Page 33 of Green Flag (StormSprint #2)

“It sure would piss off my dad,” I said and lifted my arms for him to hoist me up, kicking the door closed behind us as he carried me newlywed style.

“So, the car?”

“I got it after you left. I thought it would be nice to have a set of wheels for us to get around,” he said. “We could visit your family or drive to a different state or go for food. It just makes life easier.”

“If we’re both going to use it, we can go halves —”

He snorted and shook his head, popping me down as the garage lift opened for us and we stepped in.

“Don’t be silly.”

I gripped his arm to balance myself as I slipped my shoes off.

“I can pay—”

“Use your money for studio time,” he said firmly. “So I can finally add some more songs to my playlist.”

My arms wrapped tightly around him and I buried my head into his chest, surprised it had taken me so long to touch him. ‘I love you’ nearly slipped from my lips even though it would obviously be a lie and inappropriate and mortifying and categorically untrue.

But it was there on the tip of my tipsy tongue.

He stroked my hair. “A glass of water and bedtime?”

I nodded into his chest. “Maybe a cuddle too. It was so cold out there, I need warming up.”

His inhale was long under my cheek.

“Only if that’s okay.”

“Always,” he said. Then we were walking into our hotel room and he was getting me a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and placing it on my bedside table.

I faceplanted the pillows as he got into bed beside me.

“Your phone’s going off,” he said, and I rolled my head to see through my hair that my phone was in his hand. It showed Fia’s smiling face requesting a FaceTime.

“Shit, my sister,” I said and leapt up to grab it before it rang out. “Hello!”

Luca settled beside me as my sister’s face filled the screen with a judgmental brow raise. “Well, hello, Miss Drunk.”

“I am not drunk, am I? Tell her, Luca.”

I turned the phone round only to realise through the camera that he had taken his top off.

“She’s pretty wasted,” Luca laughed. “Hi, Fia.”

For someone who nearly cried with excitement that I was with Luca, her brows didn’t budge. “And you’re not going to take advantage of that, are you?”

His eyes widened and he stuttered a few syllables.

“Zsófia!” I cried, shoving my phone so close to my face that she could see how angry I was purely by my narrowed eyes. I wished he would take advantage of me.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Luca said, shaking his head and wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

I pulled the phone back to show the both of us, but my narrowed eyes remained a warning for her to behave.

“You’re better than her ex,” she said with a nod. “Wouldn’t put it past that scum—”

“Zsófia Bacque,” I scolded, voice low and firm.

She shrugged it off. “Talking of boyfriends…So, you know Jordan…”

“I do,” I said. “But get Luca up to speed.”

Jordan had been our topic of conversation most nights in the last two weeks. He was a new boy at her school whom she was crushing on badly, to the point that she’d checked their star signs’ compatibility. Not that she’d tell anyone else that.

“He’s invited me to stay the night.” She said and raised her brows, pursing her lips in excitement.

“Fia, no. Nope. You’ve known him for a month. Give it more time—”

“But what if he doesn’t want to wait and finds someone—”

“Then he’s not worth it in the first place,” Luca said, his voice vibrating through my back. “If he loved you, he’d wait.”

“I don’t care about love.”

“You should,” he said, stroking my shoulder.

Oh, I was too drunk for this. Far, far too drunk for this.

“I think we can have a more productive conversation tomorrow,” I told her, trying to rapidly blink out the alcohol that was clouding my judgment.

Normally, I would reason with her instead of going into mother mode.

“When I’m less drunk and less reactive. I’ll hear you out, but for right now, whatever advice you need from me is limited. ”

She grunted and rolled her eyes. “I thought you’d be more open-minded drunk.”

“I’m really tired,” I admitted.

She pouted in mock sympathy. “Aw, no massage for Luca tonight?”

My face heated. Oh no, no, no. She wasn’t about to—

“What?” Luca chuckled, leaning in to narrow his eyes at my sister. “Massage?”

“She’s been watching YouTube videos on how to give massages, and I bought her a course for Christmas,” she said really quickly. “Because she hates you getting massaged by that other lady. Bye!”

And she hung up and left me staring open-mouthed at my blank screen.

Oh no, she fucking didn’t.

