He holds my hand the entire drive to the rink, thumb brushing the back of mine in silent reassurance. When we pull into the familiar car park, nerves spike in my stomach. There are families streaming in and out, kids clutching plastic hockey sticks, volunteers hanging signs, a fundraiser tent bustling near the entrance. The whole place has the hum of a community gathering, but my heart thumps so hard I can hear it.
Callum notices instantly. “Hey.” He squeezes my hand. “We go in together. Or we don’t go in at all. Okay?”
“Okay,” I breathe.
“And if you want to leave? We leave. Doesn’t matter when.”
“Okay.”
“If anyone speaks to you in a way I don’t like…” His jaw clenches slightly. “I’ll handle it.”
I try to smile. “I’m not sure you threatening parents at a charity event is the image the team wants.”
“I said I’ll handle it.” He leans closer. “Not necessarily badly.”
My stomach flips.
He steps out of the car first, coming around to open my door like it’s second nature now. When our fingers lace, something shifts, something grounding, like I’m stepping into a new reality with him.
There are eyes, of course. There always are. Fans, parents, volunteers; they all notice him first. He’s recognisable even without his kit. But today, their eyes keep drifting to me too. And this time, instead of letting me shrink back, Callum shifts closer, placing his hand at the small of my back. A protective, unmistakably intimate gesture.
One that says;Yes. She’s with me. And I’m proud of it.
Inside, the rink is buzzing. Kids are skating in mismatched helmets, players mingling and laughing, tables filled with raffle baskets and baked goods. Bright lights glimmer off the ice, and familiar faces wave at Callum as soon as they spot him. He nods back, keeping me tucked into his side.
“Callum!” Laura calls out as she approaches. She spots me and softens. “Hi, Rose. We’re glad you’re here today.”
I blink. “You are?”
“Of course.” She smiles warmly. “If you’re comfortable, we’d love a few photos of you and Callum together. Nothing posed. Just natural. Supportive. We’ll be capturing the other players and their significant others, too.”
I feel my pulse spike, but Callum squeezes my waist.
“Only if she wants to,” he says firmly.
His protectiveness washes through me like a steadying force. “I think that’s okay,” I manage.
Laura gives me a reassuring nod before moving off.
We continue walking through the stadium, and everywhere we go, people look. But it’s different than the whispers at uni. These looks aren’t mocking. They’re curious. Some even approving.
Callum must sense my confusion, because he leans in, lips brushing my hair. “Told you.” he murmurs. “Different world. These people know me. They know the truth and they know what she’s like. They’ll take you over her any day.”
And maybe I’m starting to believe it.
We make it to the edge of the rink, and Callum slips his arm fully around my waist, pulling me back against his chest as we watch kids chase a puck in clumsy zig-zags. “Look at them go,” he murmurs, chin on my shoulder. “Awful skating. Anarchy. Love it.”
I laugh, nerves easing. “You were that chaotic once?”
“Still am, sometimes.” He kisses my cheek, its quick and soft. “You just make me want to pretend I’m put together.”
Warmth blooms behind my ribs. “You don’t have to pretend anything,” I murmur.
He kisses me again, lingering this time. “I don’t want to pretend around you.”
Someone snaps a photo nearby, it’s one of the media staff catching a candid moment. I stiffen for a second before realising it doesn’t bother me like I expected. I’m used to being behind the camera, not in front of it but somehow, I feel relaxed and almost happy.
Callum senses it too, because his grip tightens slightly, a silentI’m here. I’ve got you.
