The Valdez Name

Chapter Six — The Valdez Name

The tournament took a break for the weekend.

For the first time in weeks, there was no early-morning practice, no crowded locker room, no screaming coaches, and—most importantly—no Beck Hayes.

Aitor should have been relieved.

Instead, the silence followed him home.

The Valdez family estate stood behind enormous iron gates at the end of a long private drive.

Aitor had grown up here.

He knew every turn in the driveway. Every tree. Every window that looked out over the gardens. Every room where family arguments had taken place behind closed doors.

From the outside, it was beautiful.

Perfect, even.

The kind of house people slowed down to look at.

Aitor stepped out of the car and adjusted the strap of his bag.

A housekeeper opened the front door before he reached it.

“Welcome home, Mr. Valdez.”

“Thank you.”

He walked inside.

The foyer was exactly as he remembered it.

Marble floors.

Tall ceilings.

Paintings that had been in the family for generations.

Flowers arranged perfectly on a table nobody was allowed to touch.

His mother appeared at the top of the staircase.

“Aitor.”

He looked up.

“Hi, Mom.”

She smiled.

“You're home.”

“For the break.”

“I know.”

She descended the stairs and kissed his cheek.

“How is hockey?”

“Good.”

“Just good?”

“We're still in the tournament.”

“I know.”

She reached for his arm.

“Your father wants to see you.”

Aitor's smile disappeared.

“Now?”

“He's in his study.”

Of course he was.

Aitor nodded.

“I'll go.”

His mother watched him walk away.

“Aitor?”

He turned.

“Change first.”

He looked down at his clothes.

“You're going to meet your father looking like that?”

Aitor glanced at his hoodie.

“It's just my clothes.”

His mother's smile faded slightly.

“You know how your father feels about appearances.”

Aitor said nothing.

He turned and walked upstairs.

His father's study was always cold.

Not literally.

The room was warm enough.

But everything about it felt cold.

The dark wooden shelves.

The enormous desk.

The framed photographs.

His father's awards.

Family portraits.

Generations of Valdezes staring down from the walls.

Aitor knocked.

“Come in.”

He opened the door.

His father didn't look up immediately.

“You're back.”

“Yes.”

“How long is the break?”

“Three days.”

His father finally looked at him.

“And the tournament?”

“We're still competing.”

“Are you winning?”

“We're doing well.”

“Doing well isn't winning.”

Aitor swallowed.

“I know.”

His father leaned back.

“How's school?”

“Fine.”

“Your grades?”

“Good.”

“Your coach?”

“Good.”

His father nodded.

Then came the question Aitor already knew was coming.

“And Sofia?”

Aitor's stomach tightened.

He looked down.

“She’s good.”

His father smiled.

“Good.”

Aitor knew that smile.

“So,” his father continued, “you'll take her to the family party tomorrow.”

Aitor looked up.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“I have hockey—”

“Not tomorrow.”

“Dad—”

“Your coach gave you the weekend.”

Aitor paused.

He had.

His father folded his hands on the desk.

“The family will be there.”

“I know.”

“Your grandparents.”

Aitor nodded.

“Your aunt and uncle.”

Another nod.

“Your cousins.”

“Yes.”

“And Sofia.”

Aitor stared at the floor.

His father's voice softened.

“You're old enough now, Aitor.”

There it was.

That sentence.

The one that always seemed to carry ten others behind it.

You're old enough now.

Old enough to understand.

Old enough to behave.

Old enough to represent the family.

Old enough to know what is expected of you.

His father continued.

“You're becoming a man.”

Aitor's jaw tightened.

“We expect you to start taking certain things seriously.”

“I do.”

“Do you?”

Aitor looked up.

His father held his gaze.

“You spend your time with hockey. That's fine. Your mother and I support your interests.”

“But?”

“But eventually, you have responsibilities beyond hockey.”

Aitor said nothing.

His father smiled.

“Sofia is a lovely girl.”

“I know.”

“She comes from a good family.”

“I know.”

“She respects you.”

Aitor's throat tightened.

“I know.”

“Then stop looking so miserable every time I mention her.”

Aitor forced a smile.

“I'm not miserable.”

“Good.”

His father stood.

“Tomorrow, I want you beside her.”

Aitor nodded.

“And?”

“Show everyone that you're together.”

The room seemed to become quieter.

Aitor looked at his father.

“Together?”

His father frowned.

“You've been seeing her for months.”

“I know.”

“Then what's the confusion?”

There wasn't one.

Not really.

Aitor knew exactly what his father meant.

