Luca: A Chicago Blaze Hockey Romance

by Brenda Rothert

  “Me too,” Emerson says.

  Luca helps the kids dig out sand to make an indentation in the sand for his body, then he lies down to be buried for the third time this week. This week has really underscored what a patient nature he has. He plays with the kids and doesn’t get frustrated with their imperfections. Or mine, for that matter.

  I’ve only had one nightmare since we’ve been here. I worked through it like I did the last time, feeling the sadness and eventually going back to sleep. For me, this is a big deal. I’ve been getting more sleep lately than I have in a long time, and it feels good.

  “Want to walk?” Cora asks me.

  “Sure.”

  I get up and brush the sand off my legs, and we start down the beach, our feet in the cool water. The views here are like none I’ve ever seen. The colors are all vibrant and bright, the lush greenery a stark contrast to the concrete jungle of New York City.

  “Did you ever go to the beach with Chloe?” Cora asks.

  “No, but I know she would’ve loved it.” I look out at the ocean’s waves. “We did spend lots of time at the pool. She loved the fountains there.”

  “My mom and dad used to take us to Gulf Shores.”

  “Did you guys play on the beach?”

  Cora’s lips curve up in a wistful smile. “Yeah. We built sand castles and got ice cream at a little tiny place that my dad said looked like a shack that was about to fall over, but their ice cream was the best.”

  “What kind would you get?”

  “Lemon with sprinkles, like my mom.”

  “Those are wonderful memories, Cora.”

  We walk in silence for a few minutes, Jack and Emerson’s laughter growing faint as we get further from them. I adore all three of the kids, but Cora is the one I have the most kinship with. When we spend time together, talking or not, I feel like it heals us both in a tiny but meaningful way.

  “Do you love Uncle Luca?” she asks me.

  I smile down at her. The question doesn’t put me on the spot, because it’s one I’ve thought about several times on this vacation.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “But are you in love with him? Or do you just love him?” She sees something in the sand and bends down to look at it.

  “Both?” I furrow my brow as I think about it. “I think too many people see love as a destination. In romantic relationships, they want that validation of the other person saying they love them. But for me, love is about the journey. In starts out small and full of hope. And over time, your Uncle Luca has done and said so many things that made my love for him grow. If you think of it like that, love can get bigger over time. You don’t just arrive at love and that’s it.” I squish my toes down into the wet sand. “Is this making any sense?”

  “Yes.” She splashes through the shallow water. “My grandpa tells my grandma his love for her is bigger than all the stars in the sky. So maybe when they first met, it was just a few stars, but now it’s…how many stars are there, anyway?”

  I smile. “So many. More than we can even count precisely.”

  “I used to want to be an astronomer when I grew up. My dad had a telescope and we’d look at the stars and he’d tell me stories about them.”

  “Really? I’d love to hear more about that.”

  “He would set the telescope up on our deck and we’d bring out blankets and snacks and have star-gazing parties. Me and Dad and Jack. Emerson was still a baby.”

  “Do you still remember the stories he told you?”

  “Some of them.” She wrinkles her forehead in concentration. “There was a star he told us was a secret rebel base for a colony of giant ants who walked up like people instead of crawling. But I don’t remember the whole thing.”

  “That sounds like a perfect way to spend an evening with your dad.”

  “Did you used to do stuff with your dad when you were a kid?”

  I smile and nod. “I helped him in his workshop. His hobby was building furniture.”

  “Was it fun?”

  “I thought so. His workshop was my favorite place in the world. It was a big building behind our house with a tin roof, and I loved the sound of the rain falling on it. He had an old refrigerator with cans of beer for him and orange soda for me.”

  “Is that why you decided to start a furniture store?”

  We’re getting close to the edge of the beach, which borders a tropical space that’s probably technically a jungle. Cora and I turn around to walk back.

  “I guess it was,” I say. “My dad taught me about what makes furniture last. A lot of time goes into a well-made piece of furniture. I saw an opportunity in the market at a time when I needed an outlet.”

