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luca

I ’ve been pacing for the past five minutes.

Back and forth between the living room and the front door, heart racing like I’m about to take a penalty shot in overtime. My shirt’s clinging to my back, still a little damp from the fastest shower of my life, the knot of post-game energy hasn’t unraveled yet.

Not even close.

Nugget watches me from the couch as her footsteps hit the front step.

My hand is already on the knob.

I swing the door open before Nova’s finger presses the doorbell.

Hair messy from the wind, her lips part in surprise at the sight of me, wide and glittering as if she didn’t expect me to look quite so unhinged when I opened the door.

“Were you watching out the window for me?”

Close. “Pretty much.”

Her eyes flick over me—barefoot, freshly showered, clearly vibrating with leftover adrenaline—grinning as her eyes sweep over my coc?—

WHUMP .

The fucking dog launches himself off the couch like a furry cannonball, tail going full helicopter. Nugget skids across the hardwood floor, claws scrambling for traction as he barrels toward the new visitor like he’s been waiting his whole life for Nova to arrive.

She gasps and bursts out laughing just as the furball collides with her knees.

“Whoa!” Her voice goes full-on baby mode. “Who’s a handsome boy! Are you a handsome boy?”

“Uh. He’s excited.” I step back as Nugget folds himself into her legs, tongue out, whining dramatically so she won’t take her eyes off him.

Damn dog.

He’s a bigger attention whore than I am .

“Excited?” she says, crouching so she can kiss him on the face. “This dog is acting like I’m his soulmate.”

I frown, cause she hasn’t kissed me yet. “You might be.”

Nova scratches behind his ears and Nugget melts, eyes sliding closed as her nails relieve his itch. In slow motion the dog lets his entire body melt into the ground like a pool of caramel, back legs out, belly exposed—total submission.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” I tell him, enviously.

Nova grins without looking up. “Awww, but he’s such a good, handsome boy…!”

Nugget thumps his tail in agreement, sprawled out like he owns the place. Honestly? He kind of does.

“Come on, dude,” I groan. “You’ve known her five minutes and you ditch me?” I snap my fingers. “Just like that, huh?”

Nova finally stands, brushing golden fur off her legs with a laugh. “Five minutes with Nugget and I feel spiritually healed.”

“Didn’t realize I had competition.”

She scoffs. “You didn’t until you opened the door.”

She walks past me, smirking, and Nugget leaps up, trotting after her like a furry bodyguard.

“Come on in,” I grumble .

I watch them move through the living room, like they’ve already claimed it together. She glances over her shoulder and catches me staring.

“So, this is your place, yeah?” she asks, smile crooked.

“It is.” I gesture toward the kitchen, motioning for her to follow me so I can offer her something to drink and make us a snack.

“How long have you lived here?”

“Since my rookie year. Bought it with my first check.”

She whistles low, eyes roaming over the open-concept kitchen, the tall ceilings, and the wall of windows facing out to the back deck. It wraps around the entire backyard, stretching beyond that.

It’s mostly dark, but if you look hard enough, you’ll be able to make out the glimmer of the pool hiding behind the privacy fence. Her eyes drift upward, taking in the high vaulted ceilings and exposed beams, then to the sunken living room a few steps down—oversized couch, leather chairs, soft lighting. Three random snuggle blankets that weren’t picked out by a designer and see regular use.

It’s comfortable.

A total bachelor pad.

“It’s beautiful, Luca.”

“Thanks.” I rub the back of my neck, hyper-aware of every pair of dirty underwear that might be on my bathroom floor because I wasn’t expecting company—or the water glasses I leave on my nightstand. “Don’t tell my mom, but I burn non-soy candles a lot.”

Nova laughs, sliding onto a counter stool as I open the fridge and start pulling things out. “This feels so domestic.”

The dog whines.

“I could get used to this.” Her sigh is content. “You making me snacks, the dog worshiping me…”

“Yeah?” I throw her a look as I start tearing open a pack of prosciutto. “How used to it are we talking? ”

She leans against the counter and tilts her head, mock thinking. “Depends.”

“On?”

“How good the snacks are.”

I snort. “So shallow.”

“You knew this about me when you let me in.”

“Fair.”

I stack cheese, fruit, roasted nuts—and whatever I can find that doesn’t require cooking, onto the board. She watches with open amusement.

“This feels so fancy,” Nova muses. “Wish I’d packed an overnight bag.”

