The Heart Chaser by Gina Azzi

Prologue

Six Months Earlier

Luca

Abead of sweat rolls over the swell of Abbi’s breast, sinking lower and disappearing into the material of her dress. I can’t tear my eyes away if I want to. Who am I kidding? I sure as fuck don’t want to.

I bite my bottom lip and continue to stare, unashamed when she turns in my arms and grasps my chin, realigning my focus to her face.

“You’re staring again,” she murmurs.

“It’s hard not to.”

She tries to fight her smile but loses. “Well, stop being so obvious about it,” she warns playfully.

I smirk and shift on the barstool, which is tough to do considering her ass is grinding against my lap as she reaches across the bar and picks up two more tequila shots that Pete, the bartender, placed down. Damn, I’m ready to get out of Taps and take Abbi Walsh back to my place, my bed, for round two. Night two.

A body bumps into my side and I turn, a lazy grin rolling over my lips when I spot my captain’s girl, Chloe. She’s also Abbi’s best friend and I can tell by the nervous way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear that she’s worried about her girl.

Ah, to have a reputation that precedes me. Usually I prefer it that way but tonight…tonight, I’m breaking my own damn rules. I never go back for seconds but something about this woman makes me want another taste.

Not just want…crave.

“We’re going to head out,” Chloe says, gesturing toward Austin. “Do you guys want to come with?” She keeps her eyes trained on Abbi and I press my lips together not to laugh.

“I’m good, Chlo. Swear it,” Abbi replies. Good girl. I slide my hand higher on her leg, my fingers gripping at her inner thigh a smidge tighter than necessary. Her ass settles more firmly against my hard length and I cough back a groan.

“Don’t worry,” I tell Chloe. “I’ll take care of our girl.” I’ll take care of her all right. Images of last night, taking Abbi in the center of my bed, up against the door to my closet, then again, in the shower, flicker through my mind.

Chloe leaves with Austin and a moment later, Abbi turns again, her lips just grazing mine. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Fuck yes.”

She giggles, the sound sweet. But I’m not interested in sweet. I’m interested in tonight, this moment, with this woman. I signal for Pete to close out my tab and slip my phone from my back pocket to order an Uber.

Abbi and I step out into the sticky heat of July together. While I normally prefer the winters—I live in Boston, bred in Philly—right now, I’m grateful for the heat. Because Abbi Walsh rocks curves for days and they’re barely concealed in the tight, crochet dress she’s wearing like a second skin. It should look hideous, like something my Nonna Angie would knit. Instead, it’s sexy as fuck, clinging to her curves. It’s nude colored and by the hard nubs of her nipples, it’s clear that she’s got nothing on underneath.

I help her into the Uber and slide in beside her, my hand once again planting on her thigh. This girl is like a drug, one hit and I already want more. It’s disconcerting, this feeling. I don’t know whether to run from it or lean into it. But it’s just one more night, right? Abbi’s only in town for a bachelorette party weekend. Then, she heads back to Hoboken, New Jersey and I get on with my life: my family, hockey, and girls with no drama.

She checks her phone, oblivious to the thoughts running through my mind, which is a bit of an ego check. Usually, women are desperate for my attention. Hell, they even do stupid shit like make out with each other, to get it. But not Abbi.

Nope, this chick played it cool from the moment I met her, uttering some bullshit about being into players and not the game. A flicker of annoyance runs through me when I recall she doesn’t watch hockey. How the hell does one not like the greatest game ever invented?

I narrow my eyes, studying her expression. Her plush lips have tightened, her carefree expression from Taps now pinched. I glance at her screen but the letters swim.

“More bachelorette drama?” I joke, since the party ended last night with all the girls going in different directions.

She sighs heavily and stuffs her phone back into the tiny bag she’s toting around. “It’s nothing. Just my boss. Work stuff.”

I snort. “Work? It’s”—I lean forward to glance at the time on the car’s dashboard—“one a.m. on a Saturday night. Tell your boss to fuck off.”

I expect her laughter but when she glances at her lap, I know that whatever is going on is more than that. Curiosity flares through me but the uncertainty in Abbi’s expression has me biting back my words. I get it; I’m not usually a sharer either. Who wants to discuss feelings and crap when we could spend our time doing better, more interesting things?

“Hey.” I reach out, lifting her chin. “Forget work. Let’s just have fun, okay?”

She holds my eyes for a long moment. So long I begin to feel hot under her scrutiny. And not hot and bothered hot. Hot like itchy hot…like Abbi can see past the veneer of bullshit I like to coat myself in so I don’t have to do the whole feelings and crap bit.

