The Heart Chaser by Gina Azzi
Abbi
“Margaritas are better than water,” I trip over my words to Selina, the bartender.
“How do you figure?” She tips her head, her gaze sympathetic.
“They go down just as easy but have more of a…a zest, you know?” I blabber on, too miserable to be embarrassed for my rambling.
“I hear that, sis.” Selina clinks her water glass against mine and takes a long pull on the straw. “I wish I was sitting on your side of the bar, tossing back tequila with you and your friend.”
I look in the direction of the bathroom where Chloe loped off several minutes ago. I’d bet my life that she’s calling Austin, which means, Luca will shortly know where I’m hiding out. I turn back to my colorful beverage, running my index finger through the salt on the rim.
Sighing, I meet Selina’s eyes. “When’s your shift over? I’m not going anywhere.”
Her smile widens but she shakes her head. “I’m working a double. Heading over to Taps next.”
I frown. “You work at two bars?”
“I work wherever I can make money. I’m an aspiring actress, keyword there is aspiring, so…whatever pays the bills.” She shrugs, reaching for a shaker and more tequila. “Want to try a habanero one next?”
“Sure,” I agree. “Just keep them coming.”
“You got it,” Selina says but I see her eyes cut to the other side of the bar. When I turn, I see Chloe and sigh. At some point, someone responsible is going to cut me off.
Good news? That someone doesn’t have to be me. I drain my drink and push the empty glass in Selina’s direction just as Chloe sits back down.
“How ya doing?”
I point to Selina, shaking up the margaritas. “We’re moving on to habanero.”
Chloe shakes her head. “Abbi, we have to think positively. This isn’t the end of the world.”
My mouth pops open, chagrin flooding my system. “It’s the end of my world, Chlo. Everyone has seen my hoo-ha. And I do mean everyone.”
“I haven’t,” Selina tosses out, placing two more margaritas down.
“Thank you for making that choice,” I tell her truthfully.
Selina smirks. “Men suck.”
“Tell me about it,” I agree.
“But they’re not all bad.” She gestures toward Chloe. “Austin’s a great guy and James treats my bestie, Bella, like a queen.”
“True,” I grumble, thinking about Luca. “Luca Pandatelli is the best man I know.”
Surprise flares in Selina’s eyes but she nods. “See?”
“But what will he think?” I nearly wail, the tequila hitting me now. My words slur softly, too many syllables colliding.
“That you’re a strong, resilient woman, who was put in a compromising situation,” Chloe explains rationally.
Selina nods and I feel my self-pity morphing into anger. Why doesn’t anyone understand how humiliating this is? How I feel about two inches tall? How the thought of facing Luca, a man with a larger-than-life personality and too big heart, makes me feel like puking?
The door to Jolene’s swings open and Selina’s eyes widen. Chloe’s hand settles on my forearm.
Without turning around, I know Luca just entered the bar. But I would have known even without Selina and Chloe’s reactions. My body tightens and my nerves dance along my skin. I’m so in tune to Luca’s presence, that I would feel him anywhere.
I drop my eyes closed and suck in an inhale, mentally preparing myself for his disappointment and disgust.
His hand wraps around the back of my neck, heavy and strong. My eyes fly open as I’m whipped backwards, barely able to steady myself, before Luca’s lips descend on mine. His mouth is hot, his kiss intense. He kisses me with the simmering rage I feel surging just below my skin. He kisses me like he can absorb my pain and make it his. He kisses me hard, letting me know he’s just as angry as I am but still…he’s here.
“Let me get one of those, Lina,” he orders, slipping onto the barstool beside me.
Austin shoots me a wink and a small smile before pulling Chloe down the bar, giving Luca and me some privacy.
“What are you doing here?” I turn toward Luca.
His eyes narrow as he studies me. “Was worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are,” he agrees, nodding. “Thanks,” he says to Selina. Then he taps the bottom of his glass against the rim of mine. “What are we drinking to?”
I narrow my eyes back. “What do you think?”
“Egotistical jocks with small dicks?”
I snort out a laugh, not expecting that.
“Or shitty liars who break vows?”
I dip my chin in confirmation.
“I know.” He snaps his fingers. “The bullshit double standard that shames women while applauding men?”
I take a large gulp of my margarita.
“Cheers, baby.” Luca takes a drink of his, placing his glass down on the bar. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
“Get drunk?”
“Any of it. Whatever you want to do, however you want to handle this, I’m in.”
“You can’t mean that.” I roll my eyes to play off his words. But moisture floods my eyes at his kindness and something deep in my chest shifts. Who is this man? Can he be real? Can I trust it? Him?
A tenderness I’ve never seen before ripples over his expression. His lips part the tiniest bit, the tip of his tongue hitting his upper lip. He stares at me as if realizing, for the first time, just how deeply hurt and humiliated I feel. My heart is weary and sad. I’ve been wearing spiky edges, my tongue coated in barbs, as a protective shell for a long time. His fingers sweep my hair back, playing over the shell of my ear, brushing over the curve of my face. “Every goddamn word.”
I frown, not following.