  “An electrical outlet?”

  “No, outlet also means something to focus your energy on. I started Cypress Lane after Chloe and my husband died.”

  “Oh. And now you’re really rich, right?”

  I laugh. “I guess I am.”

  “I mean, you have a plane,” Cora says. “And you got us this great beach house.”

  “I’ve had the best time here,” I say softly. “And it’s not because of the place, it’s because of you guys.”

  Cora grins. “Me too.”

  “So you said earlier that you used to want to be an astronomer. What do you want to be now?”

  “A cancer researcher. I told my mom when she was sick that I wanted to find a cure for cancer when I grow up.”

  My heart swells with pride. Cora reminds me so much of myself; she loves fiercely.

  “I think you’d be great at that,” I say.

  “Thanks.” She looks up at me. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

  “Oh, I went through lots of stages. Garbage collector, figure skater, veterinarian…but mostly, I wanted to be a mom.”

  Cora takes my hand. “And you are.”

  I sigh softly, then smile as I see Luca turn his head in our direction, the rest of him buried in the sand.

  “My mom told me when she was sick that I’ll always be her daughter and she’ll always be my mom, no matter what,” Cora says solemnly. “Same with you and Chloe.”

  My eyes flood with tears. “Thank you. I know she’s always with me.”

  “Babe, come get buried!” Luca calls.

  I groan and shake my head, trying not to laugh. “I don’t know if I’m up for that.”

  “Come on, it’s our last day here.”

  Luca growls Incredible Hulk-style and busts his arms out of the sand coffin he’s in, then sits up.

  “Your turn,” he says, shaking the sand off and coming toward me.

  “Come on Abby, do it!” Jack says excitedly.

  “Please!” Emerson begs. “We won’t bury your face.”

  If I do it, I’ll have sand in places I didn’t know sand could be. I give Luca a pleading look.

  “C’mon.” He winks and grins.

  My heart races, as it does every time he winks, grins or winks and grins at me. I’m definitely in love with Luca Campbell.

  “It would be a good memory for us,” Cora says from next to me.

  I look down at her and scoff. “Traitor! You know I can’t say no to that.”

  I lie down on the sand, closing my lips so I don’t get any in my mouth. Luca and the kids set to work burying me, and even as the sand is piled on top of me, I feel light in this moment.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Three months later

  Luca

  The locker room is buzzing with excitement. I pause as I step inside and look around, taking in the carpet with out team logo and the light wood lockers, each with a perfectly pressed jersey hanging in front.

  Playing in the NHL was a dream for me growing up. In some ways, I’m still the little boy who gets charged up every time I skate onto the ice because it’s time to play hockey. The magic of the game has never faded for me.

  Even those of us lucky to make it to the highest level of the game aren’t guaranteed anything. Hockey is a very phy
sical sport, and I’ve seen guys leave the ice on stretchers during games they had no idea would be their last.

  Our team’s forwards have the best protection in the game in our enforcer, Knox Deveraux. For as pissy as he gets when we prank him, Knox would lay down his life for any one of us. The other teams know it, too. Anton, Vic and I would get laid flat if our opponents didn’t know they’d have to answer to Knox for it.

  When I look over at him, he’s wrapping his stick in silence. Knox doesn’t like to be fucked with or even spoken to before a game. We respect that during games that count, but all bets are off when we play charity games.

  Tonight’s game is our season opener, though, so everyone’s serious. On the walk to my locker, I see a rookie, about to play his first NHL game ever. There’s no greater feeling in this game than making it to the top.

  And the nice thing about not knowing if you’ll stay at the top, for me, is the way it forces me to live in the moment. Matt and Danielle’s deaths are also part of the reason I stop to take things in now, like seeing my name on the back of a Blaze jersey. I take out my phone and snap a photo.

