“Yeah.”
“Put her on,” Sandro snapped.
“Jeez, okay, relax.”
A second later, Olivia was on the line. “Sandro, I am so sorry. If I’d known Darcy made it sound like your father was on his deathbed, I would’ve called you right back.”
“Not your fault,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Do me a favor? Murder him for me.”
She cackled. “Gladly. Are you on your way here?”
“I was. But we’re turning around now that I know it’s just a sprained wrist. Fuck.” Coach Madolora hadn’t been happy about him making another trip home so close to the previous one, but he’d changed his tune once Sandro had told him about the accident.
The non-emergency accident, it turned out.
“We?” Olivia said. “Who’s we?”
Yeah, no. He was definitely not in the mood to go into detail about Bennett, so he thanked Olivia, said goodbye, and hung up.
Bennett, who’d heard him tell Olivia they were turning around, had exited the highway using the nearest off-ramp. Sandro’s heart ached looking at him, and now that the terror had receded, he could acknowledge what he hadn’t earlier.
Bennett hadn’t hesitated. He’d packed them a bag, looked up flights, and had jumped to the task of driving Sandro all the way to Tobermory without a second thought. Had Bennett called any of his own people to let them know he’d be away for a few days or had his concern been all for Sandro and everything else was a non-issue?
Bennett signaled to go left at the lights since it looked like that was the best way to get back on the highway going in the other direction, but Sandro waved him right as he called his dad. “Can you pull over?”
“Why?” Bennett asked, immediately on high alert. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Sandro said as the line rang and rang. “Just pull over when you can. The sign back there said there’s a McDonald’s this way. Did you let Fowler know where you were going?”
“I was going to do that when we stopped for gas.”
As Sandro had suspected, Bennett’s focus had been entirely on him.
His stomach doing somersaults, Sandro left a voicemail asking his dad to call him when he had a minute. Not that he didn’t believe Darcy and Olivia, but after the last two hours of dread, he needed to hear his dad’s voice for himself.
“Is this okay?” Bennett nodded at a bank coming up on their right. “I don’t know where the McDonald’s is, but you said to pull over as soon as I can. Or there’s a Tim Horton’s across the street if you’re hungry.”
“The bank’s fine,” Sandro said, and as soon as Bennett backed into a spot, he detached his seat belt and popped his door open. “Get out, B.”
“Are you okay?” Bennett asked again, scrambling out of the car as Sandro rounded the hood.
“B.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
Sandro kissed him, eliciting a muffled noise from Bennett’s throat. He could’ve done this in the car, but he wanted full-body contact, his hands in Bennett’s hair and Bennett’s hands on his ass.
Sandro kissed him again, softer, trying to convey thank you and I appreciate you and never go away again with his lips. Trying to make Bennett understand, without actually saying the words, that he was willing to risk it all again if Bennett felt the same.
Which he suspected he did.
Bennett kissed him back just as fiercely, his hands on Sandro’s ass just like he’d wanted. Sandro walked them backward until Bennett was up against the car, taking his mouth again and again with no thought to passersby.
Who cared about them anyway?
Cupping Bennett’s face, Sandro breathed a near-silent “Thank you” against his lips.
“What for?” Bennett panted.
