Luca: A Chicago Blaze Hockey Romance

by Brenda Rothert

  I check my phone for the third time since softball practice started, but the only text I have is from Anton, inviting me and the kids over for dinner next weekend.

  Dammit. It’s been three days and Abby hasn’t responded to any of my messages. I didn’t think she was the type of person who would just walk away with no explanation.

  The evening after the game, I called the Palmer House, knowing she always stays there, but there was no Abby Barrett registered as a guest.

  I was even more confused when someone from the Blaze front office asked me why I didn’t mention I was dating Abby Daniels. I got a sit-down talk from one of the PR people about how they need to know when a player is dating a famous person so they can be ready when the news hits.

  Instead of making an ass of myself by admitting I didn’t know she was famous, I sheepishly apologized. Then I went out to my car and googled Abby Daniels and was floored by the results.

  Abby Barrett Daniels is one of the most successful female entrepreneurs ever. She owns Cypress Lane, the home furnishings store that seems to be popping up in every big city I go to on road trips.

  Why didn’t she tell me who she really is? I only had time to read one quick article before I had to get home to the kids, but it’s clear Abby has built something impressive and has much to be proud of. No wonder she has a private plane. Belongs to her company, my ass.

  Cora looks over at me and smiles. It’s so damn good to see her having fun with the girls on her team. I wish Matt and Danielle could see what a natural athlete she is. Since they can’t be here and I’m in my off-season, I don’t miss a single practice or game. Between Cora’s softball, Jack’s baseball, which I coach, and Emerson’s dance and swim lessons, we’re busy this summer.

  It’s so different from last summer, though. We were all still grieving then, trying to find our way in a world without Danielle. Now we have a new normal. We go to cookouts and take road trips to water parks. We stay up late watching movies and ride our bikes around the neighborhood.

  Not that everything is perfect now. Cora still struggles with anxiety and Jack can still be painfully shy. But things are getting better with time. I know Matt and Danielle would be happy to see how far their children have come. And I’m starting to think they knew what they were doing when they chose me as the kids’ guardian. We’re a family now, and I don’t know what I’d do without the kids.

  Now if I could just figure out what’s going on with Abby. I take out my phone and send her a text message, my first one for today:

  Me: I’m not just going away, Abby. I’m worried about you. If you don’t want to see me anymore, at least say that. Say something.

  “I’m thirsty, Uncle Luca.” Emerson comes up to me, sweaty from swinging on the playground, which is next to the softball field Cora’s team uses.

  “Let’s go get drinks,” I say, getting up from my folding chair.

  I had to give up sitting in the bleachers because there was a woman who always sat right next to me and put her hand on my thigh, not so casually working it over to my crotch every time. When I told her to stop, she’d laugh me off and take another sip from her stainless steel mug that smelled heavily of wine.

  “Can I get a popsicle?” Emerson asks me.

  “Sure.”

  “I want a purple one.”

  She skips up to the concession stand, her curly ponytail bouncing behind her.

  I can’t forget the look on Abby’s face when she saw me with Emerson. It wasn’t the disdainful expression of a woman who dislikes children. She was crushed. For some reason, it caused her great pain, and I hate that I unknowingly did that to her.

  A stab of guilt hits me. I should’ve told her about the kids. But she was adamant about not exchanging personal information. And until the night we went to the pizza place and I got the call about Cora’s injury, we were only friends with benefits. Minus the friends part, really.

  There’s still a lot I don’t know about Abby. But I can’t get to know her if she keeps shutting me out.

  I pay for Emerson’s popsicle and my water. As we turn to leave the concession stand, someone taps me on the shoulder.

  “Hey, Luca, how’s it going?”

  It’s John, Henry’s husband from the Muffins with Moms thing at school. We’ve hung out with them and their kids a couple times, and they’re a great family.

  “Hey, it’s good. How are you?”

  “Sweaty.” He grins. “These Chicago summers are no joke.”

  “Yeah, for sure. You guys here watching a game?”

  “We’re over on Diamond Four.” He looks around. “Is Jack here? He’s welcome to come play with Carter if he wants.”

  “He’s playing at a neighbor’s house, but thanks.”

  It’s John’s turn at the concession window, so I say, “Hey, great seeing you, man. I’m gonna text about a cookout at my place in a couple weeks.”

  “Sounds good. Enjoy the game.”

  “You too.”

  I go back to my chair and resume watching the game, trying not to get distracted by thoughts of Abby. I can’t stop seeing her face in my mind, her blue eyes welling with tears as she looked at me and Emerson.

  She’s guarded. I’ve known that from the beginning, and I assumed it was because of past hurt. But what I saw in her expression that day went beyond hurt. It was devastation.

  It would be easy to just move on; I could have a casual sex arrangement with another, less complicated woman. But I don’t want that.

  I want to know what’s going on with Abby. I’m not giving up what we have—and what we could have—without a fight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Abby

  Flames shoot high into the sky, their crackle drowned out by the sound of screaming. It’s me. I’m on my knees on the paved road, my wail a plea for help. I try to move, but I’m rooted in place. I can’t even crawl. My fingers claw against the surface of the road, seeking traction. The crunch of my fingernails and burning of my skin scraping off doesn’t even register.

