Page 52 of Pucking Tangled
FIFTY-ONE
Luca
Luca hadn’t been home since before he signed with the Barn Raisers, but driving the stretch of road through South Central Texas, he was happy to see it still looked like a painting come to life—rolling hills, sun-drunk wildflowers, vineyards unfurling in long, perfect rows beside limestone buildings with tin roofs and wraparound porches.
He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel as they passed a sign for Weintraube, then turned down a narrow road flanked by live oaks and split-rail fences. “Ten more minutes,” he said. His voice came out sounding calm, but inside his body, his heart was pounding.
Mia reached over from the passenger seat and squeezed his hand. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just nervous.”
Waylon leaned forward, his head popping into view between the headrests. “You did tell your mom we were all really coming, right?” he teased .
“Yes, asshole,” Luca said with a snort. “She knows I’m bringing my girlfriend and her three other boyfriends.”
Owen, half asleep in the backseat, mumbled, “Bet your mom made, like, five casseroles.”
“I hope so, I’m starving.” Waylon rubbed his stomach.
Luca exhaled a quiet laugh. “She probably made enough to feed the entire town. Wouldn’t be surprised if she invited the entire town.”
“Yikes.” Casey sat upright from where he was lounging next to Owen. “Are we sure that’s a good idea?”
“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Luca asked, quickly glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
The closer they got to the house, the harder it was for him to pretend like this visit wasn’t huge.
It was one thing to tell his parents over the phone about his relationship—it was another to show up hand-in-hand with Mia, who might also at some point link hands with one of her other boyfriends in front of his parents.
Not that the guys would ever be disrespectful, but they were still learning to navigate this relationship and it was hard not to want to constantly touch Mia, hold her hand, or kiss her.
They passed Keller Vineyards first, a quaint winery that offered tours and tastings. It was Luca’s parents’ favorite.
Just a little further down the road, his family home sat a few hundred yards back off the main road., perched on a gentle slope surrounded by vines and pecan trees. The old stone house had been restored a few years ago, but still looked like something out of a Hill Country postcard.
He pulled onto the gravel driveway and put the rental car in park. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
His mom was already coming down the steps before they even made it out of the car.
Celia Blackford was small but fierce, with silver-streaked curls pulled into a low bun and a linen apron still tied around her waist.
“Luca!” she called out, opening her arms wide. “You took your sweet time!”
He stepped right into her arms. “Hi, Momma.”
She kissed his cheek twice, then turned to the others with sharp eyes and a wide smile. “So these must be the people you’ve told me nothing about.”
Luca’s face flushed. “Yup.” He gestured as he introduced them. “Mia, Casey, Owen, Waylon. Guys—this is my mom.”
Celia wasted no time. She hugged each one and kissed their cheeks. “Welcome. And thank you for loving my son. He can be moody and stubborn, but he’s got a good heart.”
“Mom!” Luca groaned.
“Oh. He’s definitely stubborn.” Waylon winked.
“He is not.” Mia playfully smacked Waylon in the stomach. “I’ve never seen him moody either.”
Celia laughed. “I like them already,” she told Luca. She waved them all forward. “Come inside. I made brisket and buttered green beans and fresh rolls. And kolaches. The real kind.”
“I love it here already,” Owen chimed in.
The house was cool compared to the Texas heat outside, thanks to the covered porch and surrounding trees.
The floor plan was open, full of soft light and wood floors, and high ceilings with natural wood beams. The walls were lined with photos—childhood birthdays, Luca’s first day of kindergarten, in a youth hockey jersey, then again in college gear, his arms around his teammates.
“Aww look at little Luca.” Waylon stopped, pointing out one photo of Luca at Halloween when he was 12. “Why am I not surprised that you dressed up as Harry Potter? ”
“Yeah, but in my defense, that was before I found out she was transphobic.” Luca winced. “Sucks because I really loved Harry Potter, but I can’t support someone like that.” He shook his head, feeling his face turn down in a scowl.
“Ah, there’s my boy!” Luca’s dad, Dean Blackford, stepped into the room and immediately pulled Luca in for a hug, clapping him on the back. “I’m sorry about that, I was out back tending to the chickens when you pulled up.”
“Chickens?” Mia gasped. “Your parents have chickens?!”
