Page 57 of Forgive Me Father

Tucking my phone back in my pocket, I stare at the water. "Of course," I smile, tearing off my clothes. I grab Luca’s hand, and take off towards the water.

An hour later, drenched to the bone, we trudge back to our cars. Luca’s hoodie is a comforting weight as I cling to his back, hishands brushing over my scarred skin with a casual intimacy that sends shivers down my spine.

Zoey is nearly out cold in Aiden’s arms, her head lolling as he struggles to keep her upright.

"I’ll drive Zoey home and bring her back for her car in the morning," Aiden says, adjusting her limp form.

"I’ll take Eden," Luca offers, his smile warm. "And I’ll help you with Zoey’s car tomorrow if that’s cool with you, Eden."

Aiden looks to me, waiting for my approval. I give a small nod, forcing a smile.

After we get Zoey settled into my car, I cross my arms and wait by Luca’s truck, feeling the weight of a gaze on my back.

"So, who were you really on the phone with?" Zack’s voice cuts through the night, low and unsettling.

"What do you mean?" I ask, turning to face him.

He leans against Luca’s truck, his nod slow and deliberate, eyes fixed on mine with an intensity that makes my skin crawl.

"Your dad’s out getting drinks with mine tonight. There’s no way in hell he called you. So, who were you talking to that had you so flustered?" Zack asks, stepping closer, his voice dripping with suspicion.

"What are you insinuating, Zack?" I snap, narrowing my eyes at the arrogant bastard.

"Is there a problem?" Luca’s voice cuts in, calm but firm, as he steps between us, his body shielding me from Zack, arms crossed in silent warning.

"No problem," Zack says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Have a good night." Zack saunters away, casually twirling his keys on his finger.

"You okay?" Luca asks, concern flickering in his eyes. Roman’s angry voice from the call earlier still echoes in my mind, leaving me unsettled.

"Yeah," I smile, glancing at his truck. "Ready to go?"

He nods and opens the door, watching me as I slide into the passenger seat. As I look around, the inside of Luca’s truck feels lived-in, far from the cold, immaculate interior of Roman’s 4Runner. Sports gear is piled haphazardly on the floor, and scattered papers are shoved into the corners, a chaotic mix of school assignments and workout routines. The faint scent of sweat and cologne lingers in the air, mingling with the earthy smell of wet grass from our swim. It’s messy, unpretentious, and entirely Luca.

He glances over at me, a smirk playing on his lips as he gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Feeling any better?" He asks, his voice soft. My buzz has dulled, leaving me more clear-headed.

"If you’re asking if I remember and whether I regret the kiss, yes, I remember," I whisper, leaning closer, closing the distance over the armrest. "And no, I don’t regret it."

Luca’s eyes drop to my lips, and he closes his eyes, letting out a groan of surrender.

"You’re making it really hard to remember that you’ve been drinking," He murmurs, his cheeks flushing as a familiar strain presses against his sweats. He moves his hand to his lap to adjust himself, embarrassed.

"I didn’t drink tonight to forget," I lie, replacing Luca’s hand with my own. My fingers curl around his hardened length through his sweats, his eyes widening at the sudden contact. "I did it to give myself the confidence for my little speech," I murmur, glancing down, "and for this."

Luca’s head presses back against the headrest, a look of conflict in his eyes.

"Eden, after what you said—"

"Just watch," I whisper, sliding my hand up to his waistband, tugging it down just enough to reveal his boxers.

Before he can protest, I lower my head, silencing him with the touch of my lips against him, teasing him through the thin fabric of his boxers. A startled gasp of pleasure escapes him as I kiss up and down the length of his cock, tempting him with grazing the fabric covering his dick.

I wait for the familiar harsh tug on my hair, anticipating the roughness that usually follows.

Instead, his fingers thread softly through my hair, offering only tender touches.

Oh.