𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗯𝘆𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲𝘀.

~Pintrest~

Lia

The family's loud voices could be heard all over the house. My dad and uncles were seated in the gazebo drinking beers, laughing boisterously, mostly at their own jokes, retelling stories about their youth which we've heard a million times and each more embellished.

We were all eagerly waiting for him—Luca. The family star and hero. He was a formula one driver; he has also been racing since he turned sixteen. My dad and uncle Rom often said part of the reason uncle Bruno was so excited about it was that he was living his racing dream vicariously through Luca, an accusation he never denied.

I was standing at my bedroom window, overlooking the gate; I wanted to see him drive through; I also wanted my first glimpse of him to be private, or at least without the rest of the family reading my facial expressions and having their own interpretation. I could tell the women speculated about why Luca and I had become distant, but none knew the truth, not even my mom.

Placing my hand on my stomach to wade off the millions of butterflies swimming around, I thought of what to say to him, how to begin the conversation. Do I smile and pretend everything was okay? Do I jump on him in a hug as if I wasn't holding a grudge against him? Of course, I have seen him over the years, mainly on big holidays like Christmas and some birthday parties, but never mine. It was also his because we celebrated it together since we were born almost a month apart, as it had been our tradition since we turned five. Having him miss this particular tradition hurt me nearly as much as him walking away that day.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of an engine from afar, and I knew he would be here anytime now. My heart started beating rapidly, and with no rhythm, my hands shook, anxiety overtook me, and I despised this side of me.

I was born and raised a warrior. Growing up, my father often said I had as much grit as any man in a room. I knew I was courageous; I could hold my own in a fight; I had a habit of threatening bullies in school, both boys and girls, and learned how to use a gun when I was four, a toy, but still, the concept was the same. I rarely cried except when reading or watching a sad scene, but Luca brought a weak side that I never knew existed, a side of me that I was beginning to loathe.

Reluctantly, I turned to look at myself in the mirror, another bad habit, because I knew I did because I wanted to see what he would see when he looked at me. I wanted to look good, even unforgettable.

There I was, standing with my hands across my chest. My dark orbs, just like my father's staring back at me, my long curly red hair twirling around my shoulders, lips painted red. Maybe he was right when he said my eyes were as black as sin, and my hair flamed as if it was ready to burn both of us in a forbidden passion.

If I were not so attuned to the vroom of his car, I would have missed it as family cheers swallowed the sound. I turned to the window again to watch him park it-a red Ford Mustang Shelby. I knew it because we learned about old cars together, something else he inherited from his father. I learned it because he loved it, just as he learned about fashion and acting, for I loved it.

Growing up with Luca was as enjoyable as running on a treadmill without stopping to breathe. He was intrigued about everything and wanted to do everything. He excelled in pretty much every sport and everything he put his mind to.

People frequently asked me why I was so good at almost everything, how I could speak five languages fluently, how seamlessly I could fit in any situation no matter the hurdles, and how I knew things that were not taught in any classroom. I used to laugh and say I grew up with an overachiever; I had to keep up somehow. Now I just shrug and say I read.

I watched him hug the kids. His fourteen-year-old sister Alessa giggled when he kissed her cheeks, one of his hands beneath her long black hair while the other was around her waist. He had grown more than a few inches taller, I thought, watching his crouched body embracing her. It's crazy to imagine that there was a time we were the same height. Even though I wasn't as short as my mom or tall as my dad, I was considerably tall for a woman in this family—Serena and I got the tall gene from our fathers, yet neither of us could ever be as tall as the men in our family.

The universe was fucking unfair. Every male in this family was tall. Even thirteen-year-old Nicolo—uncle Rom's son, was now taller than me. I watched him fist thumb Luca, a broad smile across his mouth, his twin sister Sienna jumped on him for a hug, and Luca moved her to his hip, holding her with one arm while the other was held out for Zion. I envied them. Their ability to openly love him and shower him with welcoming grins while I hid inside because I had no idea how to put aside my anger long enough to welcome him.

He dragged Zion into his chest, giving him a one-way hug while he kissed Serena's forehead. He was a charmer, beloved by everyone who met him, yet dangerous when he was angry. He wasn't the kind to kill and ask questions later type of person; that was Zion; Luca could hold his anger long enough to decide whether someone deserved death or mercy. I have more than a few little things I like about him as I have major reasons why he will remain the only boy that makes me as angry as he makes me happy. He was irreplaceable.

Once he had finished hugging the kids, the women were next. His mother raised her arms, and he crouched again to accommodate her height. I knew she was whispering something to him because I could see him nodding. I remembered him one afternoon when we were ten, telling me about his childhood before coming to live with us, mostly his memories of his stepfather's cruelty and how reassuring his mother's hugs had been.

