Page 60 of Tough Call

As the train pulled out of the station, I asked, “So did Lena ever apologize for making you and Michael scramble to her wedding?”

Connor scowled. “No. And Michael’s team got eliminated in the third round, so he had a little more time. Some of us had to work through the end of the finals.” Then he grinned. “But I kept threatening to bribe the maid of honor to mention the Bentley in her speech, and Lena looked nervous as hell when she got up to speak, so… I’d say we’re even.”

I laughed. “Did anyone say anything about it?”

“Nah. I don’t give her shit about it within earshot of my dad.” He grimaced. “I think he’s still mad about it.”

“Oh, yeah, you said you thought you might still be grounded, didn’t you?”

“Mmhmm. He’s going to be a hundred years old and still holding a grudge about that.”

“Okay, but, to be fair…” I spread my palms. “You did total his Bentley.”

“Well… not on purpose!”

“Oh, well, since it wasn’t on purpose, I’m sure the dents just popped right out.”

Connor chuckled. “The dents weren’t the problem. The water damage…” He grimaced again.

“Jesus Christ.” I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m surprised he ever let you drive anything again.”

“I know, right? He told me the only reason he did was because I needed to be able to drive in order to eventually move out of his house, and if I didn’t, he’d probably kill me.”

I barked a laugh. Truthfully, Stuart Ellis had been upset about his car, but he’d also been obviously relieved that his son was all right. Angry? Sure. Grounding him until the sun burned out? Definitely. But I was at the house the night he got the call, and I still vividly remembered the look on his face and how he’d damn near sprinted for the garage to head to the scene.

He’d never been thrilled to see his Continental GT being pulled out of a lake on a winch. He’d been crushed to realize his beloved car was a complete loss.

But the car hadn’t been completely submerged. Connor and his friend had been able to get out, and though they’d been wet, cold, and shaken up, they’d been all right. There was camera footage of Stuart arriving at the scene and realizing both boys were all right, and he’d nearly broken down in tears as he’d crushed Connor in a hug. I think everyone in the house had been relieved beyond words when Stuart had shifted to lecturing and punishing Connor for driving too fast on that winding road; that was when we all knew for sure that everyone was okay. When he could focus on that, the fear and panic had passed, and everyone could breathe again.

Well, everyone except Connor. He’d felt terrible for wrecking the car, and he’d been almost inconsolable because his friend could’ve been hurt or killed. I’d never seen him so shaken up before, and I’d played like shit in my next two games because I was so damn worried about him.

I was glad he and his siblings could joke about it now. Keeping the jokes out of their dad’s earshot—probably a wise idea.

As the train continued out of Madrid and into the open countryside, Connor watched the scenery going by while I watched him. I still couldn’t believe we were here. That we had most of the summer to be together. A few times in the weeks leading up to this, I’d worried we were diving in too deep. That we’d only had sporadic face-to-face conversations in Prague and a whole lot of texting and FaceTiming since then. Back when we’d lived together, we were apart more often than not too, since I was constantly traveling for hockey and we’d both had school. Then there’d been a decade of just… not being involved in each other’s lives.

Was the spark we’d found in Prague really something we could sustain through a long visit?

Sitting here with him now, all my doubts scattered. Connor had always been a calm spot in my world. With him, I could breathe. I’d been able to be myself—a gay kid instead of a hockey player shouldering tons of pressure—because that was all Connor had ever asked of me. He’d just wanted the quiet honesty that came with two teenagers figuring out who they were, and being with him—whether in bed or just chilling front of a movie—had been exactly what I’d needed to let my ears stop ringing from the noise of hockey.

On this train, watching him take in the scenery, that calm settled over me now. Free agency felt distant and abstract. Teams and contracts and professional pressure were a million miles away. I wasn’t representing Genève or Team Latvia.

I was just here. With him.

And everything in my world was perfect.

Finally, we were in Sevilla, and I was parking our rental car in front of the villa that would be home for the next few weeks.

“Holy shit,” Connor said when we got out of the car. “You said it was big, but it’s… Jesus. That’s huge!”

“That’s what she said.”

That earned me an eyeroll, and I laughed as Connor shook his head.

He was right, too—the place was huge. It was a three-bedroom stucco house with a pool and an enormous garden, all within a high stone wall. Inside, the house was cool thanks to the soaring ceilings and the gray marble floors.

I closed the door behind us and looked at Connor. “You want the grand tour?”

“Eventually.” Connor put his backpack down, then grabbed my belt and tugged me in close. “There’s only one room I want to see right now.”