  I’m desperate. Every cell in my body cries out to get to the wrecked shell of a vehicle on the highway. Nothing else matters. I’m paralyzed, though, as I am every time I relive this nightmare.

  I wasn’t there that night. I didn’t see the accident or the wreckage. But my mind has recreated the horror for me in vivid detail. There wasn’t a fire after the semi struck the sedan my husband was driving. My subconscious added that part. Every time, I see the mangled car, aflame, with Tim’s unconscious body lying beside it.

  I want to do something. I scream for help to come, for him to wake up, for time to reverse. But the nightmare is just as merciless as the reality was.

  And just when I sink into a helpless heap on the side of the road in my dream, limp and useless, I look at the shell of a car and once again relive the part of this nightmare that makes me wish I was inside that burning vehicle. A pair of chubby arms reaches out of the car for me and a tiny voice cries out a single word.

  “Mama.”

  I jolt in my sleep, the dream waking me up in an instant. My heart is racing; my nightshirt is damp with sweat.

  Of course, I had to have the worst of the nightmares. The one I’ve had to schedule emergency therapy sessions after having.

  Sometimes survival is just too much. There haven’t been any days, or weeks, or months like this in more than a year, but I’m currently on Day Four of hiding from life in my darkened bedroom.

  Sleep is a double-edged sword during times like this. It helps curb the anxiety significantly, but it also brings forth brutal nightmares. I put in my ear buds and turn on the relaxing meditation app that helps ease me back down at times like this.

  As far as my office knows, I’m on a spur of the moment vacation. I told Anthony to reschedule everything for a week and handle what he could in my absence. By the time I got back from Chicago, I knew I’d have to take some time away to regroup.

  Percy was so good about the whole thing. We flew home the m
orning after the game and she called an Uber to take us to my apartment, where she settled me into bed and made me some eggs and toast. Then she stayed in my living room for the next twenty-four hours, sleeping on the couch, until she knew I was going to be okay.

  I will be okay. I’ve walked the darkest of paths life can send a person down, and I’m still here. I keep breathing and moving and functioning. Some days are easier than others. But I believe I still have a greater calling in life, and that’s what keeps me going.

  I’ve slept a lot in the past three days. My body needed it; I know that. I’ve mostly only gotten out of bed to get water and use the bathroom.

  The nightmare was like the cresting of a wave for me. It’s time to get up and back in the land of the living.

  First, I drink an entire bottle of water. Then I take a long, hot shower and make a cup of tea. After the first sip of the warm brew, I sigh softly and walk over to the granite-topped kitchen island, where my phone is sitting facedown.

  I power it up, sure it will be flooded with work messages, but surprisingly, there are very few. It looks like Anthony told everyone to leave me be unless there was an emergency, and there’s not much to look through.

  There are messages from Luca, though, and they gut me. He’s worried. I feel like a jerk for leaving him like I did, and for being radio silent for four days.

  I just couldn’t get outside my own head until now. I needed that time to myself. If only I could make him understand.

  I take my tea and cell phone and sit down in a leather recliner in my living room, the New York skyline bright with possibility. It’s a gorgeous summer day here. Maybe I’ll go for a walk later—it’s been ages since I took some time for myself, even something as simple as a leisurely walk to the local farmer’s market.

  But first, Luca. I text a message to him.

  Me: I’m sorry I haven’t responded until now, and I’m sorry about the way I left things. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m okay.

  When he writes back immediately, I feel like an every bigger jerk.

  Luca: For fuck’s sake, I’ve been worried sick! Where are you?

  Me: I’m home in NY.

  Luca: Can we talk about what happened?

  Me: It’s too much to explain.

  Luca: You can call me if that’s easier.

  Me: No, I mean it’s too much emotionally. I’m private.

  Luca: We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. You can trust me, and if you don’t want to go into detail, that’s fine, but give me something Abby. I at least deserve that. I care about you.

  Me: I shouldn’t have come to the game. That was my mistake, and I’m sorry.

  Luca: Don’t avoid the issue.

  Me: The truth is, I don’t want to be with a man who has kids.

  Luca: Is that what we’re doing? Jumping from a casual sex thing to a full relationship?

  Me: No, because I don’t want to be with a man who has kids.

  Luca: But you want to be with another guy? Some billionaire bachelor with a small dick and a penthouse apartment?

  Me: You don’t know me. Stop acting like you do.

  Luca: I know you better than you think.

  Me: I’m entitled to want what I want. And so are you.

  Luca: Then tell me why.

  Me: Why what?

  Luca: Why don’t you want to be with me because of the kids?

  Me: Don’t be a dick about this.

  Luca: How am I being a dick? Just tell me why.

  Me: I work a lot. I like my time alone. It wouldn’t be fair.

  Luca: Bullshit. You’re lying. I’ve never lied to you.

  Me: I’m not lying.

  Luca: What I saw on your face the other day was not the look of a woman who just likes her alone time.

  Me: I was shocked, okay? I didn’t know about the kids.

  Luca: How could you? You set your bullshit rule about no personal details up front.

  Me: You didn’t think it was bullshit when we were fucking.

