Chapter 30 Luca
Luca
“WE LOVE YOU so much, honey,” Mom says, her voice cracking, and everyone on the call echoes her sentiment.
“I’ve got to go now,” I croak out.
When I bolted from Coach Parker’s office a few minutes ago, I headed straight for the not-yet-remodeled section of the facility—the old, shabby part that’s straight out of the eighties—since it’s hardly in use.
In short order, I found this old equipment storage room, the place busted tackling dummies and broken training sleds come to die, and locked myself inside it, grateful I’d found a hiding spot where I could call my family and surrender to my emotions in private.
Of course, I scoured the room for security cameras, just in case, and when it was obvious the coast was clear, I leaned against a large rack of banged-up helmets and sobbed my eyes out like a toddler.
After a while, once I was finally able to control my emotions, I forced myself to be a good son and brother and call my family, even though talking to anybody about my soul-crushing news, even my family, was the last thing I wanted to do.
But now that I’ve delivered the news of my life’s latest failure, I can’t get off this call fast enough.
With a curt goodbye, I disconnect the call, eager to banish all those anguished faces on my screen, and after stuffing my phone into my pocket, I wipe at my wet cheeks and eyes with my T-shirt and breathe deeply to get ahold of myself.
Once I’m not in danger of crying again, I wipe my face one more time and head to the door, eager to make my clean getaway from the facility. God help me, please don’t let anybody see me between here and my rental car in the parking lot.
Slowly, I crack the door open and peek into the hallway.
Chelsea.
Of course.
She’s standing mere feet away, wringing her hands and looking at me with heartbroken eyes. “I saw you go in there,” she whispers. “I just heard the news. Practice squad.” She winces involuntarily at those last words, confirming what I already figured: They’re a massive embarrassment to her.
“Not out here, Chelsea,” I grit out. I duck back into the equipment room, and she follows me and shuts the door behind her with a soft click.
After locking the door, she turns around and immediately comes at me with her arms outstretched, telegraphing her intention to wrap me in a warm, pitying hug.
I step back, shaking my head, and in response, Chelsea drops her arms and freezes in place.
If I’d made the roster, I would have enthusiastically accepted that hug from Chelsea, and a whole lot more than that tonight.
But as it is, I don’t want anyone’s pity.
Especially not Chelsea’s. Not after all the time, faith, and talent she poured into me.
She believed in me. Depended on me. And I let her down, along with myself.
“Aw, Luca. I know you’re feeling heartbroken. But—”
“Have you talked to Bellamy? I know I didn’t technically make the roster, but maybe—”
“He said the job is going to someone else. Some guy who interned for him last season.” She smiles thinly. “I’m sure he was his top pick all along.”
I’m sure she’s right about that. At the beginning of camp, it seemed like Bellamy was mildly in my corner.
But when I started giving Moriarty a run for his money during the preseason, it felt more and more like the general manager wanted me gone for making the huge payday he’d given Moriarty seem like a stupid decision.
“Would you stop dragging your feet about Roman’s analytics guy?
” I bark out, suddenly feeling weirdly enraged at her.
I’ve nagged her about calling that guy several times, ever since Roman came through with the number for her.
But the stubborn girl has continuously refused to make the call.
When I assumed I’d make the roster, I didn’t push all that hard, figuring everything would work out in the end.
But now that I’m a scrub, what the fuck is she waiting for?
“I’m not going to the Thunderbolts,” she says. “Or anywhere else. At least, for now. Not when we’ve still got so much work to do to get you onto that roster.”
I’m deeply touched to find out this is what she’s thinking about. Though not surprised. But quickly, I remember helping me isn’t in Chelsea’s best interest. On the contrary, I’m a useless anchor around her neck at this point.
“No, Chelsea. I refuse to be the reason you settle for a low-level coaching job you don’t even want, on a team that can’t ever get you where you really want to go. Make the fucking call, and do it today, because I swear to God, if you stay here, I’ll refuse to work with you anyway.”
She flashes me a look that feels equal parts rage and pity.
“Okay, first off, don’t tell me what to do, Luca.
I’ll make my own decisions. And second off, I’m allowed to have more than one dream, okay?
My mother always says life happens in chapters.
Well, right now, I’m choosing to live the chapter where I continue doing whatever it takes to get you onto that roster. ”
Anger flash-floods me. Shame and embarrassment, too.
Why won’t this woman give up on me? She’s too loyal for her own good!
Doesn’t she realize I’ll only feel better about this catastrophe, this fiasco of my own making, once Chelsea ditches my ass for good?