“Okay,” she murmurs finally.

I flash her a grin followed by a wink. It’s a relief when she settles more firmly into my side and I wrap my arm around her shoulders, hold her close. Not that this will go anywhere but for tonight, it feels nice to have a woman like Abbi under my arm.

It feels a hell of a lot more natural than it’s supposed to.

* * *

Fuck.My body is weightless. Right now, I’m not in my bed, my legs tangled in my duvet, but in the middle of the Atlantic, floating along the tops of waves. I glance out the corner of my eye at Abbi. Who is this sexy temptress who managed to make my body break apart like that?

How was I supposed to hold on when she shattered on my cock, calling out my name like I was some kind of god, her eyes wild and reckless? A small ring of vulnerability edged her irises, which should have scared the shit out of me. Instead, I reveled in it and let her trust push me over the edge.

I swallow thickly, reaching out to pull her naked body against my chest. I’m not usually a cuddler but Abbi’s leaving tomorrow, and for the first time in my life, I want the night to extend well into the following morning. I want to soak up all these little moments I usually rebuff.

On my nightstand, her phone buzzes and she blows out a sigh.

A wave of jealousy rises in my gut, intense and unprecedented. I bite down hard, trying to dispel the unpleasant emotion. At least Abbi didn’t answer the call.

I press a kiss to the back of her neck, my tongue darting out and catching her earlobe. She sighs, contentedly this time, and I savor the swell of pride that rises in my chest.

Buzz. Buzz.

“Who keeps blowing up your number?” I ask.

“Damn.” She moves to answer it which irks me.

I flop back onto my pillow and watch as she swings her legs to the side of the bed and swipes the phone up, her movements jerky.

“I told you not to call me again,” she bites out through clenched teeth.

At that, I sit straight up, moving toward her. But she tosses out a hand, keeping me at arm’s length, which I both respect and despise. Is some dick giving her a hard time? Harassing her? Or is it a one-night lay who won’t take a hint?

Unease followed by frustration blows through me and I’m instantly awake, all my former orgasmic bliss dissipating. Now, I’m on edge, tense and tuned into every little emotion that flits across Abbi’s face.

Her dark hair hangs like a sheet down her naked back. All long, shiny locks I want to run my fingers through. I reach out and play with the ends of her hair, wanting to touch her in some way. Have her connected to me because I can’t stand the thought of her having a one-night anything with someone else.

“I’m not joking around, Phil.”

Phil? Who the hell is Phil?

“You’re making things harder for me,” she admits, her voice strangled.

In the next moment, she pushes off the bed and strides into the bathroom, the door closing behind her.

The vibe in my bedroom changes drastically, the temperature dropping as if all the heat went with her. I fall back against my pillow, my frustration spiking. More than anything, I want to stride into the bathroom and demand…what? That Abbi answer my questions? That we keep in touch after this weekend?

The door to the bathroom opens and I look up as Abbi walks toward me, full hips, pert breasts, and a scowl. My dick hardens beneath the sheet as a flood of desire hits me, my need to remind her just how good it can be between us skyrocketing.

“You okay?” I ask, genuinely curious.

Abbi tips her chin at me and climbs back onto the bed, swinging a leg over my body.

She collects my hands in hers and pushes them over my head, her hair and breasts swinging into my line of vision as she leans forward. “Ready for round two, Luca?”

I nod, my throat too dry to form words. I want to ask her what happened, but I can barely think when she rolls her hips over mine. Abbi Walsh knocked me off my game real fast and right now, I don’t care. I want to fall in line while she calls the shots.

“Everyone calls me Panda,” I admit for no reason.

The corners of her mouth curl. Not quite a smile but no longer a scowl. “I like Luca.”

“I like it when you say it, too.”

She lowers her face slowly and when her lips meet mine, I bite lightly on her lower lip, egging her on. She kisses me hard, passionately, and I revel in it, letting her set the pace this time. It’s aggressive and delicious. Intense and fierce.

Shit. Being with Abbi Walsh leaves me reeling.

“You’re ruining me,” I pant out, half joking but half not, after we’ve both climaxed for the third time tonight.

She chuckles. “That’s the point.”

“Who’s Phil?” I ask, my voice light, but I’m more than just curious. I’m fucking desperate to know who the hell he is and more importantly, what he means to Abbi.

She gazes at me over her shoulder, turning fully until her upper body is splayed across my chest. Her eyes catch mine again, searching. At first glance, they’re ordinary brown. But on closer inspection, they’re not brown at all. Flecks of gold, sprinkles of green, the tiniest infusion of blue… She’s got eyes like a marble. “Phil’s a long story,” she says finally.

