Page 77 of Playing to Win

“My daughter learned every word she knows from her big brother.” Dad took a step toward the door, then turned back and pulled Colin into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Nae bother,” Colin tried to reply, but the words came out as a hiccup. Holding his dad close, he opened his eyes wide to keep them dry.

For now, at least. Later, someday, he would cry about this. But today he had to be strong—for his family, his team, and especially himself.

= = =

Andrew gave a happy sigh when he spotted the island of Kara Ada silhouetted against a deepening blue sky, surrounded by an Aegean Sea doused in flaming sunset colors. It wasn’t only the gorgeous sight that pleased him, but also the fact he once again had internet access.

He slid a glance over his shoulder to see if his family was watching, but they were all in the yacht’s aft deck finishing their baklava and Turkish coffee. So he quickly powered up his phone. The Greek islands of Rhodes and Kos had been beautiful as always, but the gulet-holiday tour provided WiFi only within Turkish waters.

The message from Colin he’d hoped for was in his Wickr inbox:

Don’t forget canvassing in the Drum on Sunday. Meet me outside the towers at noon in your best slumming clothes.

Andrew cursed when he saw the text had been sent yesterday. He’d warned Colin of his spotty internet access, but considering the rough week his lover was having back in Glasgow, he might have forgotten and thought Andrew was ignoring him.

Seeing he had three bars of mobile service, he rang Colin immediately.

“Hiya,” he answered in a voice that made Andrew’s toes curl within his Top-Siders.

“Hello. I thought it’d be quicker to phone.”

“You just wanted to hear my voice, didn’t you?”

“Your voice is the only thing which could make me hate this scenery.” Leaning on the gulet’s polished mahogany railing, Andrew gazed at what was still, even with the fiery sunset, the bluest sea and sky in the world. His heart ached for Colin to be here now to see it with him. “That and the fact my family are the worst.”

“Shocker.”

“I was so looking forward to spending time with my nieces and nephews, as I rarely get to see them. But in the last year they’ve become insufferable.” He cringed as a pair of shrieks behind him proved his point. “What can one expect, though, when they’re boarding at Glenalmond instead of Fettes?”

“So different prep schools produce different levels of prickishness?”

“Precisely.” God, he missed this lad. The banter among Andrew’s family was just as lively, but it left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Have you been on Twitter today?” Colin asked.

“No, I’ve been offline for an unspeakable number of hours. Why?”

Colin hesitated. “Erm, nothing. Just wondering if you’d heard from your stalker. I know you’re probably safe out in the middle of the sea, but I still worry.”

Andrew softened at Colin’s concern. “Thank you. No, the internet seems blissfully quiet, as per usual this time of year. And so far no seagulls have shat the words ‘fascist faggot’ onto the deck of the gulet.”

Colin made a gruff noise. “I wish you’d stop joking about the fact someone hates you enough to chuck a rock through your window.”

“I don’t know what else to do.” Andrew gripped the yacht’s railing, feeling his mood dip at the thought of his mystery stalker. “How was your match today?”

“It was a belter.” Colin proceeded to break down the Warriors’ first-round victory in the Scottish Amateur Cup. Last season’s tournament had ended for them in a quarterfinal heartbreak that left them gutted for weeks. Andrew knew the Cup meant as much to the team as winning the league, if not more. Their success in it meant they could go toe-to-toe with the best straight clubs, at every level of play.

“I wish I could have been there,” Andrew said when Colin finished. “Perhaps I’ll delay my trip to London Fashion Week so I can see your league match next Saturday.”

“Yeah?” Colin said in a high-pitched voice, then coughed. “I mean, sure, whatever. If you want.”

“Now that you’re a pinup boy, I need to fend off your throngs of admirers.”

Colin groaned. “Christ, the photo shoot.”

Andrew laughed, knowing how nervous Colin had been about posing for the Warriors 2015 calendar, which would raise money for John Burns’s charity for LGBT asylum seekers. “How was it?”

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