Page 50 of Shiver

“Since Arielle turned eighteen. She’s three years younger than Dante and me, so I guess about twelve years.”

My brows pinch together at this. “You and Dante are the same age?”

He nods, continuing what he’s doing at the stove. “Yeah, he’s the oldest of my adopted siblings, but he and I were born the same year.”

“Adopted siblings?” How come I didn’t know about this?

Oh, right.You didn’t ask.

“Yeah, my mom has multiple sclerosis, so after me, she and my dad decided to adopt. They weren’t sure if it was safe for her to have more children, and they had wanted to adopt anyway. Insert the family of three children showing up on Christmas day,” he says, smiling softly as he works in the kitchen.

Ididknow about her MS, as well as Alessandro’s. I remembered from the media fiasco a couple of years ago that I read about while looking into Luca’s past. So at least that part doesn’t come as a shock, but how hadn’t I known his other siblings were adopted?

“How come you all look alike?” I finally ask.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t really think we do. We’ve all got dark hair, but that’s really the only resemblance. I’m sure it helps that they’re half Italian. Gianni has blue eyes that are sort of like my mom’s, but Dante and Charlie are the only ones with brown eyes.”

I’ve nearly fallen victim to those eyes of Dante’s, and I certainly wouldn’t call them “brown.” They’re like polished onyx, so dark you can see your reflection in them, and I’m sort of convinced the man is capable of hypnosis with those things.

I nod, understanding seeping in slowly. Against my better judgment, I ask, “Growing up with such a big family, did you ever want kids of your own?”

The moment the words leave my mouth, I’m annoyed that I’d even asked them. “I’m sorry, Luca. You don’t need to answer that.” As someone who’s dealt with infertility and all of the emotions surrounding it,I know betterthan to ask questions like this.

“No, no, it’s okay, really,” he tells me, wiping his wet hands on a dishcloth. “I’ve always wanted kids but never found the right person, and truthfully, I felt undeserving of children.” This makes me pause.He’s felt undeserving of something so many people consider a normal part of life?“I was always making the wrong decisions, and when Ale was diagnosed with MS, I put a lot of that on myself. I didn’t think it was my fault or anything, but I figured that if one of us should’ve ended up with it, it should’ve been me.” My muscles tense, and I have difficulty swallowing my saliva. Luca casts his eyes down at the cutting board, meticulously chopping onions for the burgers he has cooking in a cast-iron skillet on the stove. “He was always the one taking care of me and my siblings, so I knew he’d be a good dad, and I didn’t want his life to be harder than it needed to be. Then Gia falls into my lap. Meanwhile, Kat and Ale are struggling with adoption agencies, and it just feels”—he takes a deep breath— “wrong?” he says like he’s asking a question.

“Wrong, how?” I can’t seem to stop myself. The fact that he’s thinking some of the same things I’ve been holding against him since the day I met him sours my stomach.Guilt is a tricky bitch.

His eyes slide to mine, and a pained expression crosses his handsome, chiseled features. “I’m able-bodied, not worried about the day that my career will end or that my body will stop working how I’d like it to, and I have this gorgeous, sweet kid who I already love so goddamn desperately; it kills me that I didn’t get to be there for her from the beginning.” His voice is filled with anguish at the thought of missing out on time with Gia, and it hits me like a punch to the gut. “But I make mistakes all the time, Samara. I’m constantly doing dumb shit, making impulsive decisions, and yet my brother has to bear the weight of so many obstacles. I just feel really fuckingundeserving.”

My chest tightens, and my heart starts to pound harder against my ribcage. He’s probably thought all of these things because of people like me, who’ve misjudged him time and time again. And now that I’m finally allowing my stubborn brain to fully recognize that,all I want to do is comfort him.

“You can’t help the things you can’t change, Luca. You aren’t to blame for your brother having different struggles than you, and it doesn’t mean that youdon’thave your own. Yes, you had a child literally fall into your lap, and she’s adorable beyond words, but you’re also having to learn how to be a father. That in itself is hard.” It nearly takes my breath away as I say the words I haven’t allowed myself to think until this moment. Until now, I’d genuinely been holding onto so much resentment toward Luca, partly for reasons out of his control. Some of those reasons reallyaren’this fault.

He looks over at me, sad eyes meeting mine, as he quietly says, “Thank you, Samara. I needed to hear that.”

I avert my gaze to Gia, who’s just finished her bottle and is looking rather milk drunk. “I think she’s done,” I say, chuckling and using the moment to change the subject to something not as heavy. I lift her semi-limp body onto my shoulder to burp her.

Once she’s thoroughly passed out in my arms and Luca has two absolutely massive burgers plated, he comes around the counter, taking her from me and heading to the room to put her down.

“We can eat anywhere you’d like. I’ll be a few minutes, and I don’t want you to eat a cold burger,” he tells me over his shoulder as he walks away.

Jesus Christ.I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go.

His ass is phenomenal, not that I expect anything less from a goalie.Aren’t those guys supposed to be the extra weird ones?

I avert my gaze to the burgers on the counter and resist the urge to dig in, not wanting to seem rude by not waiting for him to return.Yeah, Samara, eating the burger he told you to eat is the most rude thing you’ve done to this man.I scoff at myself, and when he closes the door behind him, I’m hit with a little wave of sadness at the fact that he’s now covering those tan, corded muscles with a black T-shirt.Such a shame.

“Oh, come on, princess, don’t look so disappointed,” he says with a smirk as he grabs the plates from the counter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I retort, hoping to save myself just an ounce of my pride, but it’s no use.

“Sure you don’t.” He winks at me as he brings the plates over to the couch and sets them down on the coffee table.

I grab some paper towels, joining him on the couch, but he stands and goes back to the kitchen. “Want anything to drink? I’ve got water, Gatorade, and Coke.”

“Coke. You can’t eat a burger with water,” I tell him.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he says, pouring us each a glass and bringing them back to the couch.

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