11. Sarah
Sarah
Ifinally look up from the table. Luca is already looking at me. I can’t read his expression, and somehow that’s worse. I handed him the ugliest parts of me. Before today, only two other people in the world knew what really happened that morning.
“Come here,” he says.
I swallow and shake my head.
“Sarah.”
It’s the firmest I’ve ever heard his voice. Luca almost never tells me what to do, but this isn’t a request.
I push my chair back and force myself to stand. Until now, I hadn’t given a second thought to the fact that I’m standing here in my underwear and Luca’s hoodie. Now I can’t stop thinking about it. I hook my fingers under the hem and tug it lower, wishing it covered a little more.
Luca waits for me. He’s close enough that I could reach out and touch him, but my feet feel strangely heavy crossing the space between us. The moment I stop in front of him, his hands find my waist. He eases me forward until I’m standing between his knees, then pulls me down onto his lap.
His hand slides to my jaw, and when my eyes drop to his shirt, he tips my chin back up until I’m looking at him again.
“Baby Girl,” he says. “None of that was your fault.”
I’ve spent eight years trying to believe that.
“Do you understand me?”
I nod as tears burn my eyes.
“This doesn’t change the way you see me?”
He stares at me for a second like he doesn’t even understand the question.
“Sarah,” he says quietly, “if that man was still alive, he wouldn’t be tomorrow.”
The sob tears out of me before I can stop it. I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face against him. He wraps both arms around me so tightly I can barely breathe, but I don’t want him to let go. I bury my face against his neck and cry harder than I have in years.
His hand moves slowly through my hair as another sob tears through me.
“I’m here, Baby Girl.”
Eventually, my breathing begins to even out. My face is still buried against his neck when I whisper, “You really don’t see me differently?”
“I do.”
My stomach drops.
“I love you even more than I did an hour ago.”
I stare at him. A tear slips down my cheek.
“Luca...”
“I look at you and see a seventeen-year-old girl who should’ve been worried about school and boys and what college she wanted to go to.”
His jaw tightens.
“Instead...” He shakes his head once. “You were trying to survive something no kid should ever have to survive.”
His thumb brushes another tear from beneath my eye.
“You know what I see when I look at you?”
I swallow.
“The strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
I let out a shaky breath.
“I don’t feel strong.”
“I know.”
He says it so quietly it almost breaks me again.
“I know you don’t.”
He rests his forehead against mine. Silence settles between us.
“I’ve killed people,” he says after a moment. “I’ve done things I’ll have to answer for one day. Every single one of those choices was mine.”
He cups my face with both hands.
“What happened in that barn wasn’t a choice.”
I close my eyes.
“You didn’t wake up that morning planning to kill somebody. You woke up planning to feed horses.”
A broken laugh escapes me through fresh tears.
“You were seventeen.”
His voice cracks for the first time.
“You were a kid.”
His jaw flexes.
“I’m so fucking sorry you went through that without me.”
Fresh tears spill down my face.
“I wish I could go back and change it.”
“So do I.”
He pulls me against his chest again.
“But I can’t.”
His lips brush the top of my head.
“So I’ll settle for making damn sure you’re never alone again.”
He holds me for another minute before finally loosening his arms. His hands linger on my waist as he looks down at me.
“Go sit on the couch for me.”
I blink.
“What?”
“Go sit down.” He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll clean up.”
“Luca, I can—“
“I know you can.” His thumb grazes my cheek. “You’re not going to.”
Before I can argue again, he presses a kiss to my forehead and helps me off his lap.
“Couch.”
I shake my head, but I don’t argue again. I make my way into the living room and settle onto the couch, tucking my legs beneath the blanket draped over the arm.
Luca carries our bowls into the kitchen. He scrapes the last of the chili into the trash before rinsing the bowls and loading them into the dishwasher. He washes the pot by hand, wipes down the counters, then dries his hands on a dish towel.
I watch him the entire time. He catches me staring once, but neither of us says anything. A minute later, he turns off the kitchen light and walks into the living room.
Luca settles beside me on the couch, one arm stretching along the back cushions. For a minute, neither of us says anything. The television stays dark. The only sound is the steady rhythm of the waves beyond the windows.
