It was stupid. Maybe selfish. Maybe it was an excuse. But it also felt like a lifeline.
She lay flat on her bed, thumb hovering over his name.
He had Board Night. She shouldn’t bother him. And yet, she needed to talk to him. Maybe it was late enough that they had already gone home. He had mentioned Leif, Asma and two French rugby players she had met at the Olympics—Sebastian and Omar. She remembered them and she felt the world was extremely tiny sometimes.
She pressed his name and waited.
“Hello? You’re talking to the champion of Board Night.”
His voice was pure cheer, smug and familiar.
Alejandra let out a small laugh. “Yes, I was definitely looking for him.”
His low chuckle vibrated through the phone and down her spine.Joder.She wanted him. His voice, his touch, his goddamn calm. Being with him made her feel like she could breathe again. Which terrified her. No man had ever had this power over her. What did it mean that her happiness was somehow linked to a person and not the thrill of surfing?
“How was your day? What did the doctor say? Are you sling-free now?”
He fired the questions before she could even have time to explain the reason why she had called.
“I am.” She smiled softly, fond of how worried he sounded. Gosh, this man was too good to be true. Hot and emotionally available, comfortable in his masculinity and femininity. She was fucking screwed. “She said I’m recovering well…”
“But?”
God, how did he always know?
“She thinks my injury is more than just physical. That I might have… trauma,” she admitted, the word catching in her throat. Saying it out loud after having spent the entire day thinking about them scared her. “And if I don’t work through it, I might lose more than just shoulder mobility.”
There was a pause. A deep, understanding silence.
“Makes sense,” he said finally. “Did she give you options?”
“She gave me a therapist’s name.”
“Are you going to contact them?”
“I—I think so…but I don’t want to worry my family. So, I haven’t truly said anything to them yet.” Her voice was almost a whisper, scared that Carlos could eavesdrop.
“It’s just a decision you have to make, Alejandra. Nobody can make it for you.”
She nodded, her eyes now drifting to the crumpled piece of paper.
“She’s in London.”
A pause. “How convenient,” he said with a grin in his voice. “There’s a bed here warmed by a Welsh guy, just waiting for you.”
She bit back a smile. “Yes, very convenient. But…”Here it comes.“I don’t want to crash your life, Callum. I’m not at my best. I’ll need a good recovery center. I don’t want to show up and just take over everything.”
“Alejandra,” he said gently. “You wouldn’t be crashing my life. You already did that, cariad.”
Her heart stuttered at that word. That damn accent. The soft way he said it.
“But I am worried,” she whispered. Almost scared to voice out her inner demons. “I’m scared I’m using you. That I’m clinging to you just to avoid how I actually feel. When I’m with you, it’s like everything gets lighter, like I’m not drowning. But I don’t know if that’s healthy. You make me feel good, and not just the sex.”
“Which is great,” he cut in, teasing.
“Yeah,” she admitted, smiling despite herself. “Which is great. But I don’t want to be this ego-driven, hyper-focused athlete who bulldozes through people. I don’t want to do that to you.”
“You’re not doing that,” he added, firm. “You’re not crashing into me. You’re not using me. Iwantyou here. I want to help, Alejandra. You’re not alone in this.”
