Love Match (Love Match 1)

He nodded tersely. His father had died years ago. He’d held on to watch Luke win his first Wimbledon before the cancer took him.

“Luke, you can talk to me. If you’ve met someone new—”

He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back. “I haven’t.”

“But, sweetheart—”

“I have to go. I can’t…I just can’t.” Luke tried to stay calm, but by the time he got past the kitchen, he was running.

He drove aimlessly around the Malibu hills, finally parking up on a lookout, the sun long set. He thought of Nik, closing his eyes and letting himself fall back onto the cushion of his memories.

Nikolai Urmanov had been a few years his senior, a Russian phenom whose career had ended far too soon because of a recurring wrist injury. He’d been living in the States for years, and when he couldn’t play the tour anymore, he had decided to stay and coach Luke.

Luke had won his four Grand Slam titles and was number one in the world for almost a year under Nik’s tutelage. The media had often remarked warmly upon their close friendship. The Russian who never had a chance to win big, guiding the young American to victory. They were a symbol of the end of the Cold War, a feel-good team that the public adored.

Luke thought of the taste of Nik’s lips, the warmth of his skin. He’d had a laugh that boomed out of his chest, and he’d laughed often. Even though his career hadn’t been the success he’d wanted, Nik didn’t dwell on it; he always looked to the future.

When Luke would get down about his game, Nik would always waggle his finger and say, “??? ?????? ????? ? ???,” which meant, “All roads lead to Rome.” Luke would always ask what the hell it was supposed to mean, and Nik would reply, “I don’t know, but I think either way, you’ll get there in the end.” It became a long-standing inside joke, and when Luke won his first Wimbledon, he’d quoted Nik in his victory speech—their own private riddle.

He smiled at the memory, and then felt a flush of shame for what had happened earlier with Jesse. He hadn’t been with anyone since Nik’s death, had rarely even been tempted. He’d just shut down emotionally, and no one had really caught his attention. Until now.

It had only been two years since Nik, and now Luke was…what? Moving on? Guilt surged through him, and he lunged for the door, barely making it to the ground before vomiting. Tears escaped his eyes after he emptied his stomach, and he gulped in the cool night air.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t just forget Nik. Taking a shaky breath, Luke got back in the SUV. He took a swig of warm water and a moment later realized it was Jesse’s bottle from earlier. Guilt tore at him anew and he shuddered.

He returned home hours later to find a note from his mother on the kitchen counter.

Darling,

I made your favorite: macaroni and cheese and chocolate cake for dessert. Please try to eat something. I know this is hard for you, but please remember that all I want is for you to be happy. You can talk to me anytime. I’ll always be ready to listen.

Love,

Mom

Luke folded up the letter and tucked it on top of the fridge. His mother knew. He felt like the whole world had just turned on its side, sending him spinning out of control. There was a tightness in his chest, and his stomach churned. She knew, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Nik was still gone. And there was sure as hell nothing Luke could do about that.

It was late, but he reached for the phone. It went to voicemail, and Luke left a message. “Jesse, it’s Luke. I think we’d better meet at Brookview tomorrow. Indian Wells is in a week and we could use Jeff’s help with training. See you at nine a.m.”

It would be better for both of them this way.

CHAPTER SIX

Jesse was already on court with Jeff when Luke arrived. They all said good morning, Jesse shooting Luke an anxious glance. Luke ignored it and suggested they get right to practice.

They played another team from the club, taking a quick lead. When they discussed strategy between points, Luke had a clipped, professional tone to his voice. Jesse mostly just nodded. Jeff shouted instructions from time to time, but overall, they were doing well.

They won the match, and Jeff told them to take five. Luke started working on his serve, willing Jesse to just leave him alone. He saw Jesse approach from the corner of his eye but continued serving.

“So, are you just going to pretend that yesterday didn’t happen?” Jesse’s voice was tight.

“Look, it was a mistake. I’m sorry, but it can’t happen again.” Luke threw a ball up and smashed it over the net.