Page 159 of Bitter When He Begs

Not in a bad way. In a “fuck, how did I get so lucky?” kind of way.

We get out, walking up the driveway in comfortable silence, and the second Luca opens the door, the warmth of the house wraps around us. It’s quiet—most of his roommates are probably asleep or holed up in their rooms—but there’s a faint glow coming from the kitchen, a sign that at least someone is still up.

Luca tugs me toward the stairs, leading me up to his room, and when we step inside, he locks the door behind us like he’s sealing us off from the rest of the world.

And maybe that’s exactly what I need right now.

He unbuttons his shirt, tossing it onto his desk chair before reaching for the hem of my own. I let him lift it over my head, shivering slightly at the loss of warmth, but then his hands are back, fingers curling around my waist as he pulls me in.

“Come here,” he murmurs, and I don’t think twice before stepping into his arms, letting him hold me, letting him be the steady thing I need right now.

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” I mumble against his chest.

“Don’t be,” he says immediately, his lips pressing against the top of my head. “You think I don’t get it? You think I don’t have nights where my brain tries to eat itself alive?”

I exhale slowly, my hands resting against his bare chest, feeling the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palms. “Yeah, but… it’s different for you.”

“How?”

I lift my head, meeting his gaze. “You handle things, Luca. You don’t break down in the middle of the road like a fucking mess.”

His fingers tighten against my skin, his jaw clenching slightly. “Baby, I broke down in a hotel room when my best friends stopped me from relapsing. I broke down when I got back to you the next day and you held me. I broke down when I was accused of using again and was proven innocent.”

“That’s not—”

“And who was there to hold me up when I was falling apart?” he asks, pushing my hair out of my face. “You, Sunshine. You’ve always been there for me, so let me be your rock, too.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

Because, yeah, I know he has. I’ve seen it—the aftermath, the weight of it in his eyes, the way he hated himself for cravingsomething he was trying so hard to leave behind. But it’s different, isn’t it? He was dealing with addiction, with something tangible. My breakdown tonight? It was just feelings.

“Sage,” he says, tilting my chin up so I can’t avoid his gaze. “Pain is pain. Struggling is struggling. Just because mine looks different doesn’t mean yours isn’t real.”

I swallow hard, nodding slightly, and Luca exhales before pressing another kiss to my forehead. “You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he murmurs. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why we’re doing this together.”

And just like that, something in my chest unclenches.

Luca loves me.

And maybe that’s why I broke tonight.

Because I’ve never been loved like this before—and now that I have it, I don’t ever want to let go.

Sage

Luca’sfingerstraillazilyover my spine, his touch barely there like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. I wake slowly, my body warm and heavy against his, my cheek resting on his chest. His breathing is steady, but his muscles feel tense, his mind obviously somewhere else.

I blink the sleep from my eyes, listening to the quiet sounds of the house waking up around us—the faint murmur of voices downstairs, the occasional clatter of dishes in the kitchen, and someone’s muffled laughter from the hallway. But in here, in our space, it’s just Luca and me, tangled together in his sheets, his fingers continuing to trace lazy circles against my skin.

I press a kiss to his jaw, my lips barely brushing against the stubble there. “You’re thinking too loud,” I murmur.

Luca tenses slightly, his hand stilling for just a moment before he exhales, his fingers resuming their slow, absentminded path down my back. “Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says, voice still rough with sleep.

“You didn’t,” I say, shifting just enough to look up at him. His blue eyes are distant and unfocused like he’s a million miles away. “What’s wrong?”

He hesitates, his jaw clenching before he sighs, turning onto his side so we’re facing each other. “Will you come to the game tonight?”

I blink up at him. “Seriously? You have to ask?”

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