"You won't." I caught Luca’s chin. I tilted his face up. "I trust you."
Something raw crossed Luca’s expression. Like the words had cracked him open.
"I love you," Luca said roughly. "I don't think I’ve said it enough. I love you so much it scares me."
"I know." I kissed him softly. "I love you too. Even when you’re being an idiot. Especially then, actually."
Luca huffed a laugh against my mouth. "Brat."
"Your brat."
"Yeah." Luca’s hands came up to frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones. "Mine."
We undressed slowly. Luca helped with my sling, easing it off with the care he brought to everything. He pressed kisses to my bare shoulder, and I felt my throat tighten.
"I’m okay," I said.
"I know. But I’m allowed to be grateful you’re here anyway."
We fell into bed together. Luca mapped my body with his hands and mouth—relearning every scar, every sensitive spot, every place that made me arch and gasp. But this time, there was no urgency. No desperation.
Just reverence.
"You’re so good," Luca murmured against my hip. "So perfect. I don't deserve you."
"Shut up," I managed. My good hand fisted in Luca’s hair. "You—fuck—you deserve everything."
"I have everything." Luca kissed lower. "I have you."
I lost the ability to form words after that.
Later—much later—when we were tangled together and my shoulder was throbbing but I didn't care, Luca propped himself up on one elbow.
"What happens now?" Luca asked quietly.
"Now?" I traced patterns on Luca’s chest—nothing fancy, just lazy circles. "Now we win a championship. And after that, we figure out the rest."
"What if it’s too much? The media attention, the scrutiny—"
"Then we handle it together." I caught Luca’s hand. I pressed it over my heart. "You aren't alone anymore. Remember?"
His eyes were wet. "I remember."
"Good." I pulled him down for a kiss. "Because I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Captain."
"Best thing that ever happened to me," Luca whispered against my mouth.
"Damn right."
We fell asleep like that—wrapped around each other, no space between us, nothing left to hide.
Outside, the world was still processing. Social media was still arguing. Analysts were still debating whether an openly gay captain could lead a team to victory.
But none of that mattered.
We had each other. We had our team. We had a championship to win.
And for the first time in sixteen years, Luca Moretti was finally, completely free.