“No bag needed. I have plenty of T-shirts.” And spare toothbrushes, cause every time I go to Costco, I stock up on that sort of shit.

“Where are your roommates?” she asks, petting the dog.

“Out,” I say, grabbing a second bottle of water and handing it to her. “For now. But I don’t totally trust that one of them won’t bust in on us. They have boundaries most of the time, but if they realize I have company, they might be too excited to mind their business.”

Nova hesitates. “What about Skaggs?”

“What about him?”

“Can we trust him to keep our secret?”

This fucking secret .

This sneaking around…

I hate it more than I let on. I hate not being able to touch her in public, not being able to look at her the way I want to—like she’s mine—even when my teammates are two feet away and none the wiser. I hate acting like she’s just Gio’s sister when she’s the thing keeping me up at night and making me stupid on the ice.

I exhale, slow. “Skaggs is a lot of things. Loud, nosy, always taking the last protein bar.”

She waits, eyes steady .

“But he’s loyal,” I say. “If I tell him this is serious—and that it stays between us—he won’t say shit.”

Her shoulders relax a little. “Okay. Good. That’s... good. ”

“You worried?”

She shrugs, petting Nugget with one hand, toying with the edge of her water bottle with the other. “I just keep thinking about Gio finding out. How weird that would be. How?—”

“Nova.”

She looks up.

“We’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I know.”

She’s lying. She totally thinks this is wrong.

I don’t call her out on it. Don’t push.

I nod like I believe her and go back to slicing a block of cheddar cheese, to occupy my hands and keep my head clear, pushing the idea that she somehow disapproves of me—and continue fussing with our board of snacks.

I ignore the fact that I’m bothered by her being bothered.

Does that make sense?

“Cheese okay?” I ask, not looking at her.

“Love cheese,” she says softly. “Thanks.”

I hum in response, still not meeting her eyes.

Nugget stretches with a loud, dramatic groan at her feet, rolling over to nudge his nose against her ankle, wanting more pets. Needy fucker is better at this than I am…

I glance up and catch her watching me.

Like— really watching me.

She knows exactly why I’m being avoidant, but so is she, which makes us even.

“You went quiet,” she says.

“I’m not quiet.” I’m focused. Pick up the board and nod toward the back staircase that leads up to the second floor. “Want to grab a bottle of wine and two glasses?”

She does want, standing and going to the wine rack. Grabs a bottle of red, two glasses, and follows me to the stairs .

“Nugget, stay.”

He whines, rejected, wagging his tail toward Nova—his one saving grace.

“Sorry buddy. We want privacy.”

We move down the hallway, past several closed doors—Cash’s room, then Skaggs’s. My room is at the far end, the weird little ‘if the bed is rocking, don’t come knocking’ bumper sticker Skaggs bought at Buc-ee’s as a joke.

Nova sticks her head inside, cautiously nudging the door open. “You have the primary?”

“Sure do.” As the owner of the house, obviously the primary is mine.

“You make your bed!” she says, impressed.

“Every morning.” I move into the room beside her. “I read somewhere that making your bed first thing sets the tone for the rest of your day.”

Nova steps fully inside, her eyes sweeping the room. “Look at you, Mr. Structure and Routine.”

“It’s called emotional regulation?”

She grins and toes off her shoes near the doorway. “Pretty sure I’ve seen that on Therapy Tok.”

Walking to the sitting area, I set the grazing board on the small coffee table and turn to watch her walking around my space. It’s lived-in but clean.

My white comforter is crisp, tucked tight as if I’d spent some time in the military.

A large-scale abstract canvas hangs above the headboard—a white and cream abstract that has no sentimental value and is only there to fill the void. My shelves are lined with framed photographs of family, friends, and teammates. Several pucks from hockey legends. A framed jersey from my college team. Candles. Books I mostly pretend I’ve read.

She stops at one of the framed pictures on my dresser.

“High school playoffs,” I say, leaning over to see it. “I split my lip during that game. See the scar? ”

I point to my mouth as she leans closer to the picture, squinting at the younger, beardless version of me standing next to Rhett Anderson, both of us sweaty and cocky and vibrating with youth. My lip is split, blood crusted at the edge of my smile, and my left eye was already starting to swell shut.

“Jesus,” she says. “You look twelve.”

“Seventeen,” I correct. “Tough as hell.”

Obviously.

She grins, brushing her fingers over one of the candles on the shelf. “Do you actually light these or are they just props?”