“You in trouble?”

“I hope not.”

I frown, hating her vague responses when two weeks ago, I would have high-fived her for them. But not now that I’m leaning. Now, I want more. “What’s going on?” I ask quietly, my fingers lightly swiping up her back.

She freezes under my touch before relaxing again. “I made a mistake. At the time, I didn’t think… I never expected things to turn out the way they are.” She shoots me a half smirk but her eyes are too big. A glint of fear rings her irises. “You ever do something when you knew better?”

I nod slowly, mentally flipping through the mistakes I’ve made. There’s a lot but the latest is thinking I have a chance with the beautiful brunette before me. I have no clue how to be the kind of guy a woman like Abbi would want. She’s motivated, intelligent, and sincere. It’s only been two nights and the things I feel for her have ballooned into something bigger than the weekend. “Yeah,” I murmur, tilting my head to study her. My thumb traces her lip. “But the worst was not being there for my family the way I should have, the way I knew I should have, when I went off to college. I knew my siblings counted on me for a lot, they have since my mom passed when I was in high school. But I wanted my freedom and when I finally got it, I went all in. Kind of left them behind.” Regret colors my words. Even though I’ve since made up for that wild period of my youth, tenfold, showing up for Pop, my stepmom, and my brothers and sisters constantly, that slip in judgement still pricks at me.

“Your mom passed?” Her eyes widen, her voice dropping.

I nod. What the hell am I doing? I rarely, if ever, talk about my mom. I clear my throat. “I was fourteen.”

“That must have been hard,” she says and I’m grateful she doesn’t flip me some apology just because it’s what you’re supposed to do.

“It was.” I press my lips together but a moment later, more words slip past. “At the time, when I was first recruited to play Division One, I thought my actions were justified. By then, Pop had already remarried.” I tip my head toward Abbi. “He married my high school English lit teacher, which is a whole other story. But Ms. Green was kind of my person, my sounding board, after Mom passed and when she started dating Pop…”

“Things got weird?”

“Definitely strained,” I agree, hating how angry I was with Pop during that time. “It wasn’t until later that I realized it was mostly selfishness on my part.”

“Or coping,” she says, surprising me. Her eyes take on a faraway look. “My parents died too.”

“Both of them?” I ask in disbelief, her story shining my past in a different light. One a hell of a lot less bleak than I usually consider it.

She nods. “My mom when I was twelve. She was incredible.” A soft smile touches her lips before it falls, a hardness lining her face. “My dad, well, he hasn’t been in the picture in a long time. He walked out on us when I was eight for his new family, the one he was building when he was still married to Mom.” She turns away and I can tell she’s trying to school the expression on her face. When she speaks again, her voice is direct, hard and cold, like a bullet. “I heard from his other family that he passed two years ago.”

My throat tightens, a wave of empathy rising. I don’t want Abbi to think I’m pitying her, especially since I know how much it sucks to be on the receiving end of pity, but my chest squeezes at how much she’s lost. My hand stills in the center of her back. “That sucks, Abbi.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Must have been really fucking tough.”

She shrugs. “My gran raised me.”

I wrap my arms tighter around her, hating that she stiffens. “Is she, do you see her often?”

She blows out a breath, relaxing slightly. “As much as I can. She’s in a nursing home now. Her health has declined over the past few years. She’s the closest person in the world to me and it’s weird knowing that when she…well, it’ll just be me then.”

Swallowing becomes difficult as the emotion clogging my throat grows at Abbi’s words. I have a loud, rambunctious family and while we’re usually too involved in each other’s lives, I’ve never considered the alternative. I’ve never even thought about if I didn’t have my siblings and their kids around. “Have you ever reached out to your dad? Your…half-siblings?”

Her face falls and her eyes swim with moisture. What the hell am I doing? This is supposed to be casual and now…now, I feel sick that my questions are causing her pain. I’m about to tell her to forget it when she responds.

“Once,” she whispers, wicking away a tear with a knuckle. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. What happened?”

She lets out a big exhale, her eyes studying mine intently. “I tracked him down. Showed up at his home. It was my junior year of high school and I just got my license. He didn’t even live far away, only three towns over from mine. All those years, I thought he was in California or Texas or someplace different. I made up all these stories about him in my head, excuses to explain why he never came around, made an appearance at my birthday parties, spent a holiday with me. And he was right…there.”

I pull her closer and kiss the side of her head as anger builds in my veins.

