Messages flooded my phone faster than I could clear them. Interviews. Sponsors. Teammates. Reporters.
I stopped reading any of it.
When the room got too quiet, I scrolled on my phone for my favorite playlist, and music made its way into every corner, low and slow, while I paced barefoot between the bed and the window trying unsuccessfully to settle. Luka would come eventually. I knew he would.
The knock came after midnight, and my pulse jumped instantly. I crossed the room barefoot and opened the door, just as ‘Glory Box’ began playing.
Luka stood in the corridor, his gaze darting from side to side.
He’d changed out of his federation gear into dark jeans and a charcoal sweater. The scent of shower gel and shampoo still clung to him.
Then he smiled, and I swear, my insides turned to mush.
“Hi.” I tugged him into the room and closed the door. His face was glowing, his eyes bright.
“I love this song,” I admitted, suddenly aware of the bass line threading through the speakers.
Luka tilted his head, listening. “It suits you.” Then he looked me in the eye. “You did it,” he said simply.
The words carried so much naked pride they made my chest constrict.
Before I could reply, he wrapped his arms around me, the force of the embrace pushing me backward half a step into the room, holding me tightly enough that I could feel the uneven rhythm of his breathing against my neck.
It had been less than a day, butGod, I had missed him.
I slid my hands beneath the back of Luka’s sweater, holding him closer.
“You were incredible tonight,” he murmured against my shoulder.
I laughed. “I think you might be biased.”
“No.” He pulled back enough to look at me properly, and his expression of fierce joy made my chest ache. “Dean… you were extraordinary.”
The sincerity in his voice ripped something open inside me.
Then Luka’s gaze went to the nightstand, his expression morphing into what looked like wonder.
“Can I?”
I picked up the medal and placed it into his hand.
Luka stared at it, brushing his thumb slowly across the engraved surface.
“You know,youcould have one of these by Monday,” I told him.
He smiled. “That is the plan.” He handed the medal back, our fingers brushing in the exchange. “You deserve this.”
I set the medal down on the nightstand without taking my eyes off him.
“So do you.”
I touched his face, my thumb brushing along his jaw. Luka closed his eyes at the contact, and he stayed there a second longer than he normally would.
“You don’t have to do that with me,” I said in a low voice.
His eyes opened again. “Do what?”
“Pretend you’re okay when you’re not.”
