Page 94 of Hail Marry

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He puts a hand to his low back as we walk inside. “I got a helmet to the back during the game.”

I wince as I think of all the times he got hit. “You got a lot more than that from what I saw.”

A lopsided smile appears on his face. “I do wear pads, you know.”

“Yeah.” I close the door and put down my purse. “That’s like putting bubble wrap around a pumpkin and tossing it off the roof. Over and over. Here, lemme see.”

I don’t know what possessed me to say such a thing, but it’s not until Luca hesitates for a couple of seconds then begins pulling off his shirt that my reason returns.

It’s too late by then, though. The shirt is off.

I get a flash of sculpted shoulders, pecs, and abs before he turns. I suck in a breath.

A big, purple bruise is already forming on his left side below his ribs.

“Jeez,” I say in a hushed whisper, coming closer for a better look at the carnage.

He looks over his shoulder, winces, and turns away again. “How does it look?”

I grimace. “Like you got tossed off the roof. Without bubble wrap. It’s already very colorful.”

“Good.”

“Good?” I say incredulously.

“I hate when I get injured and have nothing to show for it.”

I laugh. “You’re so weird.” I put out a finger to touch the raised, purple area.

Luca flinches, drawing away from my touch as if I just pressed a hot iron to his skin.

“Oh—sorry,” I say, feeling immediately stupid. Did I hurt him, or does he not want me touching him?

“It’s fine,” he says, grabbing his shirt and, with intermittent flinching, starting to put it back on.

I clear my throat. “I’ll get you some ice,” I say, heading for the kitchen. I look in the freezer and grab one of the many ice packs he always has at the ready.

He comes walking in, and I hand the pack to him.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” I pause. “Do you need…help? That spot on your back can’t be easy to reach.”

He looks at me for a long second, as though weighing the offer, before he shakes his head. “I’ve got it. Thanks.”

“No problem,” I say, forcing a brightness into my voice that I don’t feel, a lump rising in my throat.

I didn’t imagine it. He doesn’t want me touching him.

I wish knowing that didn’t hurt so much.

23

TORI

Never in thehistory of politeness has anyone approached the levels at which Luca and I are now operating. We talk about the weather and our schedules and who’s using the washing machine. We smile but break eye contact as soon as possible.