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luca

T he bubbles are so high I can’t even ogle her tits .

Damn shame, cause I really love looking at them. Big. Perky. Pretty pink nipples a man could get lost in, they make my mouth water—and now they’re submerged beneath the water.

Her toe appears, bright red polish winking at me. Nova taps it against my chest as if she lost my attention and wants it back.

Newsflash: she never lost it and probably never will.

I take it in my hands and press my fingers into the pads of her foot, rubbing it until she tips her head back and leans it against the back of the tub with a moan.

“Damn that feels amazing.”

“So did you.” I press a kiss to the inside of her ankle, just because it’s there.

Nova and her orgasms light me on fire.

Sitting across from me, she is flushed cheeks and wet lashes and wild hair; it tries to escape the knot on top of her head, loosely piled there.

Sexy as hell.

She stretches her legs out a little more, letting me keep hold of her foot. Her eyes are closed, the softest smile on her lips like she’s floating somewhere between reality and that quiet bliss that only comes after being thoroughly wrecked—in the best way.

“So,” I say casually, letting the water slosh between us. “Am I allowed to ask about the last guy who was lucky enough to get you naked in a tub?”

Translation: tell me about your douchebag of an ex-boyfriend.

She snorts, reaching for the wine glass perched on the edge of the tub. “That’s how you’re phrasing it?”

I shrug.

She gets what I meant so there’s no sense in rewording it, her toes wiggling above the bubbles as she considers how much information to give me.

Nova hesitates.

Then,

“It’s not easy being Gio Montagalo’s sister in a hockey town.”

Her voice is quiet, the rim of the wine glass brushing her lips as she stares across the bubbly water at me. Her toes have stopped wiggling.

Gone is her teasing.

I stay quiet.

Give her space to think about what she wants to tell me.

She takes another sip of wine before resting the glass on the edge of the tub again.

Nova gives me a wane smile.

“People—men wanted to date me to get access to Gio, and women wanted to be my friend with the hopes of fucking him.” She nibbles her bottom lip. “In high school it wasn’t as bad---once we got to college, it was awful. I hated the feeling that I was being used. He was the golden child who got all the attention and sometimes, I felt like I was getting the leftovers.”

Nova tips her head back. “God, I sound like I’m whining.” Pause. “I love my brother, but it wasn’t easy being in his shadow. ”

I don’t say anything. Because this right there? None of this is about her exes. This is about her .

“So anyway, my last boyfriend—if you want to call him that—fell into that category,” she trails off, sighing. “He was one of those guys who pretended he loved an independent woman who isn’t afraid to say what’s on her mind. Said he could handle all the noise that came with being with me—sports media and stuff because for a long time, I went with Gio everywhere.”

I knew that about her.

Back when Gio was a rookie, Nova was his right-hand.

His support.

Yeah, he’d dated some social media influencers and the occasional model, but none of them proved steadfast. You can’t replace the loyalty and trust of a close family member in this business.

“…Turns out he hated how independent I was. Hated that Gio bought my apartment. Loved the free rink-side seats, of course, but hated that he couldn’t control me.” A chuckle leaves her throat. “It was a volatile three months that felt like years.”

The words hang there between us, and I can see the weight of them in her shoulders.

But she doesn’t have to carry it alone anymore.

Not with me.

“You tell any of this to Gio?”

She laughs. “God, no. Are you kidding? He already thinks no one’s good enough for me. He would have lost his shit.”

“So? He should have. Whoever that dude is, he sounds like a prick.”

Nova shifts beneath the water. “He was exhausting. I don’t know why I tried so hard to make it work. I let him treat me like that,” she says, voice quieter now. “That’s the part I hate the most. I made myself smaller. I kept giving him chances, and for what?”

“You ever think maybe you were too much for him because he was never enough for you? ”

Her throat works as she swallows. “Yes,” she whispers. “But it still messes with your head.” The water moves. “Tell me about your last girlfriend.”

My last girlfriend.

Ugh. “Do I have to?”

“Of course not.”

