“And what did she reply?”
“She rejected me, Ale. Were you not listening?”
“Through the groans? Almost impossible.”
Carlos flipped her off and collapsed onto the couch next to her again.
“I’m sorry,” she said more gently this time. “But what did she actually say?”
“She said that she was not interested. That she was sorry. And then she left.” His jaw tightened. “And I am so fucking glad you injured yourself so I do not have to see her ever again.”
“I will go back to competing,” Alejandra reminded him carefully.
“You will find another trainer. I will just hide myself out here for the rest of my life. I will never hear the end of it from Ilias.”
“Do you think she told him?” Alejandra scrunched her nose. “She does not usually share that kind of information with him.”
“I would rather not know.”
Alejandra patted his shoulder again.
“Maybe this could be the opportunity to stop pining over her and find somebody else who actually cares about you.”
Carlos nodded slowly. “As if it was that easy.”
“I am sorry, Carlos. For real.”
She did not like seeing her brother like that.
“Do you want a hug?” she asked.
He nodded. They stayed like that for quite some time, sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around each other in silence.
Heartbreak was not something she was unfamiliar with.
Her heart had been broken too many times over the years, and when her mind drifted to Callum, somehow she was scared that would be the case again.
He was always busy with his job.
She was injured, but eventually she would return to her routine—even if it took months, or years.
She could go back to surfing, if the fear of what had happened that day eventually faded. And then what? How could they live a happy life with him seated in an office in Londonwhile she played with death riding waves somewhere around the world?
She had no idea. She had absolutely no idea how that relationship could possibly work. And for the time being, she would rather deal with one problem at a time.
32
CALLUM
Maybe Tomorrow - Stereophonics
Numbers and migrainehad become his worst nightmare, and his constant companion. They pulsed together, relentless. He really didn’t care about the latest greenwashing case they’d encountered, or the last meeting in which Asma had excitedly announced they’d won yet another lawsuit. He couldn’t bring himself to feel anything close to happiness, because that office in London was slowly, methodically sucking the life out of him.
His only spark of happiness was Alejandra, chatting with him whenever he wasn’t stuck in front of a computer screen—answering emails, filing cases, filling spreadsheets—or trapped in the middle of yet another meeting that could have been an email.
Every night since Ericeira, Alejandra and Callum had shared texts, and sometimes even late-night calls. The no contact phase had disappeared, mostly because he’d all but begged her to end it, and she had complied. Probably because makingher come in a wooden stall during the USL finals, right before she spiraled into darkness, had proved to be an effective method.
He still dreamt about her kneeling in front of him, his cock in her mouth, her green eyes locked on his as he came. He could barely stand thinking about it without getting hard.