He looked larger than life now. A man who'd gone out to the world to find his niche and found it. He had become a household name; his image had graced sports pages since he was sixteen, a part of his life that had excluded me entirely.

Taking a final look in the mirror, I turned to walk out. I was about to enter the kitchen, but then I heard my aunt Mia whispering; I decided to go straight to the dining room. I didn't want to get caught up in their gossip.

"Here she is, " my dad said, "where have you been? Luca has been asking for you." He probably did to avoid speculation as to why he wasn't asking for me. "Here I am, " I responded, faking a smile, walking to where he was. He stood, smiling back at me, then pulled me into his arms. It was warm and safe. His hug exuded such an amazing feeling within me that I almost forgot I was angry at him and only focused on how nice he smelled, how his strong arms wound around me as if he never wanted to let me go.

Our mealtimes were always chaotic at best. Everyone wanted to speak and be heard, mainly at the same time. Looking around the table at everyone trying to talk simultaneously, nothing much had changed except two things. Our mothers no longer needed to yell at us not to speak with food in our mouths and the topics we seemed to discuss. We were now young adults; our interests had become sophisticated. We talked about music, fashion, movies, cultures, and how it felt to win championships in Luca's case.

I didn't speak much even though this was my going away party; I had nothing to say, especially since I felt as if there was a lump stuck in my throat, and the cause of it was seated two seats away from me. He kept throwing me surreptitious looks; I felt them as much as I felt the heart beating in my chest.

When we were done eating, I stood, ready to excuse myself with the ruse of checking whether I had packed everything I needed. Luca also stood, saying he needed to speak to me in private.

Good, I had pretty to say to him as well. Suddenly, I couldn't wait until we were alone. He took my hand, leading me to the other side of the house, or where I thought he was taking me, except he led me deep into the woods, my wedges managed the terrain like the champions they were.

"Mind telling me why you're mad, " he announced, dropping my hand as if it was hot.

Tell him why I was mad. Was he fucking serious?

I glared at him, and he did the same. Our eyes met with anger and unresolved emotions threatening to explode to the surface.

"Why do you think I'm mad?" I taunted him, leaning on a tree behind me.

"Don't mess with me, Lia." he calmly said, taking one step toward me.

I refused to tell him. He knew why I was mad; why should I have to spell it out to his grown-up ass? I was so angry I could have chosen to stand there with my eyes on him and then walk away within ten minutes of him not initiating the conversation.

"I had to leave."

And there it was. The reason why we were no longer as close as we had been. His voice was soft as if he didn't want the universe to hear it. It already knew anyway. I thought as I moved my eyes around the woods, making sure not to look at him.

"I had to leave," he repeated. This time I looked at him. "Why?" I asked in a deep voice solely because I didn't want to show him how vulnerable I felt.

"What do you mean why? You know why!"

"No, I don't. Please enlighten me." I could tell my sarcasm pissed him off because he glared at me, and the few wrinkles on his forehead appeared.

"We had sex at fourteen," he stated in an obvious manner.

"So?" I shrugged. "It was consensual."

'Yes, but do you remember what happened a few weeks after that?"

How could I forget? It was the scariest day of my life.

"A pregnancy scare, Lia. Could you even begin to contemplate the implications of that?"

"Fuck you, Luc!" I swore, slowly and audibly. " I would have been the most affected; you, on the other hand, would have gone ahead to be a champion while I stayed back taking care of it. So do not stand there and patronize me."

"That was not my intention. But don't act so superior yourself. You know very well it would have affected both of us, albeit differently. "

He was right, of course.

"So let me get this straight, you left because of a pregnancy scare that never materialized?"

"No. I left because if I had stayed, we would have done it again and again until we ran out of luck."

He was right again. But I was not willing to admit that.

"Don't flatter yourself," I said instead.

He laughed then, a mocking chuckle that made me want to slap him.

"I had to leave, Lia. For both our sakes," he whispered after a while.

"You cut me out of your life, Luc," I said, baring both my heart and soul for him to see.

He started to shake his head, but I waylaid him with my hand. "Don't deny it; you did. I haven't been part of your success or your journey to success; you didn't even invite me to your first race."

"I invited the whole damn family; everyone came but you." He accused angrily. It seemed like we both had hurt each other.

"I gave myself to you, and in return, for some moot reasons, you left for six years. I only got to see you for a day or two when you came back, and even then, you didn't spend much time with me. "

"I'm sorry." He whispered and sounded so sorrowful I wanted to cry, but I was made of stunner stuff than that. I didn't cry.

"Goodbye, Luc; I wish you the very best. You probably don't need it, but I thought I should say that. I mean it too. I might hate you, but I will always be your number one fan or after your dad." I said with a sad smile.

Yes, I was jealous, bitter, and angry, mainly at myself. That is why I decided to leave home as well. I was heading to Los Angeles to chase my dream. I was letting him go, this time for good.