Page 63 of Cross Checking

“We all talked a lot about how well you’re playing for Alvik so far,” Grandma starts, “but are you glad to be home?”

“Yeah, I’m doing well, no complaints,” I reply. The candles on the dining table are burning low, casting a dim orange light across the room. “It’s good to be back in Stockholm.”

There’s a peaceful silence in the house, which is when Eva decides to come back.

“Oh, hey, I didn’t expect anyone to still be up,” she says, taking her shoes off. “Hi, Erik.” Eva comes up to hug me, and I get a whiff of bonfire smoke and vodka that she doesn’t even try to hide. She mumbles a quiet greeting to our grandparents before slinking upstairs for a shower.

“Lilian told me that she saw Magnus and Eva holding hands earlier today,” Grandma says, referring to Magnus’s grandmother.

I chuckle. “Oh, what a scandalous moment between two sixteen-year-olds.”

My grandparents laugh amongst themselves before turning their attention back to me.

“What about you, Erik?” Grandma asks. “Is there a special guy in your life?”

Oh, god. Here we go.“Nope, nobody.”

Grandpa finishes his wine. “Hopefully you’ll have more to share about him the next time you visit.”

I tilt my head.

“The three times you checked your phone tonight, you were beaming from ear to ear. We simply assumed.” Grandma smiles at me, and I blush.

Why am I so bad at this?

“It was nothing, just a teammate sending me memes,” I say, thinking about how to divert the conversation. “I’m still single. Focusing on the game for now.” That’s technically the truth.

Grandpa hums, telling me that he’s nowhere near convinced. “Let’s not push anything tonight. I’m tired, and I’m off to bed.”

“Good idea,” Grandma says, standing up. “Erik, have a nightcap. Make the most of your short break.” She pours the remainder of the mulled wine into my cup before heading upstairs.

I’m left alone, and I blow out the candles before limping to the furnished shed in the backyard where I always stay when I’m over here. Amazingly, I manage to make it without spilling a single drop.

After lighting a fire, I let the shed thaw a bit before stripping and taking a shower in the ensuite. I climb into bed afterward and pull out my phone to find no new messages from Luke.

We texted back and forth throughout the day, but he was driving to his grandparents’ house in Vermont, so our communication was mostly sporadic.

I’m drunk, I miss Luke, and he’s online, so I call him.

He picks up seconds later. “Hey! Thought you’d be asleep by now,” he says, his grin radiating through the screen.

I snicker into my phone. “I’m at my grandparents’ house and I’m so drunk.”

“That’s cool, I’m also at my grandparents’ house, and I’m…” Luke pretends to think for a second. “I’m on the way to getting drunk.”

I scratch my face, and Luke releases a breath.

“Damn,” he says, dragging out the word. “I can’t get over how good you look with a beard.”

This isn’t the first time he’s told me, but I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it. “Really? It isn’t messy?”

“Hell no. It’s hot.”

Trying to cool myself down from the compliment, I take a sip of the freakishly strong mulled wine. It doesn’t work, and my face flushes even more.

“What’s that?” Luke asks.

“It’s glögg. Mulled wine. My grandparents spiked it with a ton of liquor, so it’s mostly brandy.” Luke has an intrigued expression on, so I continue. “It’s so good. Nice and sweet and it tastes like Christmas.”

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