  Luca: So what now? We move on with our lives and never speak again?

  Me: I think that’s for the best.

  Luca: All because of the kids.

  Me: You don’t understand.

  Luca: No, I sure as hell don’t. Make me understand.

  Me: There’s a lot you don’t know about me.

  Luca: Like your real last name?

  Me: Are you serious? How do you know my last name?

  Luca: Certainly not because you told me.

  Me: What else do you know?

  Luca: What else is there to know? You’re successful and rich, I know that. Did you think I’d want your money or something? I’m not exactly broke.

  Me: I can’t believe you went digging for information on me. That’s such a violation.

  Luca: You don’t get to make all the rules.

  Me: Lose my number. I don’t want to see you again.

  Luca: What, because I actually give a fuck? That’s your loss.

  My hands are shaking as I set down the phone on the coffee table. How long has Luca known who I really am? And if he knows that, does he know about my past, too?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Luca

  Jonah and Lily West are holding hands as they walk into the sports bar we’re meeting at near my house. Those two are more in love than any couple I know, and they’ve been together since high school.

  “Campbell.” Jonah grins at me as I stand up to give him a back-slapping bro hug. “How’s it going?”

  “Good, how are you guys?”

  “Can’t complain. We’re going to Europe next week for vacation.”

  Lily smiles warmly and hugs me, too.

  “How are the kids?” she asks as Jonah pulls out a chair for her and she sits down.

  “Busy. But good.”

  A waitress approaches with menus and we all order drinks. Jonah puts his arm around his wife, his expression relaxed and happy.

  “So does your babysitter still help out in the off-season?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yeah, she’s with the kids right now. And with all three of them involved in all different activities, there are times when I just can’t get everyone to the places they need to be when they need to be there, so she helps with that. Thank Jesus.”

  “Do they play sports?”

  “Yep. Baseball, softball, swimming and dance. All of them are starting hockey in the fall.” I say this with a proud papa smile on my face.

  Jonah gives Lily a tender glance. “I can’t wait for those days.”

  Lily smiles and leans into him. “Well, Luca, if you ever need help getting the kids anywhere or you want a babysitter for a night, you just let us know. We’d love to do it.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that. Sheila’s going on an Alaskan cruise with her sons soon, so I may need an extra chauffeur.”

  “I’ll drive the kids around on my Harley,” Jonah offers.

  “Yeah, you have no idea how much shit you have to haul around for kids’ sports. It’s a good thing I drive a huge SUV.”

  Our drinks come and we all order sandwiches with a side of sweet potato fries, which this place is famous for. As soon as the waitress leaves, Lily gives me a tentative look.

  “So…we love you, Luca, and it’s awesome to have lunch with you, but there’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Did Jonah tell you it’s normal to not be able to get it up? That it happens to everyone?” I quip. “Because he’s lying.”

  “Fuck you,” Jonah says, laughing. “I can get it up anytime.”

  Lily shakes her head. “You guys don’t even need a locker room for locker room talk, do you?”

  “No,” Jonah says. “We do this pretty much everywhere we go.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, Luca, I asked Jonah to set this lunch up because I heard you’re seeing Abby Daniels.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “I saw her in the hospitality room at the charity game and I kn
ew she looked familiar, so I asked Maria from PR if she knew who she was.”

  I sigh heavily. Nothing gets by Lily. She’s not the least bit catty, but she is sort of the matriarch of the team family. And now I have to discuss Abby with her, when all I want to do is forget about her and move on.

  “Abby and I were seeing each other, but we’re on the outs now,” I say.

  Lily’s expression falls. “Oh, I’m sorry, Luca.”

  “Thanks. Me too.”

  “Do you think you guys will work it out?”

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head. “Probably not.”

  “Okay.” The corners of her lips turn down slightly in disappointment.

  “Why do you ask about her?”

  “Because I’m the chair of the Blaze Foundation, and with all the philanthropic work Abby has done…I was just really hoping to see her at some of our future events with you.”

  I’m silent as I consider this new information she gave me without realizing it. Do I admit I have no idea what she’s talking about, or do I save face by pretending I do?

  Jonah’s like family to me, so I decide there’s no need to play it cool in front of him and Lily.

  “What philanthropic work?” I ask.

  Lily’s eyes widen. “You don’t know? Abby’s company gives major money to charity through The Cypress Lane Foundation. Like millions every year. The CLF has underwritten huge projects at children’s hospitals, they fund a free car seat program, and they help pay medical bills for families with sick kids who need help.”

  It hits me like punch in the gut. Another major thing I didn’t know about Abby, because she didn’t want me to know.

  “Abby’s very private,” I explain. “We’ve only known each other for a few months.”

  “Well, when it comes to supporting children in need, there’s no one known for being more generous than she is. I’m sure she’s very well-off, but Abby could be much wealthier if she didn’t give so much to charity.”

  I shake my head, still floored by this revelation. “And it’s specifically children’s charities?”

  Lily nods. “I’m putting together an event for next year that will raise money for family vacations for terminally-ill children, and I was thinking if you had an in with Abby, I’d ask the Cypress Lane Foundation to be part of it.”