Warm-ups start, but he keeps glancing at me. Every time he skates past, every time he stops near the blue line, there’s this pull between us. This electric thread that feels almost too intimate to share with an entire arena. And when he takes his last lap before heading off, he shoots the puck deliberately into the boards beneath my feet. It ricochets off, and he nods like he’s claiming the ground I’m standing on.
The game is a blur. Not because I’m not watching, but because I’m watching him with a kind of intensity I didn’t know I was capable of. He plays like he’s on fire; fast and focused, but every time he’s on the bench, his gaze drifts to where I sit. I can’t describe the feeling in my chest when the cameras catch it and the crowd murmurs knowingly.
When he scores in the second period, he doesn’t celebrate with his teammates first. He points his stick straight at me, mouth split into a grin that does something reckless to my insides. The crowd roars. I swear I hear someone behind me shout, “Get it, Rose!” and I have to hide my face for a second because I can feel heat rushing up my neck.
They win, of course. And the moment the buzzer sounds, he jumps the boards, skates right toward the family section, gloves still on. He stops directly in front of me, helmet under his arm, breath steaming in the cold arena air.
“You’re coming down to meet him?” Ryan’s mum asks, nudging my shoulder.
Before I can answer, Callum lifts his gloved hand and rests it against the glass with a softness that shouldn’t be possible with that much adrenaline coursing through him. I press my palm against the other side, and the small smile that curves his mouth is enough to melt every bone in my body. He mouths,Stay there.
When he finally meets me downstairs, he’s still damp from the shower, hair pushed back, dressed in team joggers and a hoodie that looks way too good on him for casual clothing. The moment he sees me, his whole expression softens. He steps into my space without hesitation, hooking a finger under my chin to tilt my face up.
“Hi,” he murmurs, as though he didn’t just own the entire ice surface for sixty minutes.
“Hi,” I breathe back, feeling like gravity is a complicated concept around him.
“I liked seeing you there.” His thumb drags across my jaw, slow and claiming. “More than I thought I would.”
“It looked like it,” I tease, though my voice is slightly unsteady. “The stick tapping gave it away.”
The smirk that pulls at his mouth is pure, unfiltered Callum. “I wanted you looking at me.”
“I was.”
“Good.” He leans down until we’re sharing breath. “Get used to it.”
There’s heat simmering under every inch of him, the kind that promises things he’ll make good on later, but beneath it there’s something else. A sense of certainty that makes my stomach flip.
As we walk out toward the exit, flashes go off from fans snapping photos, whispers spreading, and social media already buzzing, no doubt. I feel the anxiety pinch at the edges of my mind, but then Callum’s arm drapes over my shoulders, pulling me into his side, warm and solid, and utterly unbothered.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, low enough that only I can hear. “I don’t care who’s looking.”
And for the first time since Talia’s posts started, the fear loosens its grip. Because the way he holds me isn’t performative. It’s promise. It’s possession. It’s him choosing me in front of everyone who once thought he belonged to someone else.
When we reach the car, he leans against the door, hands braced on either side of my hips, caging me in. His eyes search mine, a little hungry. “You know this isn’t temporary, right?”
My breath catches. “You keep saying things like that.”
“That’s because I mean them.” His fingers slide into my hair, slow enough to make my pulse trip. “I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not letting anything, especially her, come near what we’re building.”
I swallow hard because the emotion in his voice hits me low and deep. “I believe you.”
His forehead dips to mine. “I’m falling for you so fast, it scares the shit out of me.”
And then he kisses me right there in the parking lot, in full view of anyone walking by, and it’s gentle but fierce, the kind of kiss that resembles a vow. The kind of kiss that tells me Talia can post whatever she wants.
Because Callum isn’t looking back.
He’s looking at me.
CHAPTER THIRTY
CALLUM
Rose is still sleeping when I wake, curled into my side with her cheek pressed to my chest. The soft, even breaths, the warmth, the way her fingers have fisted in my T-shirt as though she’s claiming me even in her sleep, every bit of her undoes whatever parts of me were still holding out, not that there were many. I brush my knuckles down her spine gently so I don’t wake her, but she shifts anyway, nestling closer to me on instinct. I’m fucking gone for her.
And I still haven’t told her the one thing that could detonate all of this. The reason I found her in that hospital. Why I couldn’t keep away initially. Why I walked into her hospital room the next day with some pathetic excuse of wanting to make sure she was alright.
