When the morning light leaks pale and early through the curtains, I surface slowly, warm and safe, still wrapped in him. His arms cocoon me. His face is tucked into my hair, breath warm against my neck.
He’s asleep. Peaceful. Beautiful.
And then his body tenses in recognition and panic flickers across his face as he blinks awake, and remembers exactly where he is.
“Shit,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “What time?—”
He twists, squinting at the digital clock.
“Five forty-two,” I murmur, still heavy-limbed with sleep. “The team breakfast is at seven.”
“Then I need to leave now if I don’t want Brennan writing ‘Scarlet Letter’ across my jersey.”
I scrunch my nose. “You’d look good in red.”
He laughs, it’s soft and surprised, and leans down to kiss me, slow and soft but still full of last night’s heat.
“I don’t want to go,” he admits.
“Then don’t.”
He closes his eyes as though that sentence hurts. “If I stay, I may never leave.”
My cheeks burn, but my chest swells at the same time. No one has ever said anything like that to me. Not with that kind of honesty.
He brushes his thumb across my cheek, lingering. “We’ll talk later,” he promises.
“Promise?” I whisper.
“Cross my heart.” His smile tilts, crooked and devastating. “Even if it’s already yours.”
My breath catches, but before I can say anything, he slides out of bed, grabs his hoodie, and cracks the door open just enough to peek into the hallway.
He looks back once more. At me in my Space Taco Cat pyjamas, tangled in the sheets we shared. His eyes soften as if he wants to come right back.
“See you soon, Rose.”
“See you soon, Cal.”
Then he slips out, silent and quick, before the world can notice he ever left.
I lie back in the bed that still smells of him, heart flipping and fluttering and terrified, and let one truth finally settle deep inside me.
I am falling.
And I don’t want to stop.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CALLUM
Sneaking down a hotel corridor before sunrise shouldn’t require elite hockey reflexes, but right now I resemble a spy on a covert mission, hoodie half-zipped, hair a total disaster from having Rose’s hands in it for hours. And I can still taste her. My pulse hasn’t settled since last night. Not through kissing her senseless, not through falling asleep tangled around her, and definitely not now as I slip back toward the team floor, praying no one opens their door.
If Brennan sees me, I’m dead.
I hug the wall as though it’s my only ally, careful not to scuff my boots on the plush carpet. A door creaks somewhere down the hall, and I freeze mid-step, heart hammering. Someone’s shuffling inside. I wait, counting slowly to ten before I dare move again, whispering a silent apology to the universe for being a terrible roommate, or at least a terrible teammate.
Finally, I make it to my room, slide the keycard home, and step inside just as the sky starts to lighten. The door clicks shut and I let out a breath that feels more like a laugh. I can’t believe I actually did that. I can’t believe she wanted me to.
