Capello Brothers 3 Train My Heart by J'aimee Brooker Page B

retorted.
    "Vada via" his
father smiled back, the stench of whisky on his breath stinging
Luca as hard as his words, "how you say it… Get lost!"

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

    Luca woke from
an uneasy sleep; the temperature already stifling and the surrounds
of his old bedroom offering no respite from the onslaught of bad
memories that had been hitting him since arriving. Reaching into
his backpack, Luca pulled out his phone and switched it on hoping
to find a text from Imogen. Nothing, no signal, no reception, no
message and his heart sunk a little further.
    After their
shaky start, his father had invited him to stay albeit ensuring
that Luca was aware that he wasn't to get "too comfortable". Though
he'd been uncertain about staying given his father's abrasive
attitude and obvious drunkenness, Luca had reasoned that at almost
a foot taller and easily 50 kilograms heavier, he was more than
capable of holding his own if his father did lose his temper.
    He'd asked
after their mother and though Luca had glossed over the details,
his father still seemed annoyed at her ability to move on and
create a new and better life. Conversation had turned to Roman,
Dominic and himself and rather than his father being proud of what
they'd achieved, the positive news served only to infuriate him
further. His drunkenness hadn't helped and as his composure had
begun to slip and his abrasiveness became less tolerable, Luca had
feigned tiredness and hit the sack. His father turned in not long
afterward and Luca had listened as his cried himself to sleep.
    His fathers'
shout, "MI STAI OFFENDENDO!" broke Luca's train of thought
abruptly. You are offending me!
    The groceries
Luca thought to himself. He'd brought them inside yesterday but
given his father's inebriated state it was hardly a surprise that
he'd only now discovered them.
    "It's just
food" Luca called back, rising from his bed and reaching for a
t-shirt.
    "You think I
can't provide? Proprio come tua madre!" just like your
mother! came the bellowing response as his father barged
through the door and came face to chest with Luca. Taking a step
back, his father sized him up, his eyes taking inventory of Luca's
rippled torso and well defined shoulders and biceps before stepping
backwards from the room. "Non ho bisogno del tuo aiuto" I do not
need your help he hissed before turning his back to Luca and
disappearing into his bedroom.
     
     
     
    "Benvenuto"
came the warm welcome from the visitor standing on the front
landing juggling dishes and bowls of delicious smelling food.
"Italiano o Inglese?"
    "Entrambi" both Luca replied.
    "Aah, Inglese
is easier, yes?"
    "Yes. Are you
here to see my father?"
    "Your… father?"
she replied questioningly.
    Luca felt the
sting of disappointment; his father had never mentioned them to his
friends.
    "Margherita,
this is Luca" his father announced from behind.
    Stepping aside,
Luca welcomed the woman into the house unarming her of the dishes
that were now threatening to fall from her shaking arms.
    "Your son?" she
whispered again to his father.
    "Si, si" his
father replied, dismissively with a sweeping motion of his
hand.
    "You… you never
mentioned a son"
    "Three
actually, and an ex-wife that he probably hasn't mentioned either"
Luca chimed in, his temper suddenly taking over. "Why would you get
messed up with him anyway?"
    "Messed up…?"
she asked quietly, though as her eyes dropped to the floor Luca
realized she understood what he’d implied.
    "LUCA! Go!" his
father boomed, as he opened a cheap bottle of whisky and poured
himself a glass.
    Leaving the
house, Luca slammed the door closed as forcefully as he could
before hearing his father and Margherita begin arguing in such
heated, fast-paced Italian he didn't dare try to follow the
discussion.
     
     
     
    An hour later,
Luca heard Margherita's car leave the driveway and his father
calling his name. Let him wait Luca thought to himself and carried
on basking in the sun on an old deck chair he'd fixed up with