Page 23 of Cross Checking (Off the Bench #2)
ERIK
What do sailors say when they finally see the shore after months and months at sea?
Land ahoy? I’d get stared down by everyone else on this boat if I yelled that out loud, but the temptation is there.
At least the winter break in the SHL is two weeks long.
That’s something new the union got for us this season, and I joined at the right time.
Every year, my family spends Christmas at my grandparents’ house on the island of Gotland, and this is the first time in years that I’m traveling from Stockholm.
Before, when I visited over the AHL off-season, I’d get a quick connecting flight, which can’t justify now that I live in Stockholm.
Even if the ferry takes three and a half hours.
The first few steps on dry land are shaky, either from the rocking boat, taking a slapshot to my thigh during last night’s game, or both. I make my slow, unsteady way to the front of the terminal where my dad is waiting to pick me up.
“Hey there, Erik,” he says. Dad grabs my bag from me and puts it in the trunk. “That was some game last night.”
I huff. “Yeah, I got mangled into a pulp. I can barely walk.”
“Well, you won’t have to walk anywhere for a while. Your grandparents have a fully stocked house and a new mobility scooter that they never use.” He laughs, climbing into the driver’s seat while I ease myself into the other side of the car.
“Everything hurts,” I mutter.
Dad starts the car and claps me on the shoulder. “If you take anything for the pain, make sure it’s ibuprofen. You’re about to walk into a house full of alcohol.” He reverses and steers us onto the road. “Your grandparents both decided to prank each other by spiking the mulled wine. Separately.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, it’s half brandy, but from what I hear, it still tastes good. I can’t wait.”
The drive from the ferry terminal doesn’t take long, and I’m walking into my grandparents’ cozy, warm home and getting swarmed by relatives before I know it.
“Erik!”
“You finally made it!”
“Sit down! Rest your leg!”
“How are you walking after that game last night?”
“Have some wine!”
Less than two minutes after arriving, I’m seated on a plush sofa, a mug of lethally strong mulled wine in one hand and a plate of food in the other.
Man, I love visiting my family.
We’re having a casual dinner, with everyone scattered around the kitchen, the dining area, and the living room. Most of my dad’s side of the family is here, except for my sister.
“Where’s Eva?” I ask.
Mom shrugs. “She’s hanging out with Magnus and her other friends from around here,” she says. “We didn’t want to subject her to spending the whole day with us oldies.”
Ah, Magnus. There’s something obvious going on between him and Eva, but they haven’t confirmed it, and we leave them alone.
Because of Eva’s absence, I’m the youngest person here. I arrived quite late, and it doesn’t take long before everyone heads upstairs to sleep. An hour or so later, just past eleven, it’s only me and my grandparents left downstairs.
“A bunch of weaklings, the lot of them,” Grandma says.
I choke on my wine. “That’s a bit harsh, no?”
Grandpa shrugs. “We’re old and you got beat up yesterday, yet we’re the ones who held out.”
That’s an argument I can’t counter, so I nod.
“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 glogg. 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.”
“That’s special to Sweden, right?”
“Yeah, it’s unmatched. Here, I’ll send you a recipe,” I offer. “It’s been in the family for years, so don’t share it around.”
“Really?”
I send him the first glogg recipe I find on the internet. “No, it’s from a supermarket blog. A glogg blog.”
Ha. That almost rhymes.
“Hmm, glogg,” he says. His voice floats over the sounds, slow and deliberate as he tries to mimic my pronunciation. “I want to glogg on your dick.”
I snort and angle my phone down, flicking at the waistband of my sweatpants. “Of course you do. Wanna see it?” I ask. I can always trust Luke to flip from sweet to horny in an instant. Pretty convenient, if you ask me, at least for satisfying certain cravings.
Horny cravings. My emotional cravings are nowhere near sated—what Luke and I are doing helps to tamp them down a little, and I’m happy to spend time with him, at least.
Even if that’s not the healthiest thing in the world, it makes me feel good. That’s what counts, right?
Luke inhales sharply, biting his lip and smiling. “I’m tempted, but my family could get back at any second.”
“Damn. I’m horny as hell,” I joke.
“Dude, when are you not ?”
When I can’t see you?
“There’s a thirty-minute window right after I nut. If you blink, you’ll miss it.”
Luke lets out an adorable laugh, one that makes my heart clench, but he falls into silence.
“Anyway, I’m gonna go to sleep soon,” I say. “Just wanted to catch up since you were on the road today.”
“That’s really nice of you.” He pauses. “You look so cozy there.”
“For sure, my grandparents went all-out when they renovated this house. It’s a lot nicer than my apartment, that’s for sure.”
Luke frowns. “Nah, I don’t know about that. I get cozy vibes wherever you call me from.”
“Even from our road trip hotels?”
“Those too. Maybe it’s a Sweden thing. Coziness.”
A gale from the sea howls outside and beats against the walls of the shed, invalidating his theory.
“I’m not so sure about that,” I say. “It’s so cold here.”
Luke brushes me off. “Nah. Can’t be that bad, can it?”
“You should visit me and see for yourself.”
What the?—
Why did I have to go there? Sure, I’d love it if he came here, but asking him is so clingy .
“That’d be sick. I’ve never been to Sweden,” he says.
Okay, he isn’t running for the hills, so this is salvageable, maybe with a joke. “I bought the cheapest sofa I could find, so you’ll have a place to crash.”
“How generous of you.”
If Luke visits, he might never leave my bed, but I don’t tell him that. It might be too far.
My phone beeps, giving me an out, and I read the notification. “It’s midnight here, so now it’s officially Christmas Eve.”
Luke’s face brightens. “Oh, that’s nice! You guys do most of your celebrating on the twenty-fourth, right?”
My chest warms as soon as Luke says that. He’s right, and that means he probably looked it up. “Yeah, we do,” I say, yawning.
“Well, you seem pretty tired, so I won’t keep you up. Merry Christmas, Erik.”
He smiles, and it’s probably my mind playing tricks on me, but the phone heats up in my hands as soon as he does.
“Merry Christmas, Luke.” I rack my brain for something to say next. “Take care.”
The screen goes black, and I let my arms collapse onto my chest, clutching the phone close to me.
I reach over and flick the bedside lamp off, and for a few minutes, I let myself lie there in the darkness, kept toasty by the wool blanket and the fading high that I always get after a call with Luke.
Today, though, it’s a lot more intense than usual.
The holidays always make me nostalgic and a little emotional. That’s got to be it, right?