The Heart Chaser by Gina Azzi
Abbi
Iglare at Luca, my anger rushing forth like a tsunami. “How dare you crash my date with Aiden? Why were you at Carter’s? Why are you doing this to me?” I turn away from him and stride into my living room, both wanting him to leave and to follow me inside.
Jesus, what is wrong with me? Why can’t I slam the door in his face?
Hurt blares to the forefront of my mind but desire pools low in my stomach and I hate my stupid body for reacting to Luca when my head, no my heart, knows better than to trust whatever the hell comes out of his mouth.
“Is he here?” Luca shuts the door behind me and I feel his presence enter my space, overwhelming it as easily as he overwhelms me. “Did he hurt you?”
I spin around, disbelief causing my mouth to drop open. “Why would you even think that?”
Luca’s eyes are narrowed, his teeth clenched. “You’re crying.” His words are soft, at odds with the ferocity in his expression.
I cover my face with my hand, trying to calm down with a breathing exercise my therapist recommended after my mom passed. I’ve spent the better part of my life in therapy and still, I’m a hurricane of emotions, too much hurt and not enough logic.
Luca steps closer and his hands tentatively settle on my shoulders. “Abbi,” his voice is pained and it makes me squeeze my eyes closed.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I groan out, too upset to care at how obvious I’m being. I hate him, I remind myself.
My inner self cracks up, slapping her knee. Yeah, right.
“Doing what?” he asks, surprised.
Gently, he pulls my hand away from my face. The concern in his eyes obliterates the wall I’ve been wrapping around my heart since the last time he rejected me.
“You never called,” I accuse him.
Shame fills the lines of his face and he dips his head in acknowledgement.
“I thought that weekend…” I trail off.
“Abbi…” His voice is tortured. But what does it mean? “That weekend…” His voice cracks and he closes his eyes.
I stand perfectly still, waiting, as hope swirls in a flurry around me.
“What happened with Phil?” he murmurs.
I let out the most unattractive sound I’ve heard and turn away. “Phil turned out to be a disaster. Maybe the biggest mistake I’ve made in a long line of fuckups.”
“What happened?” He’s close behind me, trailing me into the kitchen.
I reach into my fridge and pull out a couple of White Claws. I offer him one and he accepts it wordlessly, popping the tab and taking a swig.
I sigh. “Did you know my gran passed?”
His eyes flash, his Adam’s apple bobbing once. “No.” The word scrapes at the air between us, thick and clumsy.
“Well, it’s just me now.” I hold my arms out to the side before letting them fall. “I can’t keep doing this, Luca.”
“Doing what?”
“Setting myself up for disappointment.”
His brow furrows and he shuffles closer.
“I believed you. I trusted you. I thought that weekend meant something and when you didn’t call…it hurt, okay? It hurt more than it should have and it hurt more than I wanted to admit.”
“Fuck, Abbi. I’m so fucking sorry.” His words are laced with regret. “That weekend meant something. It was everything.”
Shock rolls through me as I narrow my eyes. Is he serious? At the sincerity in his tone and the ferocity in his expression, I shake my head. My hand wraps around the base of my throat as I whisper, “Then why didn’t you call?”
He moves closer. “Right after you left, my sister called. My pop had a heart attack—”
“Shit,” I swear, feeling like it.
“No, no he’s okay.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Luca nods. “But the rest of the summer was a whirlwind. I spent most of it in Philly. My family…they’re my life, Abbi. When they need me, I show up and kind of forget about everything else. By the time I got back to Boston and the dust settled, it was too late to call. I figured you’ve moved on with your life and that weekend was sort of this fun reminder of summer. Besides, I told you not to settle and that’s exactly what you’d be doing with me. My family needs me now, more than ever before, and I’m never around. Every chance I get, I’m flying down to Philly.”
I nod slowly, his words making sense even if they’re painful to hear. But his dad had a heart attack… I wrack my mind, vaguely recalling Chloe bringing Luca up but me shutting her down. At the time, I was in the thick of things with Phil and losing my job. The mention of Luca was another piece of poop in a raging shitstorm.
“Do you like Aiden?” he asks.
I nod. I bet every person Aiden’s ever met likes him. He’s a likable guy; definitely in the friend zone, but still, likable.
“Are you going to go out with him again?”
I stare at Luca for a long time, wishing I could rewind to July. Would I have been more honest with him then? Would it have mattered?
“Why did you show up at Carter’s with that blonde girl?” I ask instead of responding. The truth is, Aiden and I had a great time. And we both knew about three minutes into our date that there wasn’t any chemistry between us. In a weird way, it was this big relief. We laughed really hard, agreed to be friends, and had an animated conversation and a great meal. Aiden moved to the city about a year ago and promised to introduce me to new friends of his and even mentioned setting me up if I’m really on the hunt.
