The corridor outside the dressing room is chaotic with players peeling off gloves, helmets, breath still fogging the air. Cal spots me before I can pretend that I’m invisible. His smile is slow, unstoppable. He breaks away from Brennan mid-celebration and strides over, still catching his breath.
“I could see you from the bench,” he says, voice low and a little breathless. “Every time I looked up… you were there.”
The heat in my chest flares. “That’s kind of the job,” I tease lightly, lifting my camera just to have something to hold.
“Don’t care,” he says, grin turning softer. “Still made me skate harder.”
The team flows past us, giving varying degrees of smirks and eyebrow waggles. Brennan whistles low under his breath as he passes, and Cal gives him a shove. Lukas flashes me a friendly wave before disappearing into the locker room.
We’re suddenly alone in the noise.
Cal leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “Thank you for being here.”
Heat pools under my skin. “Thank Laura. She invited me.”
“I asked her to.”
I blink. I already knew this but hearing him say it out loud hits a little differently and my heart skips. He nods, eyes soft and a little scared. “I wanted you here.”
My pulse stutters. “Cal…”
He reaches up, fingertips brushing a stray lock of hair from my cheek, it’s the gentlest touch, but it wrecks me.
“It’s okay if you don’t want this,” he says, voice rougher now. “Just tell me to stop and I will.”
My breath breaks. He thinks I don’t want this? He thinks I haven’t been falling since the moment he walked into the shop pretending it was coincidence? “I don’t want you to stop,” I whisper.
The truth spills before I can second-guess it. Something in him gives way followed by a low exhale of relief, like he’s been holding himself back from gravity and finally lets go. He steps closer. The air between us snaps tight. I can see every fleck of grey in his eyes, every rise of his chest. His hand finds my jaw, thumb grazing my cheekbone, and for a moment we just breathe the same breath. Then he kisses me.
It’s not careful or tentative, it’s as if he’s been waiting, wanting, burning even. His mouth captures mine with a hunger that steals all coherent thought. My fingers curl into the fabric of his jersey, pulling him closer. He tastes like victory and adrenaline and something that feels heartbreakingly akin to sincerity.
He deepens the kiss, slow but intense, his other hand sliding to the back of my neck as if he can’t bear the idea of distance. My whole body sparks, heat curling under my skin, knees weak as the world tilts.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, foreheads touching, his smile crooked and awed as though he can’t quite believe it happened.
“Jesus, Rose,” he whispers. “I should’ve done that days ago.”
I laugh, shaky and overwhelmed. “I’m not sure I’d have survived it.”
His thumb traces my bottom lip, tender now. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “More than okay.”
Somewhere down the hall, a coach shouts for last interviews. The world rushes back in; the noise, the rules, reality, but something has already changed. Before he pulls away, he presses one more kiss to the corner of my mouth. It’s soft, secret, and stolen.
“I’ll be back soon,” he says. “Wait for me?”
He says it as a promise. Like he’s terrified I won’t. I nod. “Always.”
He squeezes my hand once before slipping into the locker room, and I press my fingers to my lips, heart still sprinting.
Everything feels too big for my chest, from the heat of the kiss and the way he looked at me, to the terrifying, exhilarating fact that something real just happened.
I lean back against the cold wall and steady my breathing, knowing without a doubt this is not just a crush. Not a mistake. Not something I can walk away from anymore.
Whatever this is between us, it’s already unstoppable.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
