By the end of practice, I’m drenched. The locker room fills with laughter again and the hiss of showers, then Ryan’s playlist kicks back in and everyone starts vibing. Lukas collapses on the bench beside me, hair dripping. “Coach nearly murdered you out there, eh?”
“Nearly.”
He grins. “You skate as if you’ve got something to prove.”
“Maybe I do.”
He studies me a moment, then shrugs. “That’s not a bad thing. Just make sure you’re proving it to yourself, not someone else.”
It’s the kind of line that shouldn’t hit as hard as it does, but I feel it right in my ribs.
Ryan tosses a towel at Lukas’s head. “Don’t go getting philosophical, rookie. Leave the midlife crisis to Cal.”
Brennan’s voice cuts through the noise. “Oi, enough. We’re grabbing lunch before media. You in, Cal?”
“Maybe next time.”
Ryan frowns. “You sure? You’ve been ghosting us lately.”
“I’m good.” I tug on my hoodie, shove my gear into my bag. “See you tomorrow.”
Brennan watches me for a long moment but doesn’t push. He just nods once. “Take it easy, mate.”
The drive back to the flat feels longer than usual. Grey sky pressing down, the road slick with rain. It’s oppressive. My phone buzzes once in the passenger seat. I glance at it, and my chest stutters.
Rose: Hope training wasn’t too brutal today. PR said they’re posting the shots next week. They looked good in the draft.
I pull into a side street and just sit there, staring at the message. She didn’t need to text. She could’ve gone through Laura, the PR manager. She chose to message me directly, that has to mean something.
My thumbs hover over the screen.
They look great. You’ve got a hell of an eye.
Too much.
Thanks for letting me know.
Too cold.
I finally settle on something simple.
CAL: You made us look better than we are. Appreciate it.
It’s safe, professional, but the moment I hit send, my pulse jumps anyway.
She replies a minute later.
ROSE: Maybe you’re just better than you think.
That’s it. One simple line. But it undoes me completely. After giving my head a shake, I pull out of the side street and head back to the flat.
That night, I can’t focus on anything. The flat feels too clinical. It’s the place we house any new players from out of the area. Lukas was here for a few months until he found somewhere to rent, I know I need to be out of here sooner than that. I can’t live like this. Every room is a blank canvas, no personal items, no scattered belongs, it’s a reflection of my life right now. The life I want to move away from. I try to watch a game replay, but I end up staring at the screen without taking in a second of it.
There’s an emptiness where Talia used to be, not her, but the noise she made, the distraction. Now, with the silence, there’s nothing left to hide behind. Just me and the truth I’ve been avoiding.
I want Rose.
Not in the shallow, easy way I wanted Talia, the kind that looks good on camera and is good for my image, as bad as that sounds. This is different. This is slow, dangerous, and feels inevitable.
