“Who was that?”
And there went my momentary peace. Callum stood next to me, smelling like an older version of home and comfort. He wore sport shorts and a loose, cutoff shirt that showcased his muscles. He’d definitely put on muscle in the last three years but also had matured well. He looked good. Objectively, of course. I liked his hard jawline and the laugh lines around his eyes. It meant he was happy—which, that mademehappy.
“You think you have the right to ask me in that tone?” I glared at him.
“I haven’t seen him before.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t go here. Why would you?” I headed toward the entrance, Callum’s footsteps following me with a soft thud. For being a large man, he walked with a quiet swagger.
“Are you dating him?”
“Callum.” I stopped, my shoes squeaking on the floor as my heart raced. The question blindsided me in so many ways. Facing him, I gripped the strap of my bag tighter to prevent myself from yelling. “What are you asking? Why do you care?”
“I told you. I don’t recognize him. He obviously cares for you.” He gripped the back of his neck, his jaw flexing. “He dropped you off and carried your bag.”
“Yeah, because my arm—” I stopped, not willing to give him anything. He’d make fun of me or tell me I couldn’t do this. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s not do this, please.”
“Your armwhat?Is it bothering you? Are you still going to therapy every once in a while?” His gaze moved toward my right shoulder, his nostrils flaring as he scanned me up and down. “You look like you’ve lost weight.”
“Why is everything you say to me in a tone that hurts?” I backpedaled a few steps, putting distance between us. “I have lost weight because I’m working on my feet four days a week. That’s why my arm is a little sore, but Enrique was being kinda?—”
“And how do you feel about Enrique? Does he know your past?”
“Yes, he does,” I fired back. “He knows all of it and doesn’t treat me differently because of it. If anything, he makes sure I have support and confidence.”
“He’s not in any of your pictures, so it must be new. Why are you sharing that with someone so new?” he asked, his voice quiet as he squinted at the ceiling.
“Pictures?” I repeated, my stomach tightening. “Whatpictures?”
His face flushed as his eyes widened. “Never mind. I have to get to practice.”
“What pictures, Callum?”
“Social media, okay?” He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh. “I never stopped following you. I wanted to make sure you were good, that’s all. It’s no big deal. That dude isn’t in any posts, so I figured he was new to your circle.”
He followed me on social media tomake sure I was goodbut couldn’t talk to me in person? Why did that hurt worse? It was one thing to cut me out entirely, but to keep tabs on me and ignore my attempts at reaching out? My fingers trembled, and for the first time, I wasn’t sure I could do this.
Survive three more months of seeing him and feeling the weight of the loss. There were other avenues to being an athletic trainer and other sports. I didn’t know the world outside of football as well, but I was a fast learner.
“Enrique is a huge support for me. I don’t post about him because he’s famous and wants to keep his life under wraps.” I swallowed, moving my arm a few times as the stress caused the muscles to bunch up. “I have never once questioned the people in your life, so please don’t do that to me.”
“I’m not questioning. Why do you look like you’re going to cry? Is your arm bothering you?” He frowned, his dark brows coming together. “Ivy, does Henry know?—”
“I have to get to work.” I left him at the entrance, thankful I had an internship that I loved to keep my busy. I didn’t want to leave the football team or stop working for Henry, but I also wouldn’t survive this dance with Callum either. Being an athletic trainer meant so much to me. It was hard to describe the deep, almost wild need to succeed, all stemming from proving to myself that I could do it. It was physically exhausting. It was hard. You had to know your shit and think on your feet. I loved all of that. Plus, I got the idea from the physical therapist, Eric, who’d worked with me for eight years. He came up with the idea when I was twelve, and it just stuck.
Being on one of the best D1 football teams for an internship was massive to achieving my goal, yet a few conversations with Callum almost derailed me. I either could stay, tough it out to further my dreams, and be crushed by him every day. Or I could explore other options to see what else was out there. Stayingwould be tough, but I did hard things all the time. I could do it. I refused to let Callum get in the way of my goals.
Yet why does the thought of not seeing him hurt me even more?
6
CALLUM
If you removed yourself from the situation and looked in as a neutral bystander, you’d say that talking to Ivy is the first step.
But you almost made her cry. She doesn’t need this bullshit.
Who is that guy holding her bag for her? She smiled at him.
