Fuck.
As I read Cameron’s disheartening text, I feel like my spirit is thunking onto the turf beneath my feet.
Me: Please tell me you’re joking.
Cameron: Sorry, no. It’s the best I could do.
I close my eyes as a lump rises in my throat. I’m not sure which is worse: scratching and clawing to get onto the lowly Mastodons—the literal worst team in the league—or being invited to training camp for my big brother’s new team, solely as a favor to him.
When I open my eyes, Chelsea is still talking excitedly with Coach Martinez. And I can’t help it: Seeing her here, after all these years, and knowing she’s going to be working closely with my squad—and hey, specifically following me around as my own personal babysitter, too—suddenly makes my presence here feel more like fate than a bad break. Maybe I’m here for a reason. Maybe this is where I was always meant to end up.
True, it’s offensive as fuck Coach Parker assigned me a babysitter. But maybe he’s testing me. Seeing if he can break me. If so, I should probably at least pretend to take the whole thing in stride, right?
I mean, hell, even if Chelsea tries to tell me what to do all the time, I don’t have to actually listen to her. I can just let her yap at me and pretend to listen like a good little boy while actually ignoring everything she says. And while I do that, I’ll have the perfect opportunity to figure out what the hell happened in Bloomington and, more importantly, how to make her forgive me for taking things too fast so we can press the reset button and pick up where we left off back then.
Cameron: I need an answer, Luca. Yes or no?
I glance up from my screen just in time to witness Chelsea throwing her head back and laughing at something Coach Martinez has said. When she catches me looking at her, she’s still smiling. Not at me. I’m catching the tail end of her reaction to whatever Coach Martinez said. But the smile melts me anyway, the same way it did all those years ago. In fact, I’m suddenly feeling a certain kind of tingles, a rush I haven’t felt in years.
Welp. I guess I know which devil I’m going to choose now. In the end, I’ve really got no choice. And so, without replying to Cameron, I shove my phone into my pocket and stride toward my newly appointed babysitter with an unexpected skip in my step and tingles skating across my skin.
CHAPTER 9
Chelsea
ITAKE Abite of my breakfast and stare intently at the game-time video clip on my laptop. I’m in the cafeteria nibbling at oatmeal and fruit while preparing my sales pitch to Luca, aka my newly assigned ward. One way or another, I have to convince Luca to let me coach him for however long he manages to remain at camp. And considering the likely short duration of his tenure here, I have to do it quickly.
After my father’s opening remarks earlier, the players went off to get their assigned iPads and equipment, so I’ve had some uninterrupted time to sit here and watch Luca’s beastly college highlights and compare those with his more recent NFL appearances. What I could find of them, anyway. Luca sat on the bench quite a bit last season. And before that, even when he played, it was clear he lacked the focus, attention to detail, and fierce fire of his earlier college days.
Looking at these clips, I know I could do amazing things with Luca, things that might earn me Bellamy’s respect, if only Luca will give me a chance and follow my instructions. Luca Maguire is ridiculously athletic and innately talented. The Maguire DNA is strong in that one. But unfortunately, he relies way too much on his God-given talents at the expense of his technique and strategizing, and those flaws in his gamehave become increasingly problematic over time. Now that he’s butting up against middle age by professional football standards, he’s got to shift gears or there’s no doubt in my mind this season in the NFL will be his last.
I pause the current video to input some information into the color-coded spreadsheet I’ve been building to keep track of all things Luca Maguire. But midway through my entry, a commotion at the entrance to the cafeteria attracts my attention.
Luca.
He’s entered the room among a large pack of players, and all of them are enthusiastically laughing and ribbing each other.
Déjà vu.
Exactly like Luca did in Bloomington years ago, he now barrels straight to the buffet line alongside his teammates and begins enthusiastically piling food onto his plate.
As Luca works his way through the bountiful offerings, I place an elbow on the table and my chin in my hand and study him, thoroughly enjoying this chance to stare at him without being discovered. My goodness, that boy’s grown into quite the specimen of a man since we first met.
When I first beheld Luca Maguire as a fresh-faced, wide-eyed, inexperienced teenager, I thought he was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen. With his jaw-dropping smile and dimples, and his big ol’ booty and strong arms, he was too beautiful to resist. So I didn’t.
But now, he’s retained all of his former beauty, but it’s amplified. Bigger and better. And so much hotter. Now, he looks like a man. No, a demigod. Hercules. He’s the sort of guy who makes people stop and stare brazenly as he passes by. The physical type I’d order from the Man Store, if that were a thing. Frankly, if it were, I’d pay extra for rush shipping.
Suddenly, Luca’s eyes lock with mine. Crap. And when hediscovers I’ve been watching him, a cocky smile breaks out across his rugged face, one that makes his dimples pop and goose bumps erupt over every inch of my flesh.
Angry with myself for getting caught looking, I immediately whip my attention to my laptop screen and pretend to be extremely busy with my spreadsheet. But only a few moments later, Luca is here at my table, plopping his tray down and sliding his muscular ass into the chair across from mine.
“Hi, babysitter. Déjà vu, right?”
I’m too tongue-tied by the adrenaline coursing through me to speak, so I simply nod and try to look highly engrossed in what’s on my computer screen.
After waiting a beat for me to say something, Luca motions to my opened laptop and says, “Are you compiling a long list of all the reasons you desperately wanted to get away from me in Bloomington?”
“I didn’t want to get away from you, Luca, desperately or otherwise. I just realized it was time to go. My team got into the next day’s final in our math competition, remember?”
