Page 103 of Spotlight Hearts

Luca’s hand tightens around mine. I squeeze back.

His mom bustles us into the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen—bright, warm, the kind of space that feels lived in. She talks as she moves, pulling plates from cabinets, setting food out across the wide island like she’s done this a hundred times.

The smell hits me immediately. Garlic. Butter. Something roasting. My stomach growls before I can stop it.

Luca lets out a quiet laugh beside me.

“If you think this smells good, you should smell my dad cooking on the grill.”

“That’s tomorrow,” Dax calls from behind us.

Conversation fills the space—easy, constant. Dax tossing out dry jokes. Luca firing back without missing a beat. Beth moving between us, touching shoulders, setting plates, keeping everything moving like it’s second nature.

It’s…effortless.

And it’s real.

It’s clear in every small thing they do or say that they care about Luca. Deeply. Not because he’s some star or in Eclipse, but because he’s theirs. A quiet pang hits me in the center of my chest, the old emptiness of foster homes and broken promises rearing its ugly head, but I shake it off faster than I ever have before.

Because I get it now.

Luca’s life wasn’t easy either.

Different, yeah, but not easy in the way I imagined for months.

He grew up with money. With fame. With expectations that never let up. The constant pressure to prove he belonged somewhere people already assumed he was because of his father’s name.

Mine came from instability and being passed around. And never knowing if I’d still have a place the next day.

They might sound different, and sure, the roads we took to get here were a little different, but right now, it feels like the same kind of hard.

We both had to prove we belonged. But together, we don’t have to do that anymore.

After dinner, we move outside to the patio by the pool. The city lights sparkle in the distance, the water reflecting them like scattered stars. It’s quiet out here—just the soft hum of the pool filter and the occasional laugh from inside.

Luca and I settle on one of the wide lounge chairs, his arm draped loosely around my shoulders, holding me to him. Beth brings out drinks and a plate of cookies she insists we try. Dax drops into the chair across from us, stretching his legs out with a contented sigh and cracking open a beer.

For the first time in weeks, everything feels…calm.

I lean into Luca’s side, letting the warmth of him chase away the last of the day’s tension. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my arm. I can feel him smiling against my hair.

This is nice.

This is what normal could look like.

Then the side gate clicks open. Whitney walks in with a bright, fake smile plastered on her face. My stomach tries to drop out of my ass. Is this where the other shoe drops? Will everything be yanked away from me now?

“Hey! Surprise visit!” she calls out, voice too cheerful. “I was in the area and thought I’d drop by to say hi to everyone. I heard Luca was home. I brought wine.”

She steps onto the patio, still smiling, until her gaze lands on us—me tucked against Luca’s side, his arm around my shoulders, our bodies relaxed and close on the lounger.

The smile drops instantly. Her expression twists, hurt flashing first, followed quickly by anger, before turning into something ugly.

“Really, Luca? You brought him home, to your parents’ house? This is our place.”

I try to sit up, and Luca’s arm tightens around me, holding me in place. “Whitney, this isn’t the time for whatever you think this is.”

“No, it’s the perfect fucking time,” she snaps. Her eyes lock on me, dismissive and cold. “You think you’re actually special? You’re not better than me, because he’s playing house with you for a few weeks. He’ll get bored. He always does. Then we will be back together. You’re just the new shiny thing until the next bright thing comes along and catches his attention.”