Luca cocked his head to the side, looking at me, his bottom lip no longer visible as he bit it into his mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” I said, putting my phone under the pillow but really wanting to suffocate myself with it.

I uncracked the bottle and guzzled the ice-cold water, refusing to look at him, but I could feel him looming over me, waiting for an answer.

“Everly,” he said and gently pulled at my shoulder to face him. “You’re jealous.”

I crossed my arms. “Definitely not.”

“A massage course?”

“It’s a good skill to have,” I snapped, putting the bottle back on the side with more force than necessary.

“It’s a specific one,” he countered.

I turned and he was looking at me with a soft, thoughtful expression.

“I might not like the thought of another woman getting all up in there,” I said and waved at his exposed, lean, drool-worthy chest. “When you’re meant to be mine. I thought it could be a bonding moment to make us seem a bit more believable.”

“You don’t think we seem believable?”

Too believable. So believable, I might start to believe.

“I don’t know,” I sighed and pulled the cover over me, up to my chin. “There are just so many other women here that it’s more realistic for you to be with. Hollie, for example.”

He blinked, pulled the duvet off of him and kneeled beside me. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

His voice rose with confusion. “Why am I more likely to be with them?”

If it wouldn’t make me look like a child, I’d lift the duvet over my face.

I took a deep breath before giving the list I’d thought through multiple times.

“Prettier, calmer, charismatic, slimmer. Not worrying about another psoriasis flare-up. They have an actual direction for their lives. They know what they want. They have functioning relationships with their families. They aren’t failures. ”

There was silence, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him; I just twisted Mum’s ring around my finger.

Maybe he didn’t speak because he was waiting for me to list more. I might as well even it out to ten.

“Because they’re lovable.”

He flinched, and our gazes collided. Only then did I realise my eyes were filled with tears, and his confused expression was blurred.

“Why do you think you’re unlovable?” he asked so softly it almost sounded like a whisper.

Despite my swallow to stall, my voice still came out broken. “Because I’m an awful daughter. I’m an awful friend. I don’t… I don’t know how to get people to like me.”

He blinked harshly, head inching back as he stroked my shoulder.

Tears were streaming down my face.

He brushed them away with gentle thumbs.

“Why do you think that?”

“My mum… she’s not well. It’s my fault her lupus relapsed and never got better.

It wasn’t just my dad cheating on her with Marina that triggered her.

It was my relationship with Pedro— she knew all along about us and…

she hated it. Hated him. And—and—” I was hyperventilating now.

Luca scooped me up and pulled me into his chest, stroking my back.

“You were a teenager, a young adult, Everly. It’s not your fault at all.”

“I can’t look at her.” My words trembled with tears. “I avoid her every chance I get… I can’t see what I’ve done.”

His words were in my hair. “You haven’t done anything. It’s not your fault.”

“But—but—but—”

He tucked my hair behind my ears.

But if I didn’t say this now, I wouldn’t ever.

“I’ve also been shit to you,” I managed to choke out.

He cocked his head to the side but didn’t press.

“I texted Pedro.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“No, as in… Like, not just after info. I did it for attention.”

He straightened and I hated that whatever emotion that flashed in his eyes could have been hurt.

“After you went to Livie’s room and… God, I’m such a dick.”

“No, Everly, no. Listen to me.”

Finally, I looked up at him through my lashes.

“We’re not… we’re not together.” His voice was tight and he stroked my arm. “It’s not like you cheated.”

So why did it feel like I had?

“I didn’t even get much more than empty promises from him. He said he wanted me to find something valuable first or… or to meet up with him.”

His eyes darkened.

“I wouldn’t—I know I wouldn’t. I just… that’s why I did it. I… Do you see now? Why I think that way?”

He was silent, waiting for me to look up at him again. “Have I ever lied to you?”

I shook my head, my throat so sore I didn’t know if I could form a coherent response.

“Everly Bacque,” he said and I loved how he said my name, but this was different.

His voice was thick with emotion as my bottom lip wobbled.

“You’re the most lovable person I know. You felt wronged and…

. I get it. You are so driven — you want the truth and…

it’s not even just that. Look at how you’ve improved on the track.

Look at all the songs you’ve released. You get up and do every day.