Nova says it gently, but her gaze doesn’t drop. She’s not trying to pry. She’s just giving me the same space I gave her.

Which means I have to tell her. Not because she’s pushing—but because I want her to know.

I sigh, dragging a hand through the water. “My last girlfriend... man. She was a lot of things. Gorgeous. Smart. Charming in that way that makes you believe you’re lucky just to be in the same room with her.”

“Ew,” she jokes, shoving a small splash in my direction.

I grin, flicking some bubbles back at her. “Hey, I said was. Past tense. You don’t have to throw down.”

Honestly though, I love that she’s a tad jealous. It warms me on the inside.

“She had this way,” I continue, “of making everyone feel like they were the center of her world. Like the room lit up when she looked at you. You’d think she was sunshine.”

“But?” Nova prompts, tilting her head.

I lean back, letting the water settle around my shoulders. “But it wasn’t real. At least not for me. She was really good at appearances. Great at telling people what they wanted to hear. And I didn’t notice how much of myself I was giving away until I was empty.”

“Did she ever say she loved you?”

I nod once. “Yeah. A lot.” Loved bombed the shit out of me.

“Did you believe her?”

“For a while,” I admit. “Until I realized she loved what I did for her more than who I actually was.”

Nova’s voice is gentle now, stripped of humor. “That’s a shitty thing to realize. ”

“I guess,” I murmur. “But it’s also freeing. I don’t know. It made me pay more attention to the real stuff. The quiet things. The way someone looks at you when they don’t think you’re watching. Or how they hold space for you. The little things.”

“That sounds so nice.” What’s that like? Her unasked question lingers in the air.

The water has cooled enough now that we both feel it. Goosebumps rise along her arms. The bubbles have shrunk to foam, so I reach forward and twist the faucet, letting more hot water flow into the tub to warm us both back up. The sudden stream breaks the silence, but not the moment—we’re still wrapped in it.

“You know what else?” I say quietly, not looking at her yet. “Real love doesn’t come with a checklist.”

She tilts her head slightly.

“It’s not earned by being low-maintenance or sweet or perfect,” I continue. “It’s not a prize you get for being easy to be around. You don’t have to shrink for me, Nova. You don’t have to be anything less than exactly what you are.”

That was not a declaration, but it sure as hell felt like one.

Could be construed as one, too.

That does not bother me.

Let her think what she wants.

She gives me a soft, incredulous look. “You say that now.”

“I’ll keep saying it,” I promise.

Nova worries her bottom lip again. “What’s something you’re scared of? Cause you seem pretty…brave.”

Me? Brave?

Ha!

I’m scared shitless about plenty of things: snakes. Heights. Spiders that live in Australia. Floods.

Still, I know she’s not being literal. She wants to know what unseen things I’m afraid of.

“I’ve always felt like people were waiting for me to screw up,” I continue. “Coaches. Girlfriends. Like, sure—you’re fun now—but eventually someone’s gonna figure out you’re not that special. You’re no better than the next guy.”

She frowns. “Luca…”

“It’s not about being insecure. It’s just—” I pause, searching for the right way to put my thoughts into words. “When people have an idea of who you are, you start performing. And there gets to be a point you don’t realize it until you’re exhausted, and no one knows the real you because you’ve never let them see that version.”

Nova swallows hard. “Sure. I’ve done that. Smiled when I wanted to scream. Said I was fine, but I was dying on the inside.”

“Maybe we’re both tired of pretending.”

She nods, eyes glassy now. “I was starting to forget what it felt like to be honest.”

Same.

I still have her foot in my hand and resume massaging the ball of her foot. “Do you want kids?”

There.

I said it.

Nova blinks, startled—not because it’s a bad question, but because it came out of nowhere. One second we’re talking about emotional and invisible pain…the next, I’m asking about future children she may or may not want to exist.

“I like the idea of family. Of warmth. Of being someone’s safe place. But kids?” She shrugs. “I do—and then I don’t. What if… What if something terrible happens to me and I suddenly abandon them, the way my parents did when they died?”

