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LUKE

I can do this. I can put on a brave face for my parents and spend an evening at their house without spiraling. All I have to do is not think about how fucked my situation is with Erik and how I’m grasping at straws, trying to apply for any job that’s based out of one of our Swedish offices.

He flew to Minnesota today and crashed as soon as he got to camp, so we didn’t have a chance to talk.

“So, Luke,” Dad says, handing me a beer and leaning against the kitchen counter. “How are things with Erik?”

Damnit.

“Uh, we’re fine,” I reply, lying through my teeth.

“You’ve always been a shitty liar. What’s going on?”

“Who says I’m a bad liar?”

“Says everyone. That’s how you got caught those two times you tried drinking in high school.”

Only two times? Yeah, no. I’m a better liar than you give me credit for.

He continues. “Anyway, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing and everything,” I groan. “My company won’t let me move to Sweden on a one-year visa, even though Erik says he’ll help me stay permanently after I arrive, and I can’t find a job that’ll sponsor me.”

“Maybe Toronto will want him back?”

I scoff. “At the NHL level? Nah. I’d love that, but Toronto needs to scout some scouts first.”

“Come again?”

“They haven’t managed to poach anyone from another professional league in three years,” I deadpan.

Dad nods. “That’s fair. So if he can’t move here, then what?”

“Then I’ll go to Sweden with no plan and no job.” I don’t give Dad a chance to tell me that I’m out of my mind. “That’s a terrible idea—I know, and Erik says so as well, but I’m so frustrated. I feel like I’m stagnating here.”

“Stagnating? How so?”

“Every day feels the exact same, and I have no consistent social life to speak of, other than when my friends visit.” I plop myself down onto a barstool. “I just want to live somewhere else.”

“You’re twenty-two, Luke. There’s no better time than now.”

“I guess so. Hell, I’d settle for anywhere in Europe at this point, and then at least I could see Erik more often.”

Dad raises his eyebrows. “Europe? Have you given any thought to France?”

“France is in Europe, so yeah, I guess I have. I don’t think they give out visas for speaking their language, though.”

There’s a brief pause as Dad purses his lips. “You know Grandma was French, right?”

“Yeah, you grew up in Montreal.”

Dad’s expression turns serious. “No. She was French. As in from France, not French-Canadian.” And? “There’s a visa that lets people with French ancestry establish permanent residence in France.”

Gears turn in my head. Permanent residence in France. France is closer to Sweden. If I can’t live in Sweden, I’ll live in France and fly to Sweden whenever I can.

It isn’t much, but it sure is something . And I won’t have to get another job, either. As much as my company is weird as hell, I don’t want to let go of that New York salary.

I clasp my hands together. “Consider me intrigued.”

“So,” Dad says, “England has something called an Ancestry Visa, which lets the descendants of citizens get some kind of residence there.”

“And you think France has the same kind of thing?”

He nods. “I know so. One of my childhood friends did something like that a while back and he lives over on Corsica now.”

“Awesome, I’ll do some research.”

“That’s not the right approach,” Dad says, frowning. “France is the most bureaucratic country on earth, so you’ll end up going in circles trying to find information.”

“Okay, what should I do instead?”

“Take all your documents to the consulate, tell them what you want, and don’t leave until they give you information. That’s what Grandma had to do. I think France canceled her citizenship, and mine too, since I was still young, but she was still born there. You should be eligible.”

“Can I take Grandma’s documents with me when I go home tonight?”

Dad shrugs. “Sure, I’ll throw in my birth certificate and my old passports, too. Again: dump everything onto the counter when you get to the front of the line, and they’ll tell you what to do.”

“Awesome, thanks.”

Dad and I shake hands, and Mom walks in.

“Am I interrupting the transfer of our retirement fund to Luke or something?” she asks, letting out a laugh. “This looks like a weird kind of business deal.”

I chuckle. “Nah. Dad is just giving me documents so that I can move to France.”

Mom blinks. “Okay, you need to back up. France?”

The next morning, I wake up bright and early to tell Ajay that I’m taking the afternoon off for a consulate appointment, even though I don’t technically have an appointment. He sends me a thumbs up emoji and a message telling me to take tomorrow off, too.

A text comes through from Erik, and I grab my phone.

Erik Norberg

Good morning :)

Just finished breakfast and I have some time before camp starts

Morning! How’s the camp?

Decent

Free to call?

I hit that call button like it’s a lifeline. There hasn’t been a chance to tell Erik about the latest developments, so I’ll do it now.

“Hey, Lukey,” he says, and I break into a grin as soon as his video pops up. He’s shaved, and even though I loved the facial hair, I still want to run my mouth along his jaw.

Holy hell, Erik is breathtaking, and I have to snap myself back to reality.

“Hey, hot stuff, how’s Minnesota treating you?”

“Pretty good. We’re right by the airport so there’s a plane landing every other minute. I have earplugs, though.”

“Nice!” I pause, considering how to share the news with Erik, before I decide to say it straight up. “By the way, I have some new moving updates.”

“Oh yeah?”

“So basically, I found out that I can get a permanent visa for France, and I might go there to be closer to you while still keeping my job.”

The way Erik’s face falls all but erases the last traces of my excitement.