“I love you, Abbi Walsh. I mean every goddamn word I say to you. I don’t give a shit about your past, baby, because I’ve got a past of my own. So however you want to play the present, count me in.”
Selina’s gasp rings in my eardrums like a gong.
My mouth falls open, my eyes widen, and my heart races. He’s for real.
“Luca,” I breathe out.
He gives me that lopsided grin I love and tugs me forward, until I slip off the barstool, my feet hit the floor, and his knees cradle my frame, cocooning me. He kisses me again, hard and certain, as if the mess that is my life didn’t scare him away.
As if we’re unshakeable.
And I want to believe in that so badly that I close my eyes and kiss him back.
* * *
“She’s sleeping,”Luca’s voice wraps around my subconsciousness, gently tugging me from sleep.
I roll over in his bed, my head thrumming and my mouth drier than that Sahara. Margaritas. Shit.
I drop my hand on my face, rubbing my eyes open. I’m wrapped up in Luca’s comforter and the door to his bedroom is ajar, the light from the living room flooding in.
What time is it? I grope around the bed for my cell phone as Luca speaks again. “Yeah, it was a rough day.”
He sounds exhausted and a flicker of guilt shoots through me. I added more stress to his plate, when he’s in the middle of hockey season and balancing all the things out for his family. I close my eyes again and rest my head back against the pillow.
“Fuck, man. Whatever you gotta do to get those photos down. I don’t give a shit how much it costs or whose cock you need to suck. That’s my girl and I’ll be damned if fucking perverts across the country are gonna leer at her while they jack off.”
I hiccup, laughter and disbelief and confusion rolling through me. I’ve seen charming, playful, endearing Luca Pandatelli before. I’ve even been introduced to tender, thoughtful, genuine Luca. But this version, serious, strong, and aggressive? I love that he’s going to bat for me even though I didn’t ask him to. I love that he cares enough to fight for me, even right now, when I’m not worth fighting for.
“Make it happen,” he demands. Then, silence.
I’m about to pull myself from his bed when his phone rings again and he swears.
“What’s up, Nikki?” Tiredness rounds out his words and I feel for him. How difficult it must be to be the man everyone needs? To show up all the time, for so many people? And now, to be the man I need on top of everything else?
“Shit,” he murmurs, his voice low. I can picture him tipping his head back, his eyes closed. He sounds drained, emotionally and mentally fatigued, and I start to swing my legs to the side of his bed.
“No, I get what you’re saying. Fuck, she wouldn’t even be in this position if she wasn’t linked to me. That’s what sucks the most. If I didn’t play hockey, or have some athletic career, those pictures wouldn’t have blown up the way they did. I feel sick about it.”
I falter, reaching out to steady myself on the corner of his nightstand. He feels guilty? About my photos? I bite down so hard, the copper taste of blood fills my mouth. This isn’t on Luca; this is on me.
I stand, knowing I need to tell him as much, when his next words make me sit back down.
“Of course, we’re still coming to Robbie’s promotion dinner.” A pause, followed by a swear. “I didn’t even think of that. The guys are taking the piss? Fuck that. Look, as long as no one runs their mouths to Abbi, there won’t be an issue. But if one fucker looks at her sideways, I can’t promise they won’t get my fist in their face.”
I wince. Of course, my photos are all over Philadelphia. They’re all over Boston and probably loads of cities and pretty much everywhere Internet exists in the U.S. I’m not saying it like it’s an ego thing. For sure, I wish no one ever saw those images after Phil took them. I never should have let him take them. Or, at the very least, I should have deleted them afterwards.
But now, my vagina is everywhere and everyone is getting an up close and personal look.
I feel my cheeks flame at the thought. Poor Robbie is probably hearing an earload right now, as he prepares to step into a more senior position and accept a promotion. My stomach rolls as my embarrassment blazes.
My hands tremble and my head pounds as I lie back down. I can’t go to Robbie’s promotion. There’s no way in hell I can walk into any type of public event with Luca by my side and embarrass the shit out of his family after he’s done everything he can to keep them safe and healthy and cared for.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll talk to her about it,” Luca says from the other room.
Humiliation floods through me. His family is talking about me. No, they’re talking about what to do about me. I’m nothing but a problem, a burden, an inconvenience to all who know me. If I wasn’t, one would think that one of the men in my life would have stuck around these past thirty-plus years.
I blow out a shaky exhale, feeling mortified, angry, and yeah, a little sad for myself too. Luca is a good man and he shouldn’t have to defend me to the nation and to his family.
“I’ll talk to you later, Nik.” He ends the call.
I hear him shuffle around in the next room. I roll onto my side and pull the comforter up over my shoulders. There’s no way I can face him now. What would I even say? What the hell do I even want to do?
The door to his bedroom widens and more light floods in. I snap my eyes closed and feign sleep.
Luca approaches the bed, his footsteps quiet, his breathing even. His hand cups the side of my cheek, his fingers brushing lazily through my hair.
“We’re gonna be okay, Abs,” he whispers.
I keep my eyes shut, wondering if he’s trying to convince me or himself.