The Heart Chaser by Gina Azzi
Abbi
Ispent the day brunching and shopping in Hoboken with Chloe. We visited our favorite boutiques, enjoyed the best coffee, and treated ourselves to fresh pedicures. I confided in her about Phil sending me photos and subtle threats for months, and how much it messed with my head. The fallout with Phil made me fearful to trust my instincts.
It was over drinks at Lulu’s that Chloe asked me what I’m going to do about Luca. “You’re punishing yourself, Abbi. You love him.”
“I love him,” I admitted. “But can I trust him?”
“What do you think?” she challenged.
I shrug.
My best friend shook her head and in an eerily accurate impersonation of Gran, said, “Take a leap of faith, Abigail.”
That was three hours ago. Now, I’m at the cemetery where I buried Gran nearly four months ago to the day. The days leading up to her funeral were chaotic. The planning and preparations kept me too busy to be inside my head. After I kissed her goodbye, I threw myself into job hunting, letting work consume me so I didn’t have to think.
But right now, it’s just me and the tombstones, and the full weight of losing Gran hits me. It’s quickly followed by a pang of missing Luca. I wish he was here right now, slipping his hand in mine, meeting my Gran as I say the goodbye I’ve been holding back.
The thought surprises me and tears spring to my eyes. Jesus, I’ve cried more this week than in the past year and while I know on some level that I’m grieving, the display of emotion irks me.
Dry your eyes, lift your head, and straighten your spine.
Gran’s voice floats through my mind as I slump next to her tombstone. It’s a somber day in March, gray and cold and cloudy. It’s fitting, given my mood, and I snuggle up against Gran’s name, lovingly etched into the granite.
“I miss you, Gran,” I sigh, tucking my knees up to my chest. I drag my fingers over the patches of grass, interspersed with hard ground and small rocks. The cemetery is empty today and I’m glad, since I have no idea how long I’ll be sitting here, trying to find the words, the peace to move forward.
Are there any words to say goodbye to the person who means the most to you? Is there anything left to say, or do, once they’re truly gone?
“I messed up,” I force out. “Big time. But I guess you already knew that.” During Gran’s last months, I was spiraling from Phil. I spent as much time as possible with Gran and there were moments, snapshots, where she was lucid enough to recognize me. And every time a spark of awareness, a flicker of knowing, would spring into her eyes, she would remind me:
Dry your eyes, lift your head, and straighten your spine.
Even Gran knew I was devastated, beaten down by life. In those brief moments where I was me and she was still her, she saw me so clearly my chest ached.
Gran was not one to let life beat her down. She was fierce and brave and my rock.
A shaky sob escapes my throat as I clutch at a tuft of grass and rip it from the earth. “Why’d you leave me? You know I can’t do this without you.” My words are carried away with a gust of wind, scattered. I toss the blades of grass back down. “I met someone. A good man,” I say, knowing in my heart that Luca is one of the best ones. “He may become a father,” I add after a beat. “Do you think a man could be a good father and a good partner? Even if the two aren’t connected?” I pause, turning to glance at Gran’s name. Ethel Walsh. The sight of it causes me to smile.
“Anyway, I did what I always do. Ran. Hid.” I sigh again, glancing up at the sky. Thick clouds are rolling in, angry and dark, filled with rain. “But how can I be with a guy who won’t step up? Be a father to his kid?”
He doesn’t know if it’s his kid. In fact, he swears it isn’t.
But wouldn’t any guy do that? Not want the child?
The thought pops into my mind, quickly followed by shame. I think of Chloe’s dad. I’ve never seen a man dote on his daughter the way Mr. C adores Chlo. I think of Noah and the way his face lights up when he reaches for Emmaline.
God, why am I so messed up? I tap the back of my head against Gran’s tombstone and close my eyes. “Can I trust him, Gran?”
Silence meets my ears and then, a low rumble of thunder in the distance.
“Why do I keep chasing after the guys who lie and cheat? Why do I do stupid shit to impress them and pass up on the guys who are honest and sincere?”
The wind comes harder now, slapping against my cheeks. I lift my chin to meet it. A small smile curls the corners of my mouth because I can feel Gran’s anger, her wrath. She hated when a woman spoke poorly of herself. She had no tolerance for self-pity either.
“Do you think he’s the one?” I ask the emptiness. Except it’s not empty because she’s here. I can feel her in the hard ground beneath me, in the wicked wind around me, in the heavy sky above me. She’s pressing in on me, fierce and bold and real.
“Tell me what to do!” I demand as the rain starts. It’s only two or three drops before the entire sky opens and sheets pour down, thick and hard, pelting my skin like hail. Like pinches. I grin.
“I love you, Gran,” I shout as lightning cracks the sky, unapologetically lighting up the city skyline. I laugh, shaking my head.
My gran was never the sweet, little old lady who knit scarves and baked cookies.
She was a tempest and always gave as good as she got. She raised me after all.
