I shove past him harder than I should. “Get out of my way then.”
He smirks. “There he is.”
The chirping is normal but the bitterness behind mine isn’t. I can feel it scraping at the inside of my ribs, like little claws of fear scratching. The kind of fear you can’t show anyone.
After the final whistle, Coach calls us over to huddle, and when he dismisses the boys but nods for me to stay, my stomach drops a little. Not the crash thing. Not that. He doesn’t know. No one knows. But everything else? Yeah. He definitely knows that, it’d be hard not to since Talia’s public showdown at the rink.
He waits until everyone’s cleared out before he speaks. “PR wants you upstairs.”
I wipe a hand over my face. “Because of Talia’s shit?”
“Because of how fast it’s spreading.”
“Great.” I kick at the ice shavings near the boards. “Exactly how I wanted to start my morning.”
He gives me a look, it’s an older, steadier, more patient-but-don’t-push-me look. “Keep your head, Callum. They can help if you let them.”
I nod and shove my gloves into my bag, walking off the ice dripping sweat and irritation. By the time I climb the stairs to the offices, my hair’s still damp, and my hoodie’s sticking to my back. PR has two people in the room today, not a good sign, and they’re both already scrolling on their tablets before I sit down.
“Callum,” Laura says, tapping something on her screen. “We’re going to keep this straightforward. Talia’s posts are gaining traction. She’s implying you cheated, which is bad enough, but she’s also tagging fan accounts and using old photos. It isn’t defamatory enough to legally pursue, but it is close.”
I exhale slowly. “I didn’t cheat.”
“We know.” She clicks something. “The problem is public perception. Rose has already been pulled into comment threads.”
My jaw flexes. “She didn’t deserve that.”
“No,” Laura agrees. “But she’s involved now. What we need to know is whether this relationship is… temporary or something you want to be public.”
I hesitate for a second, but the truth hits so hard it knocks out any doubt. “It’s real. I’m not going anywhere.”
Both PR reps nod, relieved. “Good. Then we build a plan around that. Which means you don’t respond to Talia. Don’t fuel it. Don’t post anything reactive. And keep close to Rose. She might get heat she’s not used to. Talia only knows who she is because we credited her, and rightly so, on the recent media campaign. We have a duty to take of Rose too; she’s part of the team now.”
“She’s already getting heat.”
Laura softens. “Then be there for her. The more stable you two look, the faster these things die. We’ll do all we can our end to protect you and Rose, I’ll get to work on lifting some of Talia’s posts and putting a positive spin on you.”
Stable. That’s the only word I fixate on. Yeah. If only they knew how unstable I actually feel. Because if Rose ever finds out the truth about that night; the sirens, the way my hands shook as I pulled away from the carnage, how I thought the hit came from me.
No. I bury it. Force it down deep, I can’t let it surface. Not now. Not when she trusts me this much.
When the meeting ends, I head back down the stairs, rubbing at my neck and the tension knot that seems to be permanently there these days. The lads are crowding the players’ lounge. Ryan sees me first and makes a low whistle.
“Well? Are you cancelled yet?”
I flip him off, and the room erupts in laughter. Lukas throws a protein bar at my head. “Good news or bad?”
“PR shit.”
“Ah. Boring,” he says, stretching out. “We were hoping for a brawl.”
“I’m sure you were.”
But all of the teasing, the noise, and the normality, just makes me want to get out faster. I need air. I need a moment without everyone staring at me like I’m a tabloid headline. I need Rose.
I shower, dress, and check my phone before I leave. There’s another notification. Another dig from Talia’s account, this one cryptic, dramatic, and designed to pour gasoline onto a rumour fire. I slam my locker shut before I can spiral again. What the fuck is wrong with her? Why can’t she just accept it’s over and move on?
When I get outside, the cold Manchester air hits my lungs hard. But there she is, standing by my car, bundled in her coat, her hair pulled over one shoulder as she scrolls her phone. My whole body unclenches. Every part of me settles the second I see her.
