Something ugly twisted in my chest. I stood abruptly. "I'm heading out."
"Already? We just got here."
"Early practice tomorrow."
I didn't wait for a response. I headed for the door. Outside, the October air was cold. I sucked in a breath, trying to calm the irrational anger burning through my veins.
I had no right to be jealous. No claim on him in public. This was the deal we'd made.
But watching him smile at strangers, watching people touch him freely when I couldn't—when I had to pretend he was just another rookie, just another responsibility—it felt like swallowing glass.
I was halfway to my car when I heard footsteps behind me.
"Luca. Wait."
I stopped. I didn't turn around. "Go back inside, Theo."
"No." He circled around to face me, his eyes bright under the parking lot lights. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"You left without saying anything. You looked..." He gestured helplessly. "I don't know. Angry? Upset?"
"I'm tired."
"Bullshit." He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Talk to me."
"Not here." I glanced toward the bar entrance. Anyone could walk out. Anyone could see us standing too close, having a conversation that clearly wasn't professional. "This isn't the place."
"Then where?" Frustration edged his words. "Your place? My place? The equipment room? Where am I allowed to actually exist with you, Luca?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it. I had no answer that wouldn't sound like an excuse.
"That's what I thought." Theo’s laugh was hollow. "I knew what I was getting into. I did. But watching you look through me in there—pretending I'm nothing to you—" He shook his head. "It's harder than I expected."
Guilt crashed through me, cold and sharp. "I'm sorry."
"I don't want sorry." His voice cracked. "I want you to look at me like you do when we're alone. Just once. Just so I know it's real and not just..." He stopped and swallowed hard. "I'm going home. You should too."
He turned and walked toward his car.
I watched him go. I stood frozen, every instinct screaming at me to follow. To call his name. To close the distance and kiss him right here under the streetlights where anyone could see.
But I couldn't move.
Captain Moretti didn't chase rookies through parking lots. He didn't risk everything for a feeling. He didn't break.
I got in my car and drove home alone.
I sat in my empty apartment with all the lights off. I stared at my phone and the text thread with Theo—dozens of coded messages, carefully worded invitations, nothing that could be used as evidence.
Nothing that was honest.
I had built this closet so carefully. I had reinforced every wall. I had made it comfortable, even. Safe.
But sitting there in the dark, I realized what I had actually built.
A tomb.