“I parked across the street and just…watched. His new wife was pretty. His kids were small. And after they had this picture-perfect dinner at their dining table, he came outside to throw out the garbage. I approached him and…I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” I say, my tone soft. “It matters, Abbi.”

She wets her lips. “He asked me what I was doing there. He asked if I have any respect for him, for his life, his family.” She winces, and more tears fall. “He told me I was a mistake and my presence would mess up his life, the good thing he had going on. Basically, he discarded me as easily as the trash bag.”

Fuck. My stomach clenches at the expression on her face. Hot anger burns through me and even though I never met her father, I hate the man who gave her life and didn’t stick around to see her embrace it. “He never deserved you.”

She bites her bottom lip, trying to force a smile. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you deserved a hell of a lot better than what you got.” What kind of man steps out on his family? On his kid? I frown as my sister Nikki’s life flares to mind. My worthless brother-in-law left her a few months after their first child, Valentina, was born. My other sister, Justine, lost her husband too. But Dean was one of the greatest men I’ve ever known, and his being killed by a drunk driver cut my entire family off at the knees.

Abbi sighs and presses her palms against my chest. A wariness fills her eyes and I can relate; we’re both sharing more than we bargained for tonight. “Sorry, I just made that a lot more real then—”

“No,” I cut her off, tapping her ass. “You’re just being honest.”

She shrugs, her eyes serious. While I should change the subject, distract her from the too real thing we’re doing right now, I move closer. I want her words. Her thoughts. Her goddamn feelings and crap.

“You ever want more than one night?” she asks, reading my mind. “More than just the moment?”

“We’ve spent two nights together,” I remind her.

She bites lightly on my index finger and I pull my hand back, laughing. “Are we having the talk, Abs?”

At this, she laughs, amusement flaring in her eyes. “No, Luca. I’m not asking you how many women you’ve slept with.”

“That’s a relief.” I grin saucily, but at the seriousness in her expression I continue to share. “But I thought the talk was more about commitment?”

Abbi chuckles, dipping her head in acknowledgement as something I can’t read flares in her eyes. “Definitely not ready for that. You know me, I’m just over here keeping things light.”

I laugh with her since we just had one crazy intense, serious conversation. “Yeah, that’s you.”

She smirks, but her eyes remain pinned to mine.

“To answer your question, not really. I know what my reputation is and I do nothing to help it. Women know exactly what they’re getting when they climb into my bed.” I wince at how the words sound when they’re out in the space between us. Abbi’s eyes dim and my chest tightens, uncomfortable. I clear my throat and toss out more unexpected honesty. “But with the right woman, yeah, I’d want more. Doesn’t everyone?”

Slowly, she nods. “I just don’t want to be naive,” she says quietly. “Every time I trust a man…” She trails off. “Well, it never works out the way I think it will.”

I hate the sadness that streaks across her expression. I hate the failure that flares in her eyes because I’ve seen my sister Nikki wear it on too many occasions.

“Hey.” I pinch her side. “You’re not naive, Abbi.”

“You barely know me, Luca.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true. I know that you growl when you—”

“All right,” she cuts me off, her hand slapping over my mouth. But she’s laughing and that makes me feel like I just saved a game by catching the puck at the buzzer.

I roll her until she’s settled beneath me. Dipping forward, I drop a kiss to her mouth. “Everything you’ve showed me of yourself this weekend has been the opposite of naive. You’re independent, you know what you want, and you’re not afraid to ask for it. You’re a good friend, putting up with that bachelorette bullshit. You’re loyal, worrying about Chloe the way you do.” I pause, realizing that I’m gazing into Abbi’s eyes like I want to fall into them and stay awhile. I brush her hair back from her face. “Don’t beat yourself up, babe. Not about things in the past that can’t be changed.”

I lower my head and kiss her again, wrapping her up in my embrace. I keep my arms around her as I doze off to sleep, the buzz of alcohol, the intensity of our connection, catching up with me.

I wake early the following morning, mostly from habit. I need to get up, get a run in, have a smoothie. But when I glance at my bedmate, with her tangled dark hair and long, black eyelashes, I don’t want to leave the bed. Her.

It’s an intense realization because it’s the first time I’ve had it. I’ve seen firsthand how much love, real love, destroys a person. First, my Pop, when Mom died. Then, my sister, Nicole, when her husband took off. I’ve watched the loss of Layla devastate my teammate James and held my sister Justine as she wailed over Dean’s lifeless body.

Of course, there’s happy examples too—Noah, Easton, and Torsten come to mind. Jesus, even Cap is shacking up with Chloe now.

