Chapter 32
Luca
I hang my head in shame as the doctor walks me through my injuries and the recovery time.
“You’re very lucky,” he explains.
He’s right. Given the severity of motorcycle accidents, walking away with a busted shoulder, road rash on my legs, and bruised ribs is nothing. Well, it’s a warning—but nothing that will ruin my life or career.
But it means League Valencia will be short a player for our finals in the Champions League and Coach Javi is going to fucking lose it when he learns the reason why. I know I’ll be hit with a huge fine, possibly even a team suspension.
Closing my eyes, I focus on the good news—my recovery time is short.
“You’ll be back to normal in about eight weeks. We’ll give you some antibiotics and ointment for the road rash. You’ll need to change those dressings one to two times a day,” the doctor continues.
“No problem.”
“Your ribs will heal in a few weeks. Just, take it easy. Sleep sitting up, propped by pillows, for at least a week.”
“Got it.”
“It’s your shoulder that’s the worst of it,” he confirms, glancing at my X-rays.
“Broken?” I assume the worst because my arm is hanging at a weird fucking angle and the pain was agonizing before the nurse pumped me with a strong painkiller.
“Dislocated,” the doctor breathes, tapping the X-ray. “I’m going to slide it back into place but first, we’ll give you a light sedative. After it snaps back in, we’ll have to immobilize it. You’ll be in a sling for at least a month, maybe longer.”
I nod, grinding my teeth. I hate the thought of being helpless for a month.
“Daily activities, like dressing, will be a challenge but—”
“I’ll be fine,” I cut the doctor off. It was my own fucking fault for crashing.
I took the curve too fast, my head twisted up and my body craving more.
I knew I fucked up before I cleared the turn, but it was too late.
My bike slid out from underneath me and I flew forward, slamming into the ground on the right side of my body. “I’m lucky.”
He nods and instructs the nurse to give me a sedative.
“Please! I need to see him,” Carla’s voice sounds out.
“Carla!” I holler, swearing as pain blazes through me.
The doctor gives me a look before popping his head out of the ER bay. “Here.”
A moment later, Carla rushes into the space, her eyes wide with worry. Her mouth drops open and horror washes over her expression the moment she sees me. “His arm! Tell me what’s wrong with him!”
“Cucciola.” I smile when I see her.
“The sedative is working,” the doctor says, clearing his throat. “It’s a dislocation. I’m going to slide it back into place. If you’d step out—”
“I’m not leaving him,” Carla cuts the doctor off and steps to my side, reaching for my good arm.
Fortunately, my leather jacket, gloves, and boots, protected most of my body, hands, and feet from further injury.
“Okay,” the doctor agrees. He steps closer and Carla shuffles back half a step. Taking my hand, the doctor begins to guide my arm through some movements. “You’re going to hear a sound, like a pop, and then it will slide back in.”
I nod. “This isn’t my first dislocated shoulder.”
“Great,” he snorts, his lips curling with humor.
Fifteen seconds later, a gross sound fills the air, and I grit my teeth, releasing a groan, as my shoulder slips back into place.
“That’s it.” The doctor grins. “We’ll get you set up with a sling and you’ll be out of here within the hour.”
“Thanks, Doctor. I appreciate you,” I say.
The nurse immobilizes my shoulder, binding it in a sling, as Carla shifts her weight beside me. The silence is stifling and I hate that she’s here, seeing me like this. Vulnerable, weak, and frustrated.
When the nurse leaves, I look at Carla. “You didn’t have to come.”
“I wanted to,” she says, sitting in the chair beside my bed. “I couldn’t even think, breathe, I—” she sighs. “I knew something was wrong when I couldn’t get in touch with you—”
“You were calling me?”
She nods. “We won. The girls won the regional final.”
I grin, turning toward her, but it quickly turns into a grimace as the shift cuts through my ribs. “Merda.”
“Take it easy,” Carla murmurs, placing a hand on my arm.
“Congratulations on the win.”
“You were the only person I wanted to tell,” she admits, her voice cracking.