I revel in the storm, opening my palms to catch the rain, lifting my face to greet the wind. The breeze kisses my cheeks harshly and the thunder rolls through me like a hug, all encompassing.
“What do you think?” I whisper again, my eyes squeezed closed, my heart open to the signs she’s gifting me.
Images of Luca flip through my mind on a loop. That first night, with his cocky smirk and smooth lines. Him, standing in goal, sure and confident and locked in. His dark, smoldering bedroom eyes, and the softness that rounds out his tone when he tells me he loves me. It’s almost like I can feel his arms around me, phantom though they are, rooting me to this moment.
I’ve spent my life running from things that seem too good to be true. Maybe that’s why I kept choosing the wrong men. Maybe deep down, I always knew I couldn’t trust them and when they hurt me, it added to the self-fulfilling prophecy I kept feeding myself.
But Luca…his text messages, his defending me to his friends, his team, the whole damn world… Luca Pandatelli has proven over and over again that he’ll show up for me. That I can trust him and count on him and need him.
Rain pelts my skin, sliding down my face. “What do you think, Gran?” I ask again, feeling my own resolve strengthen in my stomach. Is he the one?
Dry your eyes, lift your head, and straighten your spine.
The wind howls and thunder strikes.
My eyes pop open and I sit up, looking straight ahead as a figure, the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on, appears before me.
“What are you doing here, Luca?” I gasp, surprise rocking me harder than the thunder.
His blue eyes blaze, the hottest part of a flame, and his face smolders, an inferno. Luca’s body is imposing on a normal day but right now, he’s a giant, larger than life, and sent to me from her.
“I already told you; I’m all in, Abbi.” His words, coupled with the sincerity of his expression, keep me pinned in place. Suddenly, I know. I accept what maybe I’ve known all along; Luca Pandatelli is worth taking a chance on. Not just a chance, but a risk. He’s been chasing after my heart, my trust, for a while now and he’s finally caught me. I want him to catch me.
“How’d you find me?” I push the wet clumps of hair away from my face, my hands slipping off my skin.
He steps toward me, his coat sopping wet, raindrops sliding down his face and dripping off his chin. But he doesn’t drop his head, he doesn’t do anything other than stare straight to my soul, to all the fear that dwells there.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t come?”
I grin and his expression softens the slightest bit.
I hold my hands up and extend my arms. “Meet my Gran.”
He chuckles as he sinks to his knees in front of me. “She makes one hell of an impression.”
I nod in agreement.
“Just like her granddaughter,” he adds softly and my heart bursts.
“I missed you,” I admit, a lightness filling me up. Calm rolls through the emotional turmoil of moments ago, making me feel more secure and steady than I have in days.
“I love you,” he says back. His big hand wraps around mine, folding it into a fist and holding on tight. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“I want to be with you,” I admit, knowing it’s the truth on every level. “But if you’re going to be a dad, I need you to be the best one,” I blurt out.
His eyes crinkle as he smiles, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. Around us, the storm surges and softens, the sheets of rain petering out to a trickle as the clouds move east above our heads. “I’m not going to be a father. Yet.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, my heart racing as Luca tightens his hold.
“I mean the real baby daddy came forward.” He shifts closer, his face only inches from mine. “But one day, I want to have a whole hockey team of kids,” he explains, his lips grazing mine. “Preferably with you.” He kisses me, his mouth hot and demanding. The rain stops.
Thank you, Gran. I smile against his lips. “We’ll see, Luca.”
He chuckles, his hand cupping my cheek, his fingers brushing back my hair. “Hell yeah we will, Abbi.”
I grip his wrist, keeping his hand anchored to my cheek. “I love you, Luca.”
“I love you too, Abbi. And whatever this is”—he glances around the cemetery, before his eyes land on the skyline—“we’ll work it all out together.”
“Work what out?”
“Life,” he says simply, kissing me again. I grow dizzy from it but when he pulls away, it’s still too soon. “Come home with me?”
I nod. “My temporary suspension has been lifted. I’m back to work on Monday.”
“That’s great news, baby. But I didn’t mean Boston.”
My eyebrows lift, waiting.
“Philadelphia. Two weekends. My family is desperate to meet you. Claim you.” He stands, pulling me up beside him.
“Claim me?”
He wraps an arm around my waist. “As one of ours. The Pandatellis are nothing if not possessive.”
I giggle.
“And now that I’ve got you, Abbi”—he glances down at me, his face more serious than I’ve ever seen it—“there’s not a chance in hell I’m letting you go.”
I snuggle into his side. “We’ll see.”
He laughs and kisses the top of my head as we walk out of the cemetery. “This part is non-negotiable, love.”
I smile and turn around for one last glance at Gran’s tombstone. The sun is starting to shine again and the raindrops on the tombstone throw the light, glistening. Like a wink.
Take a leap of faith, Abigail.
So, I do.