I tuck my feet beneath me and turn toward him.
“I was looking at master’s programs earlier today.”
His eyes shift to mine.
“Oh, yeah?”
He turns his body toward me and rests both hands on my legs beneath the blanket, his thumbs brushing over my knees.
I nod, smiling.
“USC has a counseling program.” I smile a little. “I’ve been thinking about going back.”
A grin spreads slowly across his face.
“Baby Girl...” He squeezes my legs gently. “I think that’s a hell of an idea.”
I let out a small laugh.
“I do too.”
My smile fades just as quickly.
“The only problem is...” I shrug. “I’d have to quit the bar. Between classes and clinical hours, there’d be no way to keep working the schedule I have now.”
I look down at my hands.
“I wouldn’t be able to support myself.”
Luca is quiet for a second. Then he chuckles softly, so I look back up. He reaches over and brushes a curl away from my face.
“Baby Girl, I’ve got you.”
“Luca...”
“I’m serious.” His hand finds mine. “Go chase the life you’ve been putting off. I’ll take care of the rest.”
I stare at him, emotion climbing into my throat.
“You’d really do that?”
He gives me a look.
“Sarah.” His thumb brushes across my knuckles. “There isn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do for you.”
For the rest of the week, Luca is super busy.
He doesn’t give me the details, but since he finally told me what he does for a living, he doesn’t try to hide the damage anymore.
Two nights ago, his suit was dotted with blood spatter, his knuckles were split open, and he had a cut above his eyebrow.
I didn’t ask where the blood came from or who it belonged to.
I simply helped him out of his clothes, threw them in the wash, and rubbed antibiotic cream over his knuckles.
I called the bar on Tuesday to let them know I was resigning.
Since Luca and I are leaving for Montana tomorrow for five days and heading to the Bahamas two weeks later, Rick laughed and told me not to bother coming back.
Part of me was disappointed I wouldn’t get one last shift with everyone.
I’d spent three years behind that bar. It had become home in a lot of ways.
But another part of me couldn’t ignore the excitement bubbling beneath the sadness.
I finally had the time to finish my USC application, pack for our trip, and deep clean the house before we left.
Michael has given Luca the next five days off to come with me.
I’m grateful he can, but five days doesn’t feel like nearly enough.
I haven’t seen my parents since Easter, and now it’s already the end of September.
We have dinner with Luca’s mom, his sister, and practically the entire Amato family almost every Sunday.
I know it’s different—they’re only fifteen minutes away—but I still miss my parents.
I want my parents to meet the Luca I’ve fallen in love with, not just the one they’ve heard about. I want Luca to experience the ranch, the mountains, and all the little places that still feel like home to me. Five days feels far too short.
“Hey, Baby Girl,” Luca says as he walks into the bedroom.
I jump hard enough to press a hand against my chest.
“Shit.”
He smiles.
“Do you ever announce your fucking presence?”
“Sarah,” he says, laughing. “I live here too.”
“Doesn’t mean I was expecting you to walk in here.”
I glance at him, and the smile he’s trying to hide tells me he’s absolutely making fun of me in his head.
Without saying another word, he picks up both suitcases.
“Come on,” he says. “The car’s here.”
“I still don’t understand why Enzo is driving us.”
He lets out a quiet laugh. “We can’t leave my car at the airport.”
“Why? I do it all the time when I fly home.”
He sets the bags on the floor before wrapping his hands around my waist and pulling me close.
“Sarah, it’s a little different.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His eyes stay on mine.
“What?”
“My last name’s Amato.”
The realization settles over me.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, Baby Girl.”
He brushes my hair away from my face.
“I know this is still foreign to you, but there are people who would kill me just because of my last name.”
I swallow hard.
“I don’t like that.”
His thumb brushes my cheek.
“I know, but it’s true. There are people out there who want revenge against Michael. Against me for the things I’ve done.”
I swallow.
“That’s really scary.”
“Yeah.”
His eyes search mine.
“You still wanna do this?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
I nod.
“I’m sure. I love you, Luca. I don’t want to do life without you.”
A small smile tugs at his lips before he kisses me.
“Good.”