Luca smiled and nodded. “They do. I’ll introduce you later.” He turned back to his father. “Dad, this is Mia, Casey, Owen, and Waylon.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet all four of you. I’m sorry we don’t have room here to put all of you up,” he said, shaking everyone’s hand.
“It’s not a problem. I found a quaint little cabin about twenty minutes away.” Luca smiled. “It came with a tour and tasting package at Keller Vineyard that I thought everyone would enjoy.”
“That sounds lovely, Dear.” His mom clapped her hands together. “I actually picked up a bottle of their rosé for dinner.”
By the time they sat down for dinner on the back patio, the sky had turned the most stunning shades of gold and pink.
His father led a simple grace then they passed all the food around.
His mom glanced toward Mia. “So, my Luca says you’re in law school?” she asked.
Mia took a sip of her wine before answering. “Yes ma’am. I’m hoping to graduate in the fall. ”
“Please, sweetheart. Call me Celia or Mom. None of this ‘ma’am’ stuff. We’re family.”
Luca’s heart squeezed in his chest. They hadn’t been here long, but his parents were already so warm and welcoming.
“What will you do after graduation?” his father asked.
Mia looked around the table at all of her men. “Well, I have an internship offer from a certain hockey organization that I’m still considering, but we’ll see how it goes.”
“Sounds lovely, dear.” Celia nodded.
“She’s amazing,” Luca said before he could help it.
Mia squeezed his hand under the table.
Celia filled her wine glass and asked, “And you boys—how did this all come together, if you don’t mind me being nosy?”
Waylon arched his brow. “You want the PG version or the extended cut?”
Dean cleared his throat, and Celia smacked Waylon lightly with a napkin. “Boy, you better give me the version I could repeat to your future children.”
At the mention of children, Waylon’s eyes lit up with amusement, while Casey and Owen smirked at Mia, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Luca wanted to crawl under the table and hide because of Waylon’s antics.
“Honestly?” Luca finally said. “It wasn’t one big moment. Just…a thousand little ones. Mia moved in, and suddenly the house was warmer. Homier. Quieter when it needed to be. Loud in the best ways. She made space for all of us. And we made space for each other.”
“Some of us, slower than others,” Casey teased.
“But it’s all been worth it,” Owen added softly.
Luca’s father studied them, nodding. “It’s not conventional. But there’s a lot of strength in knowing what works for you and standing in it.”
Celia dabbed the corners of her eyes. “I raised a good man,” she said quietly, reaching across the table to touch Luca’s hand.
He swallowed hard. “Thanks, Momma.”
“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” his mom continued breezily. “Mia, what’s something about Luca that absolutely drives you crazy? And you can’t say there’s nothing.”
“Are you sure you want her to answer that, Celia?” Waylon asked, wiggling his brows.
Dean let out a chuckle. “Well, we know who the troublemaker is.”
“You have no idea,” Luca grumbled and tossed a roll at Waylon.
“Hey, no throwing food at the table, Luca,” Celia playfully scolded.
“You have to forgive him,” Mia said, narrowing her gaze at Waylon. “I think he’s been hit in the head one too many times.”
Waylon stuck out his tongue, making Celia laugh out loud.
“Hmm…one thing Luca does that drives me crazy?” Mia tapped her chin. “Oh! I know! He folds towels like we live at some five-star resort.”
“Don’t look at the towels in our bathroom then.” Dean threw his head back and laughed.
“Wait.” Mia smiled. “So who taught him to fold towels like that?”
Dean immediately looked at his wife and raised a brow.
“Guilty.” Celia said, feigning embarrassment.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t re-fold all the towels,” Owen interjected, pretending to fold his dinner napkin like Luca folds towels.
“It looks ridiculous when they’re not all folded the same way,” Luca defended himself.
His parents continued asking questions while Waylon, Casey, Owen and Mia answered and cracked jokes like they’d known his family forever.
When dessert came out—warm peach cobbler with cinnamon cream—everyone was already half-stuffed and lazily happy.
Celia brought out a bottle of the winery’s small-batch muscat, pouring small glasses for toasts.
“To new beginnings,” she said, lifting hers.
“To found families,” Casey added.
“To Luca’s towel-folding therapy,” Waylon muttered, earning another round of laughter.
Dean surprised them all when he added, “To love. In all its forms.”