Page 32 of Banter & Blushes #1

THE STORM INSIDE

LUCA

I ’d spent the entire day trying to distract myself. After that disastrous run-in with the flirtatious woman at the restaurant (which, by the way, I’m still cringing about), I needed something more important to focus on. Like stalking Rebecca and figuring out how to make things right.

I’ve probably been hanging around Joe too long.

So, when I saw her leaving the hotel that afternoon, my heart skipped a beat. There she was, stepping out into the rain like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was coming down in sheets, the kind of rain that made it impossible to stay dry no matter how hard you tried.

I watched her for a moment from the window of my café across the street. She didn’t have an umbrella. She wasn’t wearing a raincoat. She was just walking, her head down, looking like she was carrying the weight of the world.

And I was instantly worried.

Why was she walking in the rain? What was going on in her head? My stomach twisted, the instinct to go to her flaring up almost immediately.

I grabbed my jacket, leaving the restaurant in the hands of one of my staff, and stepped into the downpour, following her at a distance. I didn’t want to be obvious, but I couldn’t just let her wander out there alone, especially looking so… lost.

She walked slowly, her pace uneven, like she was deep in thought. She didn’t even seem to notice the rain soaking through her clothes, or the fact that it was a miserable day to be out walking. She was lost in herself, and it felt like I was the only one who could see it.

I crossed the street and followed her, staying just far enough back that she wouldn’t notice me right away. My heart beat harder in my chest as I watched her, wondering if she was thinking about us , or if she was just caught up in her own thoughts—thoughts I had no access to, no understanding of.

When she looked over her shoulder, I froze. But it was too late. She’d seen me.

For a moment, her eyes locked onto mine, and something passed between us—something heavy, full of unspoken words and emotions neither of us could seem to understand. And then, she did what I should’ve expected—she turned and ran.

I felt my chest tighten. My instincts kicked in. I wasn’t about to let her run away from me like this—not when I had no idea what was really going on with her.

I chased after her, my feet splashing through puddles as I tried to close the gap.

"Rebecca!" I called out, my voice cutting through the rain, but she didn’t slow down. She was running, her face turned away from me, like she didn’t want me to see the expression on it.

I couldn’t stand it. This wasn’t just some casual sprint—I could feel the urgency in the way she moved, like she was trying to outrun something deep inside her. It hit me like a punch in the gut.

"Rebecca, wait!" I shouted, my voice getting louder, but she didn’t even look back.

She turned a corner into an alley, and I followed her, my heart hammering. I was closer now, a few feet behind her, and I could see her shoulders shaking with every breath, her pace faltering just a little. It didn’t matter. I was there, right behind her, and I wasn’t going to let her slip away.

Finally, she came to a stop in front of a brick wall, turning to face me, her chest rising and falling rapidly with her shallow breaths. She was drenched, the rain pouring down her face, but it wasn’t the rain that made her eyes shine—it was something else.

Tears.

"Why are you running?" I asked, my voice softer now, trying to break through the barrier she’d put up. "What’s going on, Rebecca?"

She stepped back, shaking her head as if she were trying to fight off the emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

"You don’t understand," she said, her voice quiet but sharp with an edge of pain I couldn’t ignore.

I moved closer, desperate to get through to her. "I want to understand. Please, just talk to me. "

She pulled away, her hands shaking as she wiped her face, trying to hide the tears she was clearly struggling to hold back.

"I can’t do this. I just… I can’t. I don’t want to keep feeling like this.

" Her voice wavered, and she sucked in a breath, like she was trying to hold it all together. "I can’t be the one to ruin everything. It’s… it’s just too much."

My heart clenched at her words. Ruin? What was she talking about? "Rebecca, you’re not going to ruin anything. What’s going on in your head? Please, talk to me."

She turned away, her face turned toward the wall as she whispered, "I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know how to do this with you. I don’t know how to be what you need."

My pulse spiked as I realized what she was saying. "You think you’re not what I need?"

She laughed bitterly, but there was no joy in it—just raw, unfiltered hurt.

"You’re young, Luca. You’re so much younger than me.

I don’t have time to play games. I’m not sure I even have the energy for this.

I’ve already been through one marriage that failed, and I don’t think I can do it again. Not with you."

A jolt of pain ran through me, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Is that what she thought? Did she actually imagine a life with me?

"Rebecca, please." I was standing so close to her now I could feel the heat of her body, the tension in her shoulders. My hands were shaking with the need to touch her, to comfort her, but I was nervous of saying the wrong thing. "I don’t care about the age difference. I don’t care about anything except you. I’ve never felt this way before, Rebecca.

You make me feel like I could do anything, be anything.

And I know it’s not perfect, but I want this with you. I don’t want to let you go."

She shook her head again, her voice breaking. "I can’t just fall into something because it feels good in the moment. I can’t keep pretending like I’m not a mess. I can’t keep pretending like I’m not scared."

I took another step forward, my voice low, desperate, "You don’t have to be perfect, Rebecca. I’m not asking you to be. I’m just asking you to trust me."

She turned her face toward me, her eyes filled with confusion, sadness, and something else I couldn’t place. And then, before either of us could say anything more, I did the only thing I could think to do.

I pulled her into my arms.

I didn’t think. I didn’t care if she was angry or if she pulled away. I just wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close and holding her tightly as I felt her shoulders tremble against me.

"Just let me hold you," I whispered into her hair. "Just for a minute. Please. I got you."

I could feel her try to pull back, but I wouldn’t let her go. I wasn’t letting her slip through my fingers again.

She cried then—soft, quiet sobs against my chest—and I just let her. I didn’t try to fix it, didn’t try to make her stop. I just held her, feeling the storm inside her, and hoped she would let me help her weather it.

It was messy. It was painful. I didn’t care if it was perfect. I just wanted to be there for her.

And for once, I wasn’t thinking about what would happen next.

I was just holding on… for the both of us.