“I kept looking for you in the stands, even though I knew you weren’t coming.
And when we won, I realized that the only person I want to share the news with is you.
I’m sorry, Luca. I pushed you away because I panicked.
The coaching, the call-up, the camp…it all got to be so big and all I could think about was, if I don’t give this opportunity my everything, will I ruin my career?
And if I don’t have my career, who am I? ”
“You’ll always be Carla García. Fútbol doesn’t define you.”
“I know that; I learned that this year. But the media and influencer assumptions that I’ve given up my career for yours, feeling like I was doing battle every day with Sergio, knowing that Alicante Atléticas is my best shot at playing for a Spanish club, it all compounded into this huge thing in my mind.
And I didn’t know a way forward where you and I still make each other a priority. ”
“It doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a give and take, a learning curve. But I wanted to try with you, Carla. And you just gave up.”
She averts her gaze. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” I try to sit up straight and grit my teeth as the movement jars my limbs. “I love you, Carla. But I don’t want, or need, your pity.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“Okay. Well, you can see that I’m fine. The recovery time isn’t bad, all things considered. I won’t be able to coach much at camp but we have a solid team of coaches. I can still oversee things and I trust that you and I can maintain a sense of professionalism there.”
“Of course,” she says, looking flustered.
I dip my chin. “Don’t you need to get some sleep? You leave for Alicante tomorrow morning.”
“I’m not going.”
“What?” I wheeze, then swear. “You have to go!”
She shakes her head. “I already left the coach a message on my way over here.”
“To say what?”
“That I had a family emergency and wouldn’t be there tomorrow. That I’d update her as soon as I could.” She shrugs, nonchalant.
“A family emergency? Carla, this is your opportunity, this is what you worked for. You can’t blow it off because I got into a little accident.”
“A little accident? I wouldn’t call destroying your motorcycle and skidding across the pavement like a skipping stone little, DiBlanco.
” Two patches of color dot her cheeks as her anger mounts.
“And I know what I worked for. I also know what I sacrificed. And dammit, Luca, I’m not willing to sacrifice you.
Or give up on us. So, I’m sorry that I freaked out and I’m sorry that I was selfish and pushed you away, but I’m in love with you, okay?
I love you, Luca. And you can spend the next two weeks bitching at me, but baby, I’m taking you home and I’ll be taking care of you.
” She’s nearly out of breath as she finishes her rant.
I stare at her, a little surprised, a lot turned on. But she doesn’t look embarrassed or ashamed or anything but…certain.
“I’m the caretaker,” I remind her.
“Not this time.”
“I don’t want you to miss your shot.”
“Too bad. Family first, remember?”
I snort, then close my eyes and nod. “Family first.” I open my eyes to find her peering at me. “Are you sure?”
“More than anything.”
I smile, relief flowing through me so strongly, it blocks out the discomfort that even the painkillers couldn’t mask. I lay my head back on my pillow and give her hand a little tug. “Then kiss me like you mean it, Carla. I almost died today.”
She shakes her head, but a genuine smile crosses her face. She stands and leans over the side of my bed. Placing a hand on the pillow next to my head, she dips and brushes her lips against mine.
“Missed your sweetness,” I admit.
“Missed you. Period,” she mumbles before adding more pressure to our kiss.
I lift my hand, the one attached to the IV, to cup her cheek and bring her closer. Now that she’s here, I don’t want even an inch of space to separate us.
“Oh, look, they made up,” Ale remarks dryly.
Carla turns and we both look up to find him and Andrés in the doorway.
“Like we didn’t see that coming,” Andrés replies, grinning. “It’s about time.”
Carla laces her fingers with mine and squeezes. I squeeze back.
“What did Coach say?” I ask my friends.
“He’s relieved you’re okay,” Andrés replies.
“But you still have a fine to settle,” Ale adds before clapping his hands. “Vale. Let’s get you home.”
I kiss the back of Carla’s hand and breathe a sigh of relief.
Home. With my cucciola.
I’m more than lucky. I’m grateful.