Apparently, things with one of his colleagues is a complicated mess and I can relate because…exhibit A.
“Because I was jealous. And I wanted to make you jealous,” Luca says honestly, dipping his head so his eyes can hold mine. “Carmen is my college teammate’s kid sister. She’s pretty much become my kid sister since she started at Boston College a few years ago. And to be honest with you, she’s less than impressed with me right now and thinks I need to man up and talk to you.”
I snort, my jealousy over the young, beautiful blonde easing. “Smart girl.”
“Were you?” Luca asks.
I frown. “Jealous?”
He nods.
I roll my eyes and swat at him. “What do you think?”
He smirks and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. I let him, sinking into his embrace. And God, does it feel good. His arms around me cause a ripple of goosebumps to dance over my skin, a thrill to flare through my limbs, and desire to pool in my stomach. My body, traitor that it is, remembers every sensation he pulled from it more than six months ago and it wants it again.
I want him again. I shake my head. “We work together.”
“Not really.”
“I don’t trust you,” I revise.
“I know.” His response is quiet but he doesn’t drop his hold. “Are you going out with him again?”
I widen my eyes, annoyed and excited. I need to get my head examined. This is why I end up in these situations. I’m too rash. Too much wanting and not enough thinking.
“We’re friends.”
“You looked like more than that.”
“You looked like you were on a date with a college sorority girl,” I point out.
Luca wrinkles his nose as if the thought offends him. “Well, I wasn’t. I don’t know what the hell I was trying to do except see you. And right now, I’m here, Abbi.” His hand presses in the center of my back.
I shrug. I should shake off his touch. But I can’t.
“Luca, I can’t handle any more hurt. I’ve had a lifetime of it and I’m…I’m tired.”
“Me too,” he murmurs back, his hand cupping my cheek. He angles my head and looks me over like he’s committing me to memory—every eyelash, the curve of my lips, the slope of my nose. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Abbi Walsh. But one of the biggest was hurting you.”
I glance at his mouth, his lips moving to speak the words I waited months to hear. Is it too late? Can I give him another chance?
What the hell happened to professional, polite, and detached?
Luca’s hand slips higher on my back.
I look up, feeling my eyes widen at the naked desire in his expression.
Is that all this is? Desire? Want? Messy feelings and complicated motives? How can I trust his truth when last time, he didn’t follow through?
His mouth arcs closer to mine.
“Wait.” My palm presses into his chest and he freezes. “What’s changed?”
“What?”
“What’s different now? You admitted you’re here because you’re jealous.”
“So?” he growls.
“So, if you didn’t see me out with Aiden, would you have knocked on my door?”
Luca sighs and stares at me. I lift an eyebrow, waiting. The longer he hesitates, the faster my stomach falls.
His phone rings and he swears, turning away from me and pulling it from his pocket.
“Hey,” he answers.
The temperature between us, skyrocketing moments ago, turns glacial. Bitterness climbs up my throat like ivy, snaking around my wagging tongue, making it immobile.
“Valentina?” he murmurs and my heart aches. “When?”
Oh, God, how stupid can a person feel?
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Of course, I will. Yeah. ‘Bye.” He slips his phone back into his pocket.
When he turns, his expression falls at whatever he reads on my face. “Abbi, that was—”
“You need to go,” I cut him off, not wanting to hear any more bullshit.
His forehead crinkles and his eyes harden. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“Me?” I jab my finger into my chest and wince. “Why don’t you ask yourself that question, Panda?”
He shakes his head, scoffing. “Wow. We’re back to that again? Abbi, I thought we were moving forward.”
“Funny.” I blow past him, yanking open my apartment door. “I thought so too. Thanks for reminding me why this is such a bad idea.”
I don’t make eye contact as he stalks past me. Once he clears the space, I slam the door behind him.
Then, I walk back into my bedroom, throw myself down on my bed, and scream into my pillow. Tears tumble down my cheeks as I sob, desperately missing my gran and the advice she would surely share if she was here. When I’ve calmed down a bit, I pull out the last letter she wrote me. God, I wish she was here. I wish I could feel close to her again.
Her handwriting makes me smile. Her letter is replete with wisdom and advice. It’s written with humor and love. It’s the last thing I have from the woman who raised me.
When I fold it up and tuck it back into my nightstand drawer, all I’m left with is overwhelming sadness. For a woman who seems to have it all together, I sure as hell have nothing worth holding on to.