As painful as that will be, at least then, I’ll stop feeling like I’m dragging her down with me.
“We’re not dead yet, Luca,” Chelsea says with intensity. “If we work extra, extra hard—”
“There’s no we anymore!” I bellow. Saying those horrendous words to her feels like stabbing myself in the heart with a rusty shank, given all I’ve ever wanted is to be a “we” with Chelsea Parker and nobody else.
But I love her too much to let her waste another precious ounce of her talent and time on me, when she should be using both to chase her own goddamned dreams.
“You don’t mean that,” Chelsea whispers, her blue eyes blazing. “You’re feeling hurt in this moment, so you’re lashing out.”
“No, my mind is perfectly clear, actually. It’s time for our secret, forbidden fling to be over. It was fun and hot while it lasted, but it’s not going to serve either of us anymore.”
“Luca,” she chokes out. “No.”
“Yes. It’s for the best, Chelsea. Nothing lasts forever, especially something that was always meant to be temporary and totally unserious.”
Chelsea clutches her chest like I’ve shot her, and my heart feels like it’s ripping in two.
Tears prick Chelsea’s eyes. “You don’t want to see me anymore?”
I take a deep breath to steady myself. “Are you gonna call Roman’s guy at the Thunderbolts?”
With a wobbling chin, she shakes her head.
“Then, no, I don’t. If you stick around here for me, I’ll feel guilty about that, and I can’t afford that kind of a distraction.
Plus, I can’t waste valuable time sneaking over to see you every night, either.
There’s way too much at stake for me now, so I need to get serious and cut out all unnecessary distractions, including you. ”
“I’m an unnecessary distraction?” she echoes, and the flabbergasted, pained look on her face makes my heart squeeze painfully.
I feel desperate now. Like I’m clawing at the final frayed fibers of a lifeline. “If you truly won’t cut the cord and leave the Mastodons, then at least ditch my ass and work with someone else—a starter who can help pad your résumé and get you where you really want to go.”
She swallows hard. “You know very well there’s only one starter on this team who could help pad my résumé, Luca.
” Her chest heaves. “And if you’re instructing me to work with him, then you can go fuck yourself.
Not only because I can’t stand him, but because I still genuinely believe in you.
I know you don’t actually mean a single word you’re saying to me right now, Luca. It’s not possible.”
I take a step forward, feeling pissed at her for stubbornly sticking with me like this.
“Don’t be stupid. Whether you like him or not, Moriarty is your ticket out of here.
So, put your big-girl panties on and coach that motherfucker with everything you’ve got.
And hey, while you’re at it, you might as well fuck him with everything you’ve got, too, since that seems to be your most effective coaching strategy. ”
“Luca Maguire,” she spits out, clutching her chest.
“Unless my hunch is correct and you’ve already fucked him?”
The top of her head practically pops off with her outrage, and I have to admit, her reaction is more than warranted.
That was a low blow. Like dropping an atomic bomb when a cherry bomb might have done the trick.
But what else can I do at this point? I love this headstrong girl, desperately, and I want only the best for her.
Sadly, what’s best for Chelsea isn’t a washed-up practice player like me.
Her eyes flashing with restrained rage, Chelsea grits out, “You promised you’d never disrespect me again. You promised me, Luca.”
She’s right. I did. And I meant it at the time. But see, I said that in the Before Times. Back when I stupidly believed I’d make the roster and render myself worthy of her. Back when I thought I was a prince from a rival kingdom, not the fucking court jester.
“Well, promises are made to be broken, I guess.” Fighting back tears as I head to the door, I resist the urge to drop to my knees and apologize to her.
To beg for forgiveness, not only for everything I’ve said in this equipment room, but also for failing her when she needed me most. But I force myself to swing the door open and stride away without looking back.
Only a few steps into my journey down the quiet hallway, Chelsea’s commanding voice behind me compels me to stop and turn around. I want to walk away, but her tone is too forceful to ignore.
Clenching my jaw to keep my emotions at bay, I stare her down as she marches vigorously toward me, swinging her arms wildly and grunting angrily with each step she takes.
“How dare you,” she hisses, coming to a stop before me and looking up with fire in her blue eyes.
“Congratulations. You just got your wish, Luca. I’m done with you.
In fact, I’ll never even speak to you again, as long as I live, until you get down on your knees before me, apologize for every horrible thing you’ve just said to me, and beg for my forgiveness.
” She turns to walk away but changes her mind on a dime and whips around again.
“Until you do all that, Luca Maguire, I promise you this: The limit to how much you can go fuck yourself … does not exist!”