what if I’m wrong again? What if I’ve got no business trusting my heart after what happened with Josh?”
At the mention of her ex’s name, a slow heat built in my chest. Rage—protective rage at anyone who would make Lucia feel small or unworthy.
“I let him in, and it tore me apart,” Lucia said, voice smaller now. “He made me believe love meant sacrifice. Silence. Shrinking.”
She blinked hard, looking up at the sky.
“And now, when Alexander says something kind, or when he’s just there…
when he remembers my coffee order or reaches out to hold my hand when I need steadying, God, I don’t know what to do with it.
It’s so easy to give love, Nic. I can do that all day.
But receiving it?” Her voice cracked. “That’s harder.
Like I don’t know how to hold it without dropping it.
I’m broken when it comes to relationships. ”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Then softly said, “You’re not broken, Lucia.”
She looked at me.
“You’re cautious. And you have every right to be. But just because one man made you doubt yourself doesn’t mean every man will.”
“I’m scared he’ll change,” she said.
“Alex is different, he’s the type of good not many men are,” I replied gently.
Alexander Wight was a good man, a responsible one at that, despite whatever the media was spinning.
It felt rare out in a minefield of dating men in the motorsport world.
But if anyone was worthy of my best friend, it was him.
“Besides, you’re trying so hard to be invincible, you forget that the strongest thing you can do is let someone love you while you’re still healing. ”
Lucia’s eyes glistened.
“I don’t want to need anyone,” she whispered.
“You don’t need anyone, but it’s okay to want someone.”
She leaned her head on my shoulder, and we sat that way for a long time, watching Gia run through a patch of sunshine, arms wide, hair flying behind her like a little comet made of joy.
Lucia sighed again, softer now. “I wish I believed in forever the way she does.”
I smiled faintly.
“Maybe we don’t have to believe in forever yet,” I said. “Just…today. One good day at a time.”
Lucia squeezed my hand.
We met up with Alexander at our hotel before their planned fake dinner date, and Lucia looked every inch the PR fantasy—glossy hair, radiant smile, the kind of dress that made Alexander stare at her with those soft eyes.
Gianna clung to her leg, then made a beeline for Alexander, who scooped her up to say hi.
“You sure you’re okay watching her?” Lucia asked for the third time as we traded off the diaper bag and an emergency snack pouch.
“She’s basically my godchild at this point,” I said, ruffling Gia’s hair as she beamed up at me. I lowered my voice. “Go on your fake date and get dessert and maybe accidentally kiss while you’re at it.”
Lucia rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed. “We’ll be back before midnight.”
Back in the hotel suite, Gia and I played a high-stakes game of Stuffed Animal Royal Court. She appointed me as the queen and then immediately overthrew me in a surprise coup led by a sparkly giraffe. By the time we got to bubble bath negotiations, I was winded.
“Okay, okay,” I said, toweling her hair. “Time to relax. Maybe we put on a movie, hmm?”
She nodded, yawning as she curled into my side with a juice box like a tiny dictator at peace. I had my laptop out doing some research on charities along our racing route when a knock sounded at the door.
I frowned. Lucia wouldn’t be back this soon, would she? I slid off the couch while Gia sat glued to the princess movie and walked to the door.
When I cracked the door open, I was met with a familiar soft scent of warmth and spice.
Matteo.
With takeout bags and that smug little tilt of his mouth like he knew I’d open the door and wouldn’t slam it in his face.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper-shouted, glancing over my shoulder.
“Feeding my niece,” he said, breezing past me without invitation. “Also, checking on her captor.”
“Sure, yeah come on in.” Sarcasm dripped from each word.
“You’re welcome,” he said, tossing a bag on the table. “Got those truffle fries you like.”
I hated that he remembered that. I hated that I was hungry. I hated—
“I’ll grab plates.”
By the time Gia was asleep—snuggled between us in a sea of plush animals and holding the juice box like a teddy bear—Matteo and I were sitting on opposite ends of the hotel couch, the leftover fries between us. It was quiet and almost pleasant.
“Lucia looked happy today,” I said eventually.
