“I’ll give Ortega a call and pass him your number. Okay?”
“Vale,” Luca agrees. “Thanks.”
“No pasa nada.” I disconnect the call and ease back into my bath.
It hits me again how invested and involved Luca is in supporting the people he cares about. Álvaro’s heath and recovery, my career and future goals, his team’s go-to guy for advice. I know my brother relies on him for honest feedback. His sister has said multiple times that she’s indebted to him. He’s a family man through and through and yet…his family now is more of the chosen variety.
As someone who comes from a big, obnoxious, often meddlesome tribe, it strikes me how different Luca’s experience is. And still, he shows up, he gives his time, his love, and his support.
Knowing I can come through for him on this request makes me smile. For someone who does so much for others, I want to repay the favor.
10
Luca
It feels like I haven’t properly slept in weeks. My nights are plagued with nightmares starring my parents, Álvaro, and even Chiara. My mind spins and loops on real and fictitious scenarios, causing me to wake each night in a cold sweat.
Breathing heavily, I drag my hand though my hair, pushing the curls that are already growing back in, away from my forehead. I glance at the clock and swear.
Four-oh-seven a.m.
I groan, closing my eyes. But I know sleep won’t come for me. Instead, I force myself to swing my legs to the side of my bed and stand. I pull on sweats and grab my helmet. Then, I ride to the beach to watch the sunrise.
My head is all over the damn place. My body agitated and hopped up on a cocktail of nerves, anxiety, and adrenaline.
I excel in the caretaker role. I know who to call and how to set Álvaro up to ensure his recovery. I have a key to his place and pass by daily to check on him, to feed his cats, and to make lists of any items he needs.
It’s a role I both relish, because I understand it, and despise, because of the heavy heartache it eventually leaves behind. This is the reason why Chiara didn’t want to marry me. I don’t know how to separate myself from the people I love. I will do everything I can to support Álvaro now, and even though Chiara would have logically understood, she would have resented it too. The extra hours away from home, the hectic schedule I keep to juggle all the balls I’ve got flying in the air, the exhaustion that sets in that makes me short-tempered and distracted.
And yet…when I called Carla for help, she offered up a contact instantly. I hate that it’s an ex-boyfriend of hers, but it seems that she is one of the few people who’s managed to turn exes into friends. And, knowing her, I can see how it happens. She’s too damn good of a person, honest and loyal and sincere, to drop from one’s life. Especially if the relationship never turned serious. Were any of her relationships serious? They all seem to skim the surface of dating. Alejandro never mentioned Carla’s beaus as more than a passing comment, but…I shake my head. I hate that I’m so twisted up over Carla García.
I drop back onto my palms, allowing my arms to bear the brunt of my bodyweight as I stare at the sky. Dawn is all soft pinks and light peaches over the expanse of sand and endless sea. It’s breathtaking and magical and I find myself sucking in a deep breath.
My mamma loved sunrises. The start of a new day meant a new gift, waiting to be unwrapped and treasured. In her final weeks, Bianca would bundle her up to take her onto the porch. Together, they would watch the sunrise and some mornings, call me so I could sit on my terrace in Valencia and enjoy the moment with them.
It’s a bittersweet memory and it causes my throat to tighten. This week, I’m all over the place. Dragging myself to stand, I dust the sand from my palms, swing one leg over my bike, and drive back to Valencia.
“Roll,” I tell Carla that evening. We’re using a pitch near her flat and the lights have just flickered on. “Faster.”
“I’m trying,” she huffs.
“Again.”
“Dios, you’re worse than my father,” she spits out, her eyes blazing.
“You want to play at the national level or not?” I lift my eyebrows, keeping my cool. Inside, my blood is hot with frustration. This entire day has been a shitshow. Andrés was late to our workout, practice was riddled with mistakes, and Álvaro is back in the hospital after a dizzy spell. They’re keeping him overnight as new health concerns have been flagged.
Right now, I’m on edge, exhausted, and mentally hanging on by a thread. And Carla’s head isn’t here either. She’s not nearly as focused as usual and I don’t have the patience to be understanding.
“Is this what you do to the boys in your youth camps? Fucking torture them?!” She throws a hand in the air.
“I told you, I play to win. Run the drill again.”
She glowers at me. I lift my eyebrows, challenging her.
She turns away, her shoulders thrown back, her posture proud. But I don’t apologize. I don’t say anything.
Instead, we run the drill again. And again. Until Carla performs it perfectly.