But when you’re raised in a house overflowing with love and light, with laughter and fun, and the matriarch of the household, the glue that holds it all together, is suddenly gone, the shadow stamps out all the remaining glow.

I watched Pop fall apart until he met my stepmother. I watched Nicole break when she learned her husband was cheating on her while she was pregnant with their first child. Since then, I’ve stepped up for my family in all the ways that matter. I don’t have the mental bandwidth to be a man for anyone else. Most days, I don’t want to be. But today…

I brush Abbi’s hair back from her forehead, grinning at the soft snore that whistles from her nose. I wish I didn’t have so much fun with her this weekend. I wish I didn’t like her so damn much. Because a part of me wants to see her again, even knowing it’s a dangerous step. Could we keep in touch? Be…friendly? It’s not like she won’t be coming to Boston to visit Chloe.

When she’s in town, could we kick it? Have some drinks and laughs together?

I chew the corner of my mouth, liking the way she looks in my bed. Liking her sexed-up hair and the makeup smudges underneath her eyes.

Her eyes flutter open and a slow smile covers her lips as she catches me watching her.

“You’re checking me out pretty hard,” she calls me out.

I smirk, crawling closer to her luscious lips. “I’ve got something else that’s hard.”

She squeals as I wrap her up in a giant hug and kiss her.

“I need to brush my teeth!” She pushes at my chest. “Morning breath.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Not letting your ass out of this bed until you have to go.”

She sobers for a second, stilling in my arms. “I had fun this weekend, Luca.”

“Me too, Abbi Walsh. But it doesn’t have to just be this weekend. You could, you know, reach out when you’re in Boston.”

“I could,” she says slowly, lifting an eyebrow. Damn, I love how she even calls me out silently.

“I’ll call you,” I tell her, meaning it.

“We’ll see,” she says noncommittally.

“I mean it, Abbi. You’re not walking out of here that easily,” I half joke, wondering why the hell I’m complicating my life. Can’t I just kiss her goodbye? No. I can’t. Because I don’t want her to leave.

“Are you for real right now?” she asks lightly, but her eyes search mine with a seriousness that causes the space between us to shift.

I shake my head. “You deserve a good man, Abbi. One who doesn’t make you feel naive. One who keeps his word. Don’t settle for less than that.”

She draws in a sharp inhale, and I drop my head to kiss her lips.

I don’t know why I say it like I could be that man. I’m not that guy and I know it the second the words are out of my mouth. But for her, I’d want to be.

The realization scares me because…Jesus, it’s a lot. I don’t do morning afters. I don’t even do second-night stands. And everything that transpired between Abbi and me is a million times more than anything I’ve done in the past decade.

She leaves an hour later and for a bit, my condo feels empty without her presence. It’s like she filled it up with energy, the kind Mom used to exude, and now that she’s gone, the space plunged back into shades of gray.

I swear and force myself to go for a run. I need the workout and running helps clear my head. When I return, I strip my bed, suddenly desperate to wash the scent of Abbi—lilac and vanilla—off my sheets so it doesn’t torture me.

My phone rings and I pick it up to talk to my sister. “Hey, Nikki.”

“Luca?” Her voice is strangled and a cold fear drips down my spine.

“What’s wrong?” I ask automatically.

“It’s Pop.”

“What happened?” I sink to the edge of my bed, the sheets pooling around my feet from where I tossed them to the floor.

“He had a heart attack.”

I close my eyes, waiting for the words she hasn’t said yet.

“The doctors think he’s going to be okay but,” Nikki sobs, “it’s just so awful, Luca.”

“Fuck.” I swear, hanging my head. “How’s Jenni?” I ask about our stepmother. Even before she married Pop, she was like a second mother to me.

“Not well.”

“I’m getting on the next flight. Shit, Nik.”

“I know. I know. Just, come home, okay? We need you.”

“Of course,” I say on autopilot. I’m already walking to my laptop, pulling up a search engine to find the first flight to Philly.

I leave the sheets on the floor, the condo a mess, as I throw together a bag and head to the airport. I spend the rest of the summer, until training camps start, in Philadelphia trying to get Pop on a new lifestyle routine. I take over his and Jenni’s finances while he’s out of work. I fill in as dad for my sisters’ kids. I help my brother Robbie remodel his basement.

By the time I return full-time to Boston at the end of the summer, Abbi Walsh is a sweet memory. She’s a reminder of a fun, exciting weekend I can never get back. She’s a moment I savor on difficult nights. A woman who made me feel and want so much more than a weekend but ultimately, one who deserves more than I can give.

Abbi Walsh is a reminder that I don’t do love. I only do heartbreak.

And I prove it because I never call her.