Chapter 22
Tilly
He is back.
Luca is finally back.
The apartment felt weird without him, but I realize it still feels weird.
I stand in my doorway and look at the view.
Everyone crowds around him, their voices overlapping.
Yana is squealing, Matt’s clapping his back, and Zara is hugging him.
I smile at the view.
If only my mind would snap back into place.
This is family. My family.
So why do I feel like a stranger?
When his eyes find mine, I feel like the ground disappears from under me.
Like, suddenly I’m falling down a tunnel with no bottom.
My knees feel weak, and I grab the door for security.
He smiles, and my stomach churns.
He walks toward me, and I feel like we are in an alternate universe.
Our surroundings disappear, all that exists is his ocean blue eyes.
“Hey,” I say, my voice coming out way too soft.
“Hey.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s good to be back.”
I want to hug him, to say I missed him, to ask if he is okay — but something about him is stopping me.
He looks distant. Like he’s here, but not really.
He finally looks away, breaking the spell we were in, when Matt slings an arm around him. “Man, you have to tell us everything. Italy, Nonna, the food–”
Luca chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that… there’s something I need to tell you all.”
I feel my stomach drop.
We all sit down, and the living room seems smaller than usual.
As if the walls are leaning in to hear what’s about to be said.
Luca stands in the middle, shifting his weight like he doesn’t know where to start.
“I, um, ” he exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I got an offer. From the Los Angeles Waves.”
No one makes a sound, although I’m convinced everyone can hear my heart beating like it’s my last day.
He looks up, eyes flicking between us. “They want me to join. In two weeks.”
My world stops spinning.
Two weeks.
America.
Dream team.
He’s leaving .
The rest of the group starts talking at once.
Every one of them is going on about how proud they are of him and how happy they are for him.
But I can’t hear any of it. My ears are ringing.
I look at him and smile, or at least I hope it’s a smile. “I’m so proud of you, Dreamer boy.”
He looks back at me, and I can swear something flickers in his eyes. But then it’s gone, replaced by that calm, practiced expression he wears when he doesn’t want anyone to see he’s hurting.
Without knowing it, that mask hurts me.
Because he’s not the mask type. At least he never was with me.
I was always the mess-up; he never needed to hide anything from me.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “It’s a big deal.”
I nod, pretending my throat isn’t closing up. “You deserve it.”
“Thanks, T.”
That shatters me.
***
Later, when everyone goes to celebrate with pizza and loud music, I slip away to Yana’s room.
She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through her phone.
When she looks at me, she puts her phone away and pats the bed. “You look messed up, Tilly. Come here.”
I shut the door and sit down next to her.
She puts a strand of my hair behind my ear and looks at me.
“He’s leaving.” I try to breathe normally, but I feel like everything is moving in slow motion.
She blinks. “Yeah, I know, but–”
“No, you don’t get it.” My voice cracks. “He’s leaving, Yana. Like for real. For good. He’s moving to L.A.”
She frowns, looking at me, confused. “Okay, but that’s a good thing for him, right?”
I nod, biting my lip until I taste metal. “Yeah. For him.”
Yana tilts her head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I pull my knees to my chest and put my head in my hands. “I messed up.”
“What do you mean?”
This feels nostalgic.
A month ago, Yana was telling me not to do exactly this, and here I am, screwing up like always.
“I told him I didn’t like him,” I whisper. “Twice.” My voice breaks, and I feel my tears fall, and as much as I try to stop them, they keep coming. “I’m just realizing just how much he means to me.”
Yana’s face softens. “Oh, Tilly…”
“I thought it was just friendship. When I imagine you and Zara gone, I feel sick. When I imagine Matt gone, I want to throw up.” I look at her.
“But when I imagine life without Luca, I can’t breathe.
My heart feels like it’s being squeezed in a tiny container, and my stomach threatens to spill my whole guts out.
When I imagine Luca across the whole world, I feel like a silhouette, and that’s just me imagining it. "
My eyes burn, and I notice blood oozing from the place I dug my nail in my hand. “It’s over.”
Yana leans back, crossing her arms. “Okay, no. I’m not letting you do this pity party thing.”
“Yana—”
“No.” She stands up, grabs my hand, and looks me dead in the eyes. “If you love him, tell him. Don’t let him leave thinking you don’t care.”
“I can’t–”
“Yes, you can. You always run when things get scary, but not this time.”
I swallow.
I feel my heart beat in sync with my brain screaming.
Wrong.
Right.