She says the words with trembling fear. Brutal honesty. Vulnerably and the quiet panic of someone who’s carried that question in the back of her mind for a long time and never had a place to put it.

She won’t meet my eyes. “My parents dying was the worst thing that ever happened to me, but it didn’t make them bad people. It didn’t make them wrong for having kids. They were incredible.” Her voice cracks with emotion. “They gave us love and safety and memories I will always carry with me. I would take one more day with them over a lifetime with anyone else.”

Nova’s lashes flutter, dampening.

“I’m sorry.”

I didn’t mean to…

I swallow back regret, having asked, watching as she sinks deeper into the water until just her eyes peek over the surface, like she’s retreating into her own private cave of embarrassment.

She comes back up.

“Don’t be sorry you asked. I love my parents. I…” she pauses. “I do want to be a mom.” She clears the lump out of her throat. “I think I always have. Even when I said I didn’t. Even when I tried to convince myself that I wouldn’t be any good at it.”

“I think you’d be incredible.”

She huffs, a little laugh pulled from somewhere uncertain. “You don’t know that.”

“I do know,” I say quietly. “I know you’d love hard and protect fiercely. You’d give some tiny person the same kind of safe place you never stop trying to give yourself.”

“I’ve never said that out loud before,” she admits.

“Then I’m glad I asked.”

The silence that follows isn’t heavy anymore.

“What about you?” she finally asks. “Do you want kids?”

I nod. “Yes.”

Like, five of them.

I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to scare the shit out of her. I’ve always wanted a family.

I love holidays and Christmas and have always wanted a back screen door that slams too loudly because someone is coming in from the backyard…running in to grab a popsicle. I want to scold and say shit like, “ We’re not feeding the whole damn neighborhood! ” and complain about every single light being on.

“I’ve always wanted to be a dad,” I say modestly.

“God,” she breathes. “You’re one of the good ones. ”

“You think so?”

“I never told anyone that before,” I admit. “Not even my closest friends. I don’t know, it always felt... embarrassing.”

Nova’s eyebrows knit. “Why?”

“Because guys don’t always talk about this stuff. Wanting kids, and domestic things. You start feeling like you’re soft, or desperate, or worse—delusional.”

She rolls her eyes. “Guys are such idiots sometimes. Honest to God, why is being vulnerable such a bad thing.” She snorts. “Like—get over yourselves.”

I laugh. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“I just did.” She leans forward and picks up the wine glass. “Seriously though, the bar was on the floor. A guy says he wants a family and suddenly I’m like, yas, king—take me to Target and let’s pick out throw pillows and a minivan. ”

I bark out a laugh. “Oh, we’re a minivan family now?”

“Only if it has sliding doors and cupholders for everyone.”

I tilt my head. “How many cupholders do you think a normal car has?”

She blinks. “I don’t know—like, nine?”

“Nine?” What the hell!

Nova taps on her wine glass with her nails. “Okay. Your turn.”

“For what?”

“To answer something important.”

I lift a brow. “Define important.”

She leans in slightly, lips tugging into a mischievous grin. “If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

I blink. “ That’s your important question?”

Lame!

“Dead serious.” She nods her head. “Choose wisely.”

I laugh. “Easy. Breakfast sandwich—boom! Bacon, egg, cheese, toasted sourdough. Hot sauce if I’m feeling reckless.”

Nova approves. “Solid choice. ”

“Thanks. What about you?”

She pretends to ponder as if she hadn’t already prepared her answer. “Pasta. But only if I don’t have to make it myself. And garlic bread.”

Her answer surprises me.

“You’re gonna be the mom who always makes butter noodles.”

Her brow raises. “You got a problem with butter noodles?”

I raise my pruned hands out of the water. “No! I’m just sayin’…”

She shrugs one shoulder. “What can I say? I contain multitudes. I’m emotionally complex and capable of eating the same meal five days in a row.”

I sigh blissfully and bat my eyelashes at her. “Dream girl behavior.”

Nova yawns.

“Should we get out? Get jammies on. Snuggle?”

She gazes at me as if she’s hit the jackpot. “Please.”