  This game has an added level of excitement for me because Abby is in the stands. She and the kids have on their team colors and are sitting in the friends and family section. This is the first time I’ll raise my stick and blow a kiss not just to the kids, but to the woman I’m in love with, too.

  I’ve had a few girlfriends make it to the friends and family section for a handful of games, but Abby is different. I don’t really consider her my girlfriend, even though she is. She’s my partner in every way that matters. The kids and I love her and consider her one of us. Our sex life, when we manage to fit sex in, is off the charts. She’s my best friend.

  Over the summer, we became as inseparable as our careers allow us to be. It’s October now, and we’re busy with the kids’ hockey schedules, too, but we make it work. Abby spends about half her time at my place and half in New York when she has to be there for work.

  “Hey, man,” Anton says, stopping in front of my locker. “You ready for this?”

  “Been ready since April,” I say, grinning.

  “Let’s go out there and remind ‘em all who we are.” His jaws tightens and he scowls. “Vladimir Fucking Krupin’s all show and no go.”

  I nod in agreement, though it’s not really true. Trash talking opponents gives us all a mental edge, so of course, we do it. But Vladimir Krupin was a first round pick and he’s the rookie everyone’s buzzing about. A first line forward, he’ll go to toe with me, Anton and Vic tonight.

  “I saw that fucker do an interview yesterday where he said he’s not at all intimidated by us,” I tell Anton. “He actually smirked and said he’s younger and faster.”

  Vic scoffs from nearby. “I saw that, too. I’m gonna put him on his back a few times and see how much younger and faster he feels then.”

  “Did you see that he has more than two dozen women who plan to follow him around the country to watch his games?” Anton asks us. “They call themselves the ‘Krupe-ies.”

  “Douchebag,” Vic mutters, shaking his head.

  He’s bitter, and I don’t blame him. Last month, the actress he was dating, Kristen Moore, was photographed by tabloids on a yacht with a big shot director twenty years older than her. They were pretty much making out naked. She didn’t even have the decency to break up with Vic; he found out when he saw the pictures online.

  “You can get ass any day of the week,” I remind him.

  He shrugs and goes back to putting on his pads. I can’t figure out why he’s still hung up on Kristen when she shit all over him like that. But whatever, he’ll snap out of it when another woman catches his eye.

  “You’re coming out with us after the game,” Anton says, his brows arched seriously.

  I groan softly.

  “Don’t give me any shit. The whole team goes out after the season opener.”

  “All right,” I agree. “One drink.”

  “Dude,” Victor says, glaring at me, “my fucking grandma parties harder than you do anymore.”

  “It’s true,” Jonah calls from nearby, “I partied with his grandma last night, she gives fantastic head.”

  “Fuck you,” Vic says, flipping him off.

  “Bring Abby with you,” Anton says to me. “Mia’s coming. Lots of the wives and girlfriends will be there.”

  “We’ve got the kids. We’re taking them out for pizza.”

  “I get that,” he says with a shrug. “But you’re having one drink with us.”

  “Yeah, I will.”

  I get my gear on, my pre-game adrenaline pumping. We’ve got a good team this season. The chemistry has been there in our practices, now it’s time to put it to the test with our first regular-season game.

  Coach and Anton get everyone pumped up, and by the time my skate hits the ice, I’m fucking dying to start this season with a bang. We didn’t make it far in the playoffs last season; all of us want to come out strong in this one.

  I get a glimpse of Abby and the kids and my heart pumps even harder with excitement. Abby’s one of the most successful female entrepreneurs in the world, and I’m proud she’s mine. But this—hockey—is what I do, and I want to make her proud of me, too.

  We aren’t far into the game and I’m in position, waiting for a pass, when it feels like a fucking bus hits me. My body slams into the boards, knocking the air from my lungs.

  Fuck, that hurts. My back and shoulder are burning.

  I get a skate blade on the ice and manage to push myself into a standing position. Vladimir Krupin is already several feet away, escaping after getting in a cheap shot.