He nodded, face turned toward the dark TV screen. “Yeah.”
“You’ve been watching her like a hawk.”
“She’s been through hell.” His voice was lower now. His honesty was giving me pause; I hadn’t heard him like this before. Something ached under my ribs at the emotion rolling off of him. “I thought…maybe bringing her here would help. You know, remind her who she is when she’s not stuck at home.”
I blinked.
That was not the Matteo I was expecting tonight.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I just want her to laugh again. Like she used to. When we were kids, she was always the brave one.”
“She still is,” I said quietly.
He looked at me then. Really looked.
The air shifted again, heavier now. Warmer. Threaded with tension but no longer sharp.
“You’re good with her,” I added, looking down at Gianna who was fast asleep, because I didn’t know how not to say it. Matteo with Gia was enough to make any girl’s heart do summersaults. It was sickening.
His gaze softened. “She’s my favorite.”
I rolled my eyes. “Charming.”
“I have my moments.”
We sat in the silence that followed, full of things neither of us knew how to say.
Eventually, I reached for another fry. Our fingers brushed.
I should have pulled away. Rolled my eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of it, he probably placed his damn hand there on purpose. I should have said something sharp, maybe, or tossed in one of my usual jabs to keep the distance exactly where I liked it.
But I didn’t.
I just let it happen. His fingers were warm. Steady. Not lingering, not purposeful. But the contact left a spark in its wake that crawled up my arm and lodged somewhere stupid, like my throat.
He didn’t say anything either. Just let me steal the fry.
The glow from the hotel room was soft and gold, shadows curling around the corners. Gianna was a little bundle of sleep on the couch, her stuffed bunny tucked under her chin.
“I used to think,” Matteo said, voice quiet now, “that being a good brother meant protecting her from the world.”
He exhaled, leaning back against the couch.
“But lately…I don’t know. I think maybe it’s about standing beside her when she faces it. Not stepping in front all the time.”
I glanced at him. He was looking at Gianna again, his jaw tighter now. There was a kind of grief in his eyes I wasn’t ready for.
“Is that why you wanted her to come on the road for the rest of the season?” After summer break, when Matteo had returned with his sister and niece in tow, he told everyone on the paddock that they were a part of the racing family and to look out for them.
He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I thought maybe if she saw the world again—saw herself in it—she might start to feel like she could take up space again. Not just survive, but…breathe.”
There was a thud in my chest. A slow, aching resonance with what he said—a part of me that recognized the weight of trying to be okay for everyone else and forgetting how to be okay for yourself.
“She’s lucky to have you,” I said, and I meant it.
But Matteo shook his head.
“She’s the one who saved me first, you know? When I was a dumb kid with a bad attitude and no real direction. She kept me grounded. It reminded me who I was.” He paused. “Sometimes I think I drive the way I do because I’m always chasing the version of myself she believed in.”
I studied him, lips parting, because I didn’t think I’d ever heard him talk like this.
Not the cocky, swaggering Matteo DeLuca the world saw.
Not the one who called me princess just to get a rise out of me.
This version was quieter and more open in a way I hadn’t seen.
Everything felt like a performance with him because he was all charm.
Seeing that sadness linger, feeling it in his words, it struck something deep in my chest, pulled at a damn heart string.
Because that picture I kept of him made me not like him.
But that man in front of me was different.
Like I was seeing him for the first time.
“You’re a better man than you pretend to be,” I murmured, seeing the cracks of someone who also put on a mask for the world.
His gaze snapped to mine, and I immediately regretted saying it. Not because it was untrue. But because the look he gave me in return felt like an unraveling.
Matteo leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes still locked with mine.
“Why do you hate me so much, Nicola?”
I blinked.
“I don’t hate you.”
He smiled faintly. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“It’s easier,” I admitted before I could stop myself. “To pretend you get under my skin for all the wrong reasons. To write you off as a reckless driver with too much charm and not enough substance.”
He didn’t flinch. He just waited.
“And is that still what you think?” he asked, voice soft now.
I looked away. “No.”
A beat passed. Two.
“But that’s what scares me.”