He was supposed to take Sofia to the party.

Stand beside her.

Smile.

Talk to her.

Let relatives tease him about his girlfriend.

Let everyone see them together.

Let everyone believe the story his family had already written for him.

Aitor forced himself to nod.

“Okay.”

His father smiled.

“That's my boy.”

The next evening, the Valdez estate was full.

Cars lined the driveway.

Music drifted through the open doors.

Relatives filled the rooms.

Children ran through the gardens while adults stood around talking.

Aitor stood near the entrance beside Sofia.

She looked beautiful in a simple evening dress, smiling politely as people approached.

Aitor smiled too.

He had perfected that smile.

The one that revealed nothing.

“Oh my goodness!”

Aitor's aunt came toward them.

She immediately looked at Sofia.

“Is this her?”

Aitor smiled.

“Aunt Elena.”

She ignored him.

“She is gorgeous!”

Sofia laughed.

“Thank you.”

Then Elena looked at Aitor.

“Our Aitor has a girlfriend!”

Aitor felt his face heat.

“Aunt—”

“Don't be embarrassed!”

Another relative heard.

Then another.

Within seconds, the news travelled through the room.

“Aitor has a girlfriend!”

His cousins came running.

His younger sister appeared from the garden.

“Wait!”

She looked at Sofia.

“Is that your girlfriend?”

Aitor sighed.

“Yes.”

His sister's eyes widened.

“You never told me!”

“You knew.”

“I did not know!”

“You met her before.”

“That doesn't count.”

She grabbed Sofia's hand.

“Come. I need to talk to you.”

Sofia laughed as she followed her.

Aitor watched them disappear into the crowd.

Then someone slapped him on the shoulder.

His older brother.

“Well done.”

Aitor looked at him.

“For what?”

“For finally bringing someone home.”

Aitor forced a laugh.

“Yeah.”

His brother grinned.

“Dad's going to be happy.”

Aitor looked across the room.

His father was talking to several relatives.

He looked proud.

Proud of him.

Proud of the family.

Proud of the picture everyone around him was creating.

Aitor's chest tightened.

Then his grandmother called from across the room.

“Aitor!”

He turned.

She opened her arms.

He walked over.

She kissed his forehead.

“My handsome boy.”

“Hi, Abuela.”

“And this is the girl?”

Aitor smiled.

“Yes.”

She looked toward Sofia.

“She is lovely.”

“Thank you.”

His grandmother took Aitor's hand.

“You're growing up so quickly.”

Aitor smiled.

But something inside him sank.

Growing up.

The words sounded different here.

They didn't mean discovering who you were.

They meant becoming who everyone else expected you to be.

He glanced toward Sofia.

She was laughing with his sister.

She hadn't done anything wrong.

None of this was her fault.

That almost made it worse.

Because Sofia was genuinely kind.

She deserved someone who could look at her and feel what everyone assumed Aitor felt.

Instead, Aitor felt like he was standing inside someone else's life.

A life that looked perfect.

A life everyone approved of.

A life he was supposed to want.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

A message from Javier.

How's family weekend?

Aitor stared at the screen.

Then another message appeared.

Bet they're interrogating you about hockey 😂

Aitor almost smiled.

Almost.

He typed:

You have no idea.

He put the phone away.

Across the room, his father raised his glass.

“Aitor.”

Everyone turned.

Aitor froze.

His father smiled.

“Come here.”

He walked over.

His father placed an arm around his shoulder.

“Everyone, look at our son.”

People smiled.

Aitor smiled too.

“He's doing very well this year.”

Applause.

Aitor stood there.

His father's hand remained firmly on his shoulder.

Then his father looked toward Sofia.

“And he's finally brought his girlfriend home.”

More laughter.

More smiles.

Aitor felt like he couldn't breathe.

But he smiled anyway.

Because that was what he had been taught to do.

Smile.

Stand straight.

Say the right thing.

Never embarrass the family.

Never give anyone a reason to question you.

Never let them see the truth.

Aitor looked across the room.

And for the briefest moment, completely against his will, he thought of Beck.

Beck laughing at the party.

Beck talking to Lucas without caring who was watching.

Beck saying exactly what he thought.

Beck standing outside the rink and asking him directly:

What's your problem?

Aitor looked away.

His father's voice pulled him back.

“Aitor?”

He realized everyone was looking at him.

He smiled.

“Sorry.”

His father laughed.

“Dreaming about your girlfriend already?”

Everyone laughed.

Aitor laughed too.

But inside, one thought refused to disappear.

I wish I knew how to stop pretending.