  When there’s a line change, Knox catches my eye on the bench and nods. He’s telling me he’s gonna retaliate for the hit. I shake my head, though, and he gives me a confused look. I gesture at myself, telling him I’ve got it.

  Knox will still fight Krupin; I know Knox well enough to know that. But I get the first shot.

  As soon as my line goes back out, I skate over to Krupin and throw my gloves off.

  “The pretty boy wants to fight?” he says, his Russian accent thick. “Let’s go.”

  “You got big balls for a guy who’s about to get his ass kicked.”

  I can hear his sneer inside his mask. He drops his gloves and looks out at the crowd, which is now roaring and on its feet.

  I don’t fight on the ice often, but when I do, it’s not for show. I charge toward Krupin, grab a fistful of his jersey at the collar, and drive several punches into his face. He wraps an arm around my neck and tries to bury his face against my chest.

  Jerking him back, I pummel him a few more times. The noise of the crowd is deafening, and I can’t hear what he says as his helmet comes off and he bends over, trying to escape another blow to his face.

  He gets in one good punch to my eye; I get in more than a dozen to his face. Once in the penalty box, I get a chance to catch my breath. Krupin looks like a baby who just got its candy taken away. What a fucking blowhard.

  I would’ve gone a round with anyone for boarding me like Krupin did, but he earned an extra few hits for doing it while Abby and the kids were watching. No one’s getting away with that shit.

  We win the game 4-2, which is cause for celebration in the locker room. My eye is bruised and a little swollen, but not bloody. I ice it to reduce the swelling because I don’t want the kids to worry when they see it.

  I do one locker room interview, then shower and head out to meet Abby and the kids.

  Emerson races toward me, wrapping her arms around my thighs.

  “Good game, Uncle Luca!” She looks up at me, beaming.

  We walk over to the others and my eyes immediately find Abby’s; after what happened in this hallway last time she came to a game, I need to know she’s okay. When she smiles and hugs me, the tension leaves my body.

  “Awesome fight,” Jack says, nodding with appreciation.

  “Are we going out for dinner?�
�� Cora asks me.

  I look at Abby. “I need to go have a drink with the team, it’s a tradition after the season opener. I won’t be long. Can I meet you guys at a pizza place?”

  Abby’s brow furrows slightly. “I think I should take the kids home. We can order pizza when we get there.”

  “Everything okay?” I ask her, searching her eyes to see if there’s a problem.

  She nods and puts an arm around Jack. “Jack’s really tired.”

  Something’s not right. Abby sounds worried.

  “Hey guys?” I look between the kids. “Do you remember Georgie from the front office?”

  Cora nods. “The one with red hair.”

  “Yeah. If you go all the way to the end of the hall, she’s down there. Ask her to give you each a puck.”

  They walk down there together, Cora holding Emerson’s hand. I turn to Abby.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

  “I’m worried about Jack.” She frowns slightly. “He seems exhausted even though he got plenty of sleep last night, and he has a bump on his head.”

  “A bump? Like he hit it on something?”

  Abby shakes her head. “No, it’s small and kind of hard. He asked me if I knew what it was, but I have no idea.”

  I sigh heavily. “Can you stay here with the kids while I go find our team doctor? She can take a look and tell me if I need to take him to see the pediatrician.”

  Abby nods. “Of course. We’ll be out here.”

  I go back into the locker room and find our trainer, Hal, who helps me locate Andrea, our new team doctor.

  When I tell her what’s going on, she says, “Bring him in and I’ll take a look. Meet me in the training room.”

  I appreciate that Abby cares enough about Jack to worry about him, but I’m sure he’s just a worn-out eight-year-old who played too hard at school today and then had a late night because of the game. This will be an easy way to put her mind at ease.

  When I bring Jack into the training room, Andrea has him sit on the table the trainers use for players.

  “How old are you, Jack?” she asks my nephew.

  “Eight.”