“For sure. Otherwise the entire house smells like fart and dirty socks.”

Cash is a great guy, but when he’s home, the air quality drops at least three points. He also doesn’t believe in closing the bathroom door. And Skaggs leaves protein shakers in his gym bag until they ferment, which is fucking disgusting.

“It’s a miracle I’m still alive,” I lament as she continues perusing my things.

Nova laughs, delighted, brushing her fingers over the spines of a few books before glancing back toward the bed. “I kind of love that your bedroom is your safe zone.”

I shrug. “I have an office too, but never use it.”

She hums.

“Should we go sit and eat? I’m starving.”

Nova takes my hand and follows me to the two oversized chairs I have angled toward the window; a soft throw blanket tossed over the arm of one, the low round table between them is where I’ve already set the grazing board.

The windows overlook the backyard, soft pinpoints of light from the neighbor’s porch twinkling in the near distance.

She curls into the chair like she was designed to fit there. Legs tucked beneath her, shoulders relaxed, wine glass in hand as I pour. I sit opposite her, my own glass within reach, watching the way she sinks into the quiet .

“This was such a good idea,” she says after a few silent moments. “It’s so peaceful.”

It’s not always, but I allow her to live in the illusion. “Glad you think so.” Give the grazing board a little scoot in her direction. “Try the prosciutto—it’s delicious.”

She grins and reaches for the meat. “What kind of guy builds cheese boards?”

Hungry guys. “The kind who’s trying to earn bonus points.”

“I assumed when I got here that I’d be walking into a house full of crushed beer cans and piles of disgusting, dirty laundry.”

I shake my head. “Nope. We have a cleaning lady who comes twice a week and she puts up with none of that nonsense.”

We munch on nuts, cheese, and sugar snap peas for several minutes, the only sound is our chewing and swallowing and the occasional sip of wine.

Nova lets out an ahh after a satisfying gulp of red.

“Tell me something dumb,” she says suddenly. “That you’ve done.”

I blink. “Eh?”

“Something dumb. Light. You know. To keep the spiral at bay.”

“Okay.” I think for half a second. “I believed until age nine that the moon followed me specifically.”

She chokes on her wine, laughing into the glass. “Stop it right now.”

“Dead serious. I was that stupid.”

She shakes her head to disagree. “No, pretty sure that’s normal.” Nova hesitates. “Growing up there was a bright star I could see out my window on clear nights. And I would pray on that star, but instead of praying to God—I prayed to Justin Bieber.”

Of course she did.

“ Dear Justin ,” Nova begins. “ My mom said I couldn’t get bangs. Please tell her to change her mind .” She giggles. “ Dear Justin, please please please let Will Parker ask me to the fall formal or at least notice I exist. ”

I laugh. “Did he answer?”

“She did indeed let me get bangs,” she admits with a nod. “They were tragic—but not the point.”

“I’m sorry. This information changes everything.”

Nova lifts her head, cheeks pink. “What information?”

“I can’t un-know the fact your childhood religion was a Canadian pop star.”

“Pfft. He had swag, okay?” she says defensively, wagging her wine glass at me. “And he was listening. ”

I raise my glass to propose a toast. “To the Church of Bieber and misguided childhood choices!”

We take a long sip in unison, the wine warm and heavy now. I feel it in my shoulders, my fingers. Everything loosening, softening.

Nova sighs. “I think this wine is going to my head.”

“I think this night is going to mine.”

She smiles, lazy and loose, the kind that makes me want to kiss it right off her face. Instead, I reach for the last of the sugared pecans and toss one at her.

It hits her hoodie and rolls into her lap.

“ Excuse you,” she says, affronted.

“I panicked,” I say. “Too much cuteness. Had to defuse it.”

She picks up the pecan, considers throwing it back, then pops it in her mouth instead. “I’m letting that slide because I’m buzzed and want to crawl all over you.”

Oh—this is great news.

Even better, because she sets her empty wine glass on the table and stands, climbing into my lap like we’ve snuggled a hundred times. Second nature. Like I’m her favorite chair.

Her legs hanging off one side of her, Nova loops her arms around my neck, and I get an up-close-and-personal look at her dilated pupils; the freckles across the bridge of her nose, flushed cheeks, and a dazed smile .

Goddamn she’s beautiful.

She kisses the side of my jaw, inhaling deeply. “You smell so good.”

“Thanks. I showered.”