Page 20 of A Loser by Christmas
“Yeah.” He shakes out his shirt. “Got an early start out of town.” He buttons it, hiding dark gold chest hair, more’s the pity. And all those bruises, thank goodness. Calum pauses midway through pulling on his trousers. “What did you mean you won’t have time to finish your entry?”
I tell him more than I’d admit to anyone else, but I guess that’s only fair after everything he told me. “Because it’s about a hero I once followed.”
He guesses and scores a bullseye. “Reece?”
I nod. “Even if Dad did give me time off, my chances of finding someone else as heroic are slim. I’ll have to pad out what I’ve already got with B-roll. Add in some rich execs having test drives as a contrast to him. I just hope to fuck I get the time to do itandedit. Sucks that the timing clashes with this show.”
“When is your entry due?”
“The same day the show closes.” Right now, two weeks doesn’t seem anywhere near enough time to do it. I square my jaw. “I’ll make it happen.”
Calum is dressed now, but like outside that Kensington restaurant, he doesn’t leave me right away. He comes back to crouch beside my bunk. Our heads are on the same level, and I don’t know what I expected. It wasn’t for him to gather up my rumpled blankets, or for him to tuck them this carefully around me.
“You keep that egg warm,” he says while doing the same thing for me. What Calum doesn’t do is make my life easy by promising to buy a boat by midnight, and maybe I should be gutted at a potential escape route fizzling. I might have been if he didn’t lean in for a kiss lasting for so long his murmur is breathless. “And don’t give up. Keep fighting for what you need, yeah?”
I nod. I will. “You too.”
He nods back. Calum touches my jaw one last time, our quiet moment of connection only ending when he stands. He holds out a fist. “Keep being the worst person on the planet, Juno.”
I bump it. “Just as long as you keep putting theHoin hockey.”
The cabin hatch closing behind him cuts off his laughter, and I pull the blankets even closer.
Sleep takes a while to come in a cabin lit by an incubator.
La Sylvierocks both me and a duck egg gently.
She rocks a whole lot harder early the next morning.
I crack an eye open to daylight, and to another Christmas miracle from Dad—he actually sounds happy. “Oh, Valentin,” he yodels outside. “I need you.”
I dress quickly and emerge to see him point across the marina at someone who hasn’t given up on a Christmas miracle of his own. “And I need you, Lancaster.” For a big guy who usually lumbers, Dad can be fast on his feet with the right incentive. He tugs me along the mooring to meet a perpetually hopeful Harry.
“You need me, Mr. Juno?”
“Yes. I need both of you.” Dad slings a heavy arm across our shoulders, but he aims this at me. “Now, about the little trick you played last night. You two switched places.”
“How did you?—”
“Know?” Dad snorts. “You think I can’t tell the difference between a decent pilot and an exceptional one?”
His arm around me tightens to signal he means me. That’s unexpected, a gift almost making up for the one I all but let Calum off the hook for.
Dad booms at Harry. “There’s nothing wrong with your piloting, but I’d know my son on the water anytime, anywhere, night or day.” He lets Harry go, his hold on me unrelenting. “Andyoushould have told me why you disappeared for half of last night’s party.”
I flashback to kissing in a shadowed alley. To Calum’s face fractured by firework explosions. To faded bruises and quiet confessions that only told half a story.
Dad mentions other aspects. “Like telling me you came up with a new sales strategy.”
“I did?”
“Yes! You targeted a completely different market.” He makes my spur-of-the-moment decision to chase after Calum sound deliberate. “Genius thinking to woo a sportsman. Even betterthat you picked a Trelawney after the boat loan we made to his brother a while ago.” He drops a final truth bomb. “Because that’s what Calum Trelawney has ordered. A replacement speedboat for his brother, fully kitted out for marine rescues.”
“He made an order?” My heart stutters. “When? Before midnight or after?”
Dad’s gaze drifts away like my hopes of repairs. “After.” His gaze drifts back, not quite meeting mine. “You came so close, Valentin. So, so close.” He clears his throat. “But good for you for trying to rise to the challenge. I’ll get to your repairssooner or later.” I’d be bitter about coming so near yet so far if Dad didn’t add, “Trelawney’s order does come with one condition, which is why I need both you and Lancaster.”
“Because?”
