A second later, our phones buzz with notifications. He doesn’t even check his. Instead, he wraps an arm around my waist and turns me toward the rink, pulling me back to his chest as though he’s shielding me from the world even as he opens us up to it.
“You ready?” he murmurs against my ear.
I let out a slow, shaking breath. “Yes,” I say. “I’m ready.”
And I mean it. Because in his arms, with his heartbeat pressed against my back and his voice anchoring me, the noise doesn’t feel so loud. The world doesn’t feel so big. The fear doesn’t feel so powerful. What feels powerful is us. Callum’s hand slides into mine again, warm and steady.
And as families and fans continue to laugh and skate and cheer around us, as phones buzz with the beginning of our story reaching beyond these walls, and whispers of surprise ripple through the crowd, Callum leans down, lips brushing my temple. “You’re safe with me,” he whispers.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
ROSE
Idon’t know what I expected sitting in the family and friends’ box to feel like, but it wasn’t this.
My heart is pounding so hard it’s echoing in my ears, my palms slick with nerves as I follow the usher through the corridor. The noise from the rink bleeds through the walls, the deep roar of a crowd that knows exactly where it’s going tonight. I clutch the strap of my bag tighter, acutely aware of how out of place I feel in my jeans and jumper surrounded by people who look like they belong here. Yes, I’ve been her plenty of times, either to watch games or the to photograph the team, but this feels bigger now.
My friend Clara, squeezes my arm. “You’re going to be fine,” she murmurs. “You look great.”
I nod, even though my stomach is flipping violently. This isn’t just another game. This is his world.
When we step into the box, the lights hit me first. Bright, white, overwhelming. The ice stretches out below us, impossibly smooth, players are already circling during warm-ups. And then I see him.
Callum.
Helmet off, hair damp, jaw set in that focused way that makes my chest ache. He looks up, it’s as though he feels me before he sees me, and when our eyes meet, something in hisexpression shifts. Softens. He lifts his stick slightly. Just for me, and I swear I see him wink.
My breath catches and my cheeks pink, and suddenly the noise fades into the background. The whispers at uni. Talia’s posts. The comments and the fear that I don’t belong here. None of it matters anymore. Right now, I belong to him. And that’s enough.
The game is fast and brutal and beautiful. I barely sit the whole first period, cheering when everyone else cheers, gripping the rail when Callum slams someone clean into the boards as if it’s nothing. Every time he skates past our side of the rink, my eyes follow him automatically.
I can feel people clocking me. Not in a cruel way. More curious and assessing. Callum’s girlfriend. The thought is dizzying.
During the second intermission, Clara nudges me. “I’m grabbing a drink. You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll just go to the loo.”
The corridor outside the box is quieter, the noise muffled now. I let out a slow easy breath as I head toward the restrooms, replaying Callum’s smile in my head like a talisman.
That’s when I feel it. The shift in the air. That instinctive prickle between my shoulder blades that tells me I’m not alone.
“Enjoying the view?”
The voice is smooth. I freeze and then slowly turn.
Talia stands a few feet away, arms folded, perfectly styled, wearing a coat that probably costs more than my rent. Her lips curve into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Oh,” she says lightly. “You do exist off Instagram.”
My stomach drops, but I force my spine straight. “I don’t want any trouble,” I say evenly.
She laughs. A sharp, delighted sound. “Trouble?” She tilts her head. “Sweetheart, you are the trouble.”
I take a breath. “I’m just here to watch the game.”
“Of course you are.” Her gaze flicks over me, slow and deliberate, like she’s cataloguing my flaws. “Family box and all. Bold move.”
“Callum invited me.”
Her smile tightens. “Did he.”