Wrong.
Right.
Wrong, wrong, wrong!
So why does it feel so right!
I nod and get up.
What’s left to lose?
My dignity, my morals, my heart, my mind–
She grins. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
The hallway feels endless as I walk toward Luca’s room. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
His door is half-open, light spilling out. I can hear his voice, soft and tired, talking to someone on the phone.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I’ll be there. I just have to say goodbye first.”
Goodbye.
My breath catches.
I freeze outside his door, my fingers hovering just inches from the handle.
I’m about to turn and run when his eyes lock on mine
“Tilly?”
His voice is soft, almost surprised.
Everything in me wants to bolt, pretend I don’t care, pretend my heart isn’t on fire.
But instead, I look at him.
And the words are right there, sitting on my tongue.
I love you.
I’m sorry.
Don’t go.
But nothing comes out.
I just stand there — caught between everything I want to say and everything I’m too scared to.
And then, before I can find my voice, he says, “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He looks at me for a long time before speaking. So long that I almost forgot how to breathe.
Then, finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, he says it.
“I wasn’t going to go, you know.”
My heart drops straight to the floor.
If a heart is a liquid, there’s no getting it back.
If my heart is made of glass, the million pieces crash so loud I feel my ears bleed.
I hear everything and nothing at once, as a bomb erupted inside my head.
The shattered pieces cut my skin, and everything becomes itchy.
I look at him, and it feels like gasoline is being poured on each cut.
He doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t even look sad—just tired.
The kind of tired that doesn’t come from lack of sleep.
“I told myself,” he continues, his gaze flicking to the floor, “if you give me a reason to stay, I will. But you didn’t.”
My world collapses. The axis on which it was spinning snaps.
I feel dizzy, and I feel myself falling to the floor.
It feels like the whole world tilts.
Like the air leaves the room and takes me with it.
I put my hands on the floor and let my neck give out.
My vision is playing games with me, like someone is playing with the light switch.
“Luca…” I whisper, my throat raw.
He looks at me.
The storm in his eyes is calm, but it’s there.
The ocean is no longer calm and peaceful.
I feel like I’m drowning, but this time no one is helping me out.
His eyes are wet, but his smile—his stupid, soft smile—stays. “It’s okay, Tilly. Really. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Don’t do that,” I say, my voice trembling. “Don’t pretend you’re fine.”
He shakes his head slowly. “I’m not pretending. I’m just done waiting for something that’s not meant to happen.”
That sentence splits me open.
“I didn’t mean to–”
“I know,” he says gently, cutting me off. “You never mean to.”
Silence.
The kind that makes your heart feel too big for your chest.
He looks down again, exhaling shakily. “I spent so long thinking maybe I just am not enough. That if I were better, funnier, calmer—whatever—you’d see me differently. But it’s not about that, is it? Some things just don’t fit, no matter how hard you want them to.”
My vision blurs.
I’m crying.
“Please don’t talk like that,” I whisper.
He smiled again, “I’ll be ok, Tilly. I always am.”
And then he brushes past me, gently, like I’m something fragile he’s afraid to break.
I don’t turn around.
I can’t.
I just stand there, staring at the wall, trying to swallow the ache clawing its way up my throat.
When I finally look over my shoulder, he’s gone.
My chest caves in.
It’s like the whole world goes silent except for the sound of my heartbeat, pounding way too fast, way too loud.
I stumble back to my room, every step heavier than the last.
When I shut the door, I slide down against it, my hands shaking.
And then I let go.
I can’t hear myself crying, but I feel the tears falling, and the icky feeling comes back.
The tears burn, and everything hurts.
I wasn’t going to go, you know.
His words won’t stop echoing in my head.
He would’ve stayed.
And I said nothing.
I want to tell him I love him.
I want to tell him I need him.
I want to tell him he’s the only way I can breathe.
I want so much that I can’t have, and the feeling of helplessness overwhelms me.
It’s too late. It always is.
And now all of it is just… gone.
I feel sick and selfish.
I should be happy for him. He can never stop talking about that team. He has an obsession with it.
His grandfather played on it.
What’s wrong with me!
I crawl into bed, pulling my blanket over my head like it can shield me from everything.
My chest aches in that raw, physical way, like something inside me is being ripped out slowly.
I keep hearing his voice in my head, calm but breaking.
If you gave me a reason to stay, I would.
I hate myself.
I hate this life.
I hate my stupid brain.
I hate my stupid heart.
Because there is no one to blame but me.
Tilly.