You don’t try. You succeed. You aren’t just pretty, you are stunning.

You stop me in my tracks every time I see you.

And your most attractive quality? You take no one’s shit. ”

I nodded, but my heart wasn’t in it.

“Who gets the most requests for tours?”

“Me,” I said, voice broken. “But that’s because of the song—”

“Who wrote a song that went viral about motorbike racing? A song that raised awareness of the sport? A song that will be on the promo for a series?”

“Me,” I said again with a weak, watery smile.

“Who wrote two songs that went viral?”

“Me.”

“Who looks out for their sister and calls her every day?”

“Me.” My voice came out less choked with every response.

“And who makes me laugh and smile every day? On days when my face feels so heavy, days when everything is pulling me down?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” he said with the sweetest smile before bending to kiss my forehead.

Somehow, that touch always calmed my chaotic, stormy mind.

I wanted his lips to rest there, a constant peace against the rage on the other side of my skull.

“You have picked me up when I’ve been at my lowest. Not by comparing yourself to the other grid girls.

By simply being yourself. You’re you and no one else.

You are lovable. You are not a failure.”

I nodded again, but this time with more conviction.

“What happened to your mum is not your fault.”

“Are you sure?” I whispered and sniffed.

“Certain,” he said.

He got back under the duvet and pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m really looking forward to your massaging skills.”

My laugh was still choked with the remaining tears but it was there.

“And your psoriasis?”

“I get it in my scalp and my palms, but mostly on my lower stomach. I have a little scratch star and roller in the fridge to stop me from itching, making it bleed, and then getting infected. Oh, and you can’t use my shampoo.”

He gave me his pinky finger. “Promise.”

“I’m having a flare-up right now,” I said, voice confident despite the fact that he might be the only person I had ever told since Pedro told me to cover up. “It’s always on my stomach that it starts. That’s why the pigment on my arms is patchy. I hate all the marks it leaves.”

“I think they’re beautiful. They show how strong you are, how your body heals.”

I inhaled deeply, taken aback by that. People pretended not to see them. But not Luca. “When I said I looked adorable, I didn’t mean it. I know I’ve got about a week until it covers the whole of my back and thighs too. Hence the shorter-than-short dress tonight.”

“Does it hurt?” he asked softly, his strokes on my skin soothing.

“It itches. It’s sore. Especially on my palms. But I have an ointment— a steroid cream that helps. I didn’t want to put it on in front of you. Sorry if I was a bit over the top not wanting to share a room…”

“Not at all.” He shook his head sincerely. “Where’s the ointment?”

I pulled out the bedside drawer and he leaned over me to get it, pressing his chest into my hips.

“Want a massage?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye. “I can get your back for you.”

I nodded, grateful that it was relatively dark in the room, even with his bedside lamp on.

He worked over my stomach and lower back carefully, massaging out my knots and making me suppress a moan here and there.

He was gentle and loving.

As I’d always expected him to be.

Even in just my underwear, for the first time since I’d met him at that bar months ago, the air between us wasn’t sexually charged.

We didn’t talk. I let myself enjoy his hands and the fact that this man was everything I wanted, even if it was a drunken thought.

I didn’t know if I’d ever been looked after like this.

“You’re the best,” I told him, wiping my eyes when he sat back on his heels.

His grin was soft. “As your biggest fan, I’m telling you that you are the best. And you should be proud of yourself, Everly.

You are so beautiful outside and in.” He settled back into the bed beside me as I threw my pyjama top on over my bra.

“And you handled that conversation with your sister really well.”

“As did you,” I said, rolling over so our faces were inches apart.

“My sister and I aren’t anywhere near as close,” he said, pulling our bodies flush, just my bra between our chests.

“I love Fia.” And I had to protect her. Against anything and everything. “Which is why whatever we find on my dad… it gets you out of your contract, but that’s as far as it goes.” I didn’t mention my dad losing his job anymore, because I no longer wanted that.

Even though Luca hadn’t cheated on me, Dad’s strong reaction had pulled at my heartstrings a smidge. He was also the best director across StormSprint, and my love for Ciclati had grown so much that I wanted the best for the team.

But the best for the team also meant Luca.

And he deserved better than being trapped in something fake.