Chapter 33 Carla
Carla
I spend a week living with Luca, changing his dressings and caring for him.
I cook his favorite foods—with Bianca offering culinary tips to guide me.
I spend my nights curled into his side, watching old movies, before tucking him into bed.
In short, I play the best version of a caretaker that I know how and still, I imagine it pales in comparison to Luca’s expert abilities.
But I savor my time with him, enjoying each coffee, kiss, and conversation we share. I don’t think about fútbol much, which surprises me.
Clearly, the accident shifted my perspective.
Knowing how close I was to losing Luca, entirely, made me realize I don’t want to spend a second of my life not being his.
I love him, and what we share is meaningful and real.
It’s not something to gamble with. Once I realized that, you better believe I doubled down.
At the end of the first week, Luca’s healing. His road rash is starting to scab over on his legs, his ribs are improving, and his shoulder is on the mend.
We’re about to watch a movie when Luca rolls his head to look at me. “It’s been a week.”
“I know but not even you have super healing abilities, Luca.”
He chuckles. “I mean, I’m okay. You know I’m okay.”
“And?”
“I don’t want you miss your shot with Alicante Atléticas. See if you can trial for a week. Go and show them what you got. Please.”
“Luca, I don’t care about fútbol as much as I care about you.”
He reaches for my hand. Bringing it to his lips, he kisses the center of my palm.
“I know. You’ve proved it to me. A thousand times over.
Please, Carla, I don’t want this on my conscience.
I want you to go and play your heart out and then come to Italy with me to run the best summer camp in Europe. ”
“Best in Europe?”
“Well, one day it will be.”
“One day,” I agree. “Are you sure?”
“It’s only seven days. I’m positive. And álvaro offered to substitute in for you. Plus, Ale and Andrés are nearby. Abuela promised to introduce me to her favorite television show. Go.”
I stare at him for a long minute. “You know her favorite television show is Las Islas de las Tentaciones, right? Are you ready for that?”
He chuckles and snatches up the remote control. “I think I can handle it. Now, I’m not pushing play until you agree to reach out to the coach.”
“She might not want me now. She—”
“They want you,” he cuts me off. “Trust me. Message her.”
Huffing out a sigh, I send a message. “Happy now?” I quirk an eyebrow at Luca.
He presses play on the movie and leans back into the sofa. “Very.”
We watch the movie and I snuggle up against him as much as possible without jostling his immobilized arm or brushing against his ribs.
When the movie is over, I tuck my patient into bed before carefully—and skillfully—giving him a little striptease performance that concludes in a happy ending for him.
“Oh, fuck. Carla!” he cries, his hand tangling in my hair. “You’re killing me.”
“Not yet,” I murmur, his cock slipping out of my mouth. I grip his hardness at the base and slide my hand up and down his length. “We’ve got some lost time to make up for.”
Then, I stretch my lips around him and resume my bobbing.
I love the pressure he applies to the back of my head, showing me exactly how he likes it. I shift into a tabletop position over his legs, careful not to put any weight on his frame, as I work him over.
“Fuck, cucciola,” he moans. “I’m going to come.”
I suck the tip of his cock and he groans, letting go. Hot strands of his arousal spurt, coating the back of my throat. And I swallow every last drop, smacking my lips together greedily.
Luca stares at me in awe, his pupils blown, his expression filled with desire. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Yes, you do.”
He shakes his head. “Come here.”
I shake my head. “We can’t have sex. You still need to—”
“Come here and kiss me.”
I acquiesce and shimmy up his body until I can drop my lips to his. I kiss him hard, plunging my tongue into his mouth, letting him taste himself.
His hand slips into my panties and he moans again when he finds me wet and wanting. “We’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”
“Old fashioned?” I pant as he circles my clit.
“Keep it virginal,” he jokes, pushing a finger inside me.
I arch my back, moaning.
“Lose the shirt,” he demands.
I pull his large T-shirt off my frame and drop it.
Luca bands an arm around my ass and brings me closer to his face so he can pull one of my breasts into his mouth.
He licks and sucks my nipple while adding another finger and pumping in and out of my channel.
He drives me higher until I’m chasing my orgasm.
It shimmers on the edges of the periphery.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Carla,” Luca says, dropping his forehead to my breasts. “Perfect.”
I grip his curls as I move faster against his fingers, working with him to add more friction. When his thumb presses against my clit, my body shudders. “That’s it. Give it to me. Now,” Luca commands.
I come so fucking hard, my vision blurs. My body breaks apart as pleasure unravels through my limbs. Luca presses little kisses to the underside of my breast as I ride my orgasm out against his hand.
When I can move, I swing my leg over him and drop against the pillows. “That was…very virginal.” I give him a look.
He chuckles.
“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” I gesture toward his ribs.
“I feel better than I have in weeks.”
I laugh. He reaches for me and palms my ass, giving it a little shake. “You sure did a great job taking care of me this week.”
I smack his good shoulder and he laughs.
On his bedside table, my phone beeps and I lean over to see the message. My breath catches in my throat. “Luca, it’s the coach.” I look up at him. “She wants me to come this week for a one-week trial.”
He beams, his eyes bright with pride. “Go prove yourself, campionessa. This is your time to shine.”
I go to Alicante and spend a week training with Alicante Atléticas.
It’s rigorous and brutal, but I rise to every occasion, giving everything left inside of me to the game I love.
My game is strategic, a delicate balance of proving I’m a team player while also showcasing the individual talent I could bring to the team.
I hit it off with several of the women, enjoying their company and conversation during the lunch and dinner breaks. Each night, I check in with Luca to talk about our days and it’s natural. As easy as breathing.
I realize how silly I was to think I couldn’t have both—a career and a romantic life. A position on a squad and a boyfriend.
As the week progresses, I begin to relax. My footwork flows naturally, my instincts kick in, and so much of what I spent months teaching the girls at Santa Isabel plays at the forefront of my mind.
Look for the openings.
Commit to your passes and shots on goal.
Play to win.
When the coach thanks me for my time on Saturday, I hug her goodbye and thank her for the opportunity of a lifetime. Then, I board a flight to Milan to help Luca run his summer camp.
I don’t spend the following days agonizing over whether I made the team. Because it doesn’t matter anymore. I know I gave it my all; I gave it my everything.
If I don’t make the team, I’ll still be Carla García, and these days, I’m proud of the person she is.
I meet Luca and our group of youth and adolescent players, boys and girls, in Tuscany and turn my attention to coaching. I want to leave a lasting impression on these kids, providing them with effective training, sincere guidance, and the opportunity to make lasting friendships.
As we wrap up the first week of camp, Luca winds his arm around my waist.
“How are you feeling, campionessa?”
I glance at his arm in the sling. “I should be asking you that.”
He smiles. “Honestly? Never better. This, right here, is my dream come true.”
“Coaching?” I ask, surprised.
He nods slowly. “It took me a long time to realize that I enjoy coaching more than playing.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Not that I’m going to make a career change or anything. But I’d love to build this program into something bigger and, over time, transition from being a player to running an academy. I think my dad would have liked that too.”
“You’re an amazing coach,” I tell him truthfully. “You got me to believe in myself again.”
He shakes his head. “You did that all on your own.”
“Maybe but you sped up the process.”
“I like being here with you. Doing this together. It feels…meaningful.”
“It is,” I promise. “And we are.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Yes, we are.”