“Did you not see the part where he says he’d do it again?” I shake my head. “What am I going to do? I can’t have Lucca’s career on my conscience.”
She’s beaming like an idiot and staring at my phone. “I guess you’d better not ignore him again.”
I roll my eyes and snatch back my cell. “He’s being ridiculous.He’s going to get himself ejected from more than just one game.”
“Sounds like you’re more important to him than a game—maybe even his career.”
“That’s insane,” I scoff, but my breaths are uneven, and it turns into almost a choke. Swallowing, I pull in a rush of air. “We haven’t even been friends that long.”
“Maybe not. But you’ve been enemies for a very long time. There’s passion in that.”
“And you read too many romance novels,” I say, stuffing my phone into my pants pocket.
“Impossible.” She drops my phone onto the mattress. “You can’t read too many romance novels. Besides, I’m not the one who can’t stop myself from kissing him.”
“One time!” But my tone is unnaturally high.
“Two times!” Lindy’s left brow rises on her head. She sighs. “You can’t control everything, Mags. No matter how much you’d like to,” she mutters.
“Hey.” I smack my sister’s arm. “When did this conversation turn into a personal attack?”
“Maybe control is the wrong word.Care for. You want tocarefor everyone. For everything. You can’t deny that.”
My head aches with the truth of her words. But I also can’t help that I’m needed. “Wyatt’s six. He needs me.” I don’t mention that, at twenty-five, Lindy needs me, too.
“He does.” I appreciate that she doesn’t deny it. “And I’ve needed you, too,” she says, possibly reading my mind. Lindy reaches for my hand. “Hopefully, I need you a little less now than I did a few years ago. But you cared for us both.”
I sniff. “I wanted to. I love you and Wyatt more than anything.”
“I know. We love you, too.”
I blink back my tears and huff out a breath. I pressmy back into the headboard and peer at her. “I don’t know what any of this has to do with Lucca.”
Lindy slides up next to me on this bed. She leans her head on my shoulder. “You’re so worried about his job, about him missing games, about his reputation.”
“He’s going to ruin everything,” I say in my defense.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But he gets to make his own choices, Maggie. And clearly, he wants your attention. Apparently, you’re worth some trouble to him.”
My voice catches in my throat. I can’t speak, nor do I know what to say to that.
I spendthe next week in one long text conversation with Lucca. It feels safe enough. But today is the first time I’ll see him since he was ejected from the United game last week. He’s missed his suspended game—one where the Red Tails really could have used him—and he’s back to starting today.
The team exits the tunnel and disperses onto the field, and I silently and discretely find Lucca in the crowd. His eye catches mine and I turn away, looking back to my safe little huddle of referees. From the corner of my eye, I see him walking right toward me and the other officials.
“Hello,” he says, just outside our circle. He’s cordial and friendly. And while I haven’t looked at his face yet, I know it’s him. There’s no denying that accent.
Sam, our fourth official, peers up from our group. His brows raise on his head when he sees Lucca. “Cruz. Are you feeling the need to borrow things today? Do I need to keep a close eye on my headset?”
Lucca laughs. “No. I highly doubt that will ever happenagain.” His gaze shifts to me, but it’s so brief, so short-lived. Yet, it tells me that the decision is truly up to me.
Sam scoffs. I don’t blame him. That wasn’t a definitive no.
Lucca nods a hello to the other two refs, waiting for a greeting back, before he turns to me. “Hello, Maggie.”
I swallow, fearing that if I say nothing, he will take up thieving again today. “Hello, Cruz.”
I am a nervous wreck for the rest of the game.Thanks a lot, Lucca.I am certain I miss a couple calls, and when Lucca slides into another player, I am so tempted to call it harsher than it is.
