Page 83 of See Me

“Is that the only family you have around here?”

“Yeah. Evie lives up in Oregon with her mom, and her father Marco is still around here, last I heard.” The way he talks about her dad tells me he doesn’t have a relationship with the man. Who would be his uncle? “And after Gram’s passing, Enzo and I are the only Russo’s left here in town—well besides Marco. And Benny, I suppose. He’s family.”

The lights are already on the tree; he must’ve been at this for a while, so I pick up a box of red and gold ornaments. “But not a Russo?”

“No. He was my coach.” Luca watches how I place the bulbs and mirrors me on the other side of the tree. “I met him when I was fifteen.”

“Coach for what?”

“Started out as boxing. Then it morphed into MMA fighting.”

“That explains the gym equipment. He doesn’t coach anymore?”

“No.” He clears his throat and swallows harshly. “Knockout’s is his old gym. I bought it after things… fell apart.”

“What happened?”

He sets the box down with a strained smile and wipes his hands on his pants. “Story for another time. You want a beer?”

My mind sifts through the possibilities. What could've happened that ended his fighting career andcause Benny to close his gym? He walks to the fridge and looks back when I don’t answer.

“Yeah, sure.” When I can’t reach any higher to place bulbs strategically without messing up the pattern, I switch to the little golden snowflakes in the other box.

He twists the tops off the bottles and walks back to hand me one. I set the ornaments down and take it from him. “Thanks.” I take a drink and set it on the table behind me.

“So, a teacher, huh?”

I push my hair behind my ears and pick up some little bronze bells. “Yeah. I can’t wait to start.” I look over to the boxes and piles of supplies I’ve managed to accumulate with Cassie’s help, and my heart sings. “That hoard over there is full of pens and markers and color-coded sticky notes, and accordion folders and…” I look up and giggle when I see his raised brow. “Sorry, I get a little excited over office supplies.”

“Did you always want to be a teacher?”

“After I realized I would never be a ballerina, you mean?” I laugh.

Luca grabs the ornaments and places them higher than I can reach. “Why couldn't you be a ballerina?”

I take a swig of beer and huff a laugh. “I’m not really built for it. Physically.”

His eyes take a slow journey from my head to my toes. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“Dancers have a certain body type. Once puberty hit, I didn’t fit the mold anymore. I remember crying when I overheard my partner telling the teacher I was too heavy to lift.”

“Heavy?” He scoffs. “I picked you up with no…”

My eyes meet his when he trails off, assuming the same memories dancing in my brain are floating through his. His eyes darken and I turn to grab my bottle and chug, etiquette training be damned.

“It was all for the best. I wasn’t a great dancer, technically speaking. My parents just threw enough money around to keep me at the top of the list. And once those words hit my ears, I lost all passion for it. Whether my body fit the mold or not, I was done.”

I don’t have to see him to feel his eyes still tracking down my body. I can feel their perusal like a physical touch. Good thing I was smart and bought some padded bras, because the twins are preening like a peacock in heat under his stare.

“What about singing? I’ve heard you singing.”

I wave off the comment. “That’s just for fun.”

“Well, you sound better than half the people that do it for a living.”

I look at him as my cheeks heat. He’s being nice. It feels wrong but oh so good.I’m so needy.“Thanks. I’m not really one for public attention, though. I only do that when copious amounts of tequila are involved.”

“If teaching doesn’t work out, at least you have a backup. Hey, I want to ask you something that’s been nagging my brain. Why do you go by Ella? Why not Ellie? It makes more sense with Elliot being your real name.” He hangs another ornament after watching how I pattern them. “I mean, Ellie… Elliot.”

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