Chapter 3
ROCCO
Tony and Luca liked to give him shit about everything, and once they found out about him going out on a date with his therapist, they kicked it into high gear.
They seemed to enjoy taking turns asking him questions about doctor/patient confidentiality, and honestly, he had no answers for them.
He wasn’t sure if taking Luna on a date was ethical or not, but a part of him didn’t give a fuck.
She had turned his file over to her boss, Gia, who had reached out to him just that morning.
She introduced herself and said that she was going to be his new therapist, and that worked for him.
Although getting to know a new therapist was a pain in the ass.
He hoped that they wouldn’t have to repeat all the work that he had already done with Luna.
Starting back at step one would only dredge up shit that he didn’t want to remember.
He had already done all of that, and now he was ready to move forward.
He was nervous as hell when he was getting ready for their date.
He had to admit, it was hot the way that Luna took charge and asked him out.
She didn’t give him the option to turn her down, not that he would have.
If he was being honest with himself, he had developed feelings for Luna months ago; he was just too embarrassed to say anything to her.
Patients probably fell in love with their therapists all the time, right?
He didn’t want to tell her how he was feeling, only to be rejected, so he kept all that shit bottled up inside him.
And now, here he was, standing in front of her apartment door like some nervous kid on his first date, second-guessing everything from his shirt to whether or not he should’ve brought flowers. He hadn’t brought her anything because what the hell did you bring your therapist on a first date?
Nothing about this felt normal, and yet it felt completely right—too right.
The door opened, and every coherent thought in his head went straight to hell.
Luna stood there in a black dress, all curves and confidence, her dark hair falling over her shoulders, her lips slightly parted like she’d been waiting for him.
“Wow,” he breathed, because apparently his vocabulary had been reduced to one damn word around her.
She twirled, smiling, and something in his chest tightened hard enough to hurt.
Yeah—he was in trouble, deep fucking trouble.
“You look beautiful,” he breathed, trying to make more than one-word sentences.
“Thanks, you look pretty great yourself,” she said, looking him over, and he was suddenly relieved that he had gone with his sports jacket, instead of just tossing on a t-shirt. He lived in his gym clothes, but tonight, he decided to get dressed up and put his best foot forward.
The drive to the restaurant was quiet, but not awkward—not exactly.
Every time her bare leg brushed his hand when he shifted gears, every time she laughed at something stupid that he said, every time he caught her watching him when she thought he wasn’t looking—it all built, layer by layer, like pressure under his skin.
By the time he pulled into the parking lot, his jaw was tight, his hands flexing on the steering wheel, and he was overthinking every little detail of their date.
“Fancy,” she teased, looking up at the place. It wasn’t over the top, but it wasn’t a dive either. When he was thinking about where he wanted to take her for dinner, he decided to go somewhere in between.
“I didn’t know what you’d like,” he admitted. “I hope this is okay.”
Luna turned toward him, one brow lifting. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who second-guesses himself, Rocco.”
He huffed out a quiet laugh. “You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who lets a man take the lead, so I was kind of nervous about picking a place for us to eat. You’re not very easy to figure out.”
Her smile was slow and dangerous. “Maybe I like watching you try to figure me out.” Fuck. Yeah, he was definitely in trouble.
“Wait here,” he said as he got out of the truck and came around to her side, opening the door before she could even reach for the handle.
Old habits die hard. Respect was drilled into him long before the military ever got its hands on him.
His father made sure that he knew how to treat a woman before he could even tie his own shoelaces.
She held his gaze as he helped her down from his truck, his hands landing on her hips again. Her breath hitched, just slightly, but he caught it. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice lower than before, allowing his hands to flex against her body.
“I’m always careful,” she shot back, but there was something softer in her tone now—something real.
Inside, they were seated quickly at a small table that sat in the corner of the restaurant. It was almost too small for both of them. Their knees brushed under it almost immediately, but neither of them moved.
“So,” Luna said, picking up her menu but not looking at it, “are you going to interrogate me now that I’m not your therapist?”
He leaned back slightly, studying her. “Depends,” he breathed. “Are you going to charge me by the hour or by the question?”
She laughed, and that sound did something to him—something dangerous. “Neither,” she said. “Tonight, I’m just Luna, and can answer any question you have for me, free of charge.” He thought of her as just Luna—like their going on a date together was something simple.
He shook his head. “I guess it’s going to take me a minute to let my brain catch up with the fact that you are no longer my therapist, and we’re actually on a date.”
Her eyes flickered, something deeper flashing there before she masked it with a smirk.
“Careful, Rocco. You’re starting to sound like you’ve been thinking about me, overanalyzing everything.
” He didn’t answer right away because he wasn’t sure what to say, exactly.
His go-to move was to joke around, but he didn’t feel it was fitting for the circumstances.
Instead, he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.
“I have been overthinking everything about tonight, if I’m being honest,” he admitted. That wiped the smirk right off her face.
The waitress came over to their table, breaking the moment, and they ordered. He barely registered what he picked, because he was too focused on the way Luna kept glancing at him like she was trying to figure him out all over again—like she didn’t already know too much.
“That’s weird,” she said after the waitress left.
“What is?” he asked.
“Not knowing everything about you. I usually have the luxury of you telling me exactly how you’re feeling about things. But tonight, you’re not giving me much to go on,” she said.
He scoffed. “You don’t know everything about me.” That was pretty much a lie. She knew more than most people knew about him.
She tilted her head. “I know more than most people do about you, Rocco.”
“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “You do.” Silence stretched between them for a second.
“Does that bother you?” she asked. He thought about it—really thought about it.
Then he shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?” she questioned.
“Because you still showed up, so I can’t be all that bad, right?” he asked. Her breath caught again, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I did show up, and you’re right, you’re not that bad.” Their food came, but neither of them ate much. They talked instead about stupid things at first. She told him about her older brothers, and he told her about his friends at the gym.
But their conversation didn’t stay surface-level for long. It couldn’t, really, not with Luna already knowing him so well. “You don’t drink anymore,” she said at one point, watching him.
“No,” he breathed.
“Did you stop because of therapy?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Partly,” he admitted. He knew that not giving her the truth wouldn’t end well. Luna could tell when he wasn’t being completely honest with her.
“And the rest of the reason why you stopped?” she asked.
He met her eyes. “You.” That truth seemed to shake her a little, and he liked that he could still do that.
“You make me want to be better,” he added, quieter now. “Drinking took away my clarity, and I didn’t want to be that person anymore.”
Luna looked down at her hands for a second, then back up at him. “That’s a lot to put on someone.”
“I’m not putting it on you,” he said. “That’s on me. You just helped me see it.”
She swallowed, nodding slowly. “Good,” she said softly. “Because I don’t want to be your crutch, Rocco.”
He leaned forward again, his voice firm. “You’re not.”
Her foot slid up his leg under the table—slow and intentional. He could tell that she was testing him to see what he’d do next.
His breath went tight, his hand clenching on the edge of the table. “Luna,” he warned.
She smiled that same dangerous smile. “What?” she asked innocently. “I’m just seeing if you can handle me outside of a boxing ring.”
His eyes darkened. “You have no idea what I can handle.” Her breath caught again. And this time—neither of them looked away.