She walks away as though she hasn’t just torn something open inside me. I stand there shaking, heart pounding, her words echoing over and over.
Ask him what secret he’s hiding.
By the time I make it back to the box, my hands are numb. Callum looks up immediately, concern flashing across his face. Of course he can tell.
I don’t leave during the game. I can’t. I plaster on a smile, cheer when everyone else does, clap when he scores. But inside, doubt coils tight and ugly. When the final buzzer sounds and the crowd erupts, I barely hear it. I’m still hearing her voice.
When Callum reaches me afterward, still in his gear, breathless and flushed with victory, he takes one look at my face and everything else disappears.
“Hey,” he says urgently, hands on my arms. “What happened?”
I shake my head. “Later.”
“No,” he says softly but firmly. “Now.”
The concern in his eyes nearly breaks me.
“She was here,” I whisper.
His jaw tightens instantly. “Did she touch you?”
“No.”
“Did she say something?”
I nod and tell him everything. The placeholder. The secret. The warning. The way his face darkens makes my chest ache.
“I’m so sorry,” he says fiercely, pulling me into him, arms solid and warm around me. “She doesn’t get to do this to you.”
“Is she right?” I ask quietly. “About you hiding something.”
He goes still for a second. Not enough that anyone else would notice. But I do and my heart stutters.
He cups my face. “Whatever she’s trying to imply, it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I choose you.”
I want to believe him. As he holds me, cameras flashing somewhere nearby, I cling to him and tell myself that love is stronger than bitterness. That secrets don’t always mean betrayal and this doesn’t have to break us.
But doubt has been planted. And I don’t know yet how deep its roots go.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CALLUM
Ican still feel her shaking against me long after the arena empties.
The noise fades first; the chants, the music, the scrape of skates being dragged back to the tunnel, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift. It settles. Heavy and suffocating. Rose’s words replay on a loop, each one another crack spidering through the careful control I’ve been clinging to.
She told me to ask you what secret you’re hiding.
I keep my arm around her as we walk out together, my hand firm at the small of her back, protective by instinct and need. Cameras flash. People call my name. Someone congratulates me on the win. I nod, smile automatically, like none of it matters. Because none of it does. All I can think about is the night that ruined everything before I even knew her name.
Rose leans into me in the car, her head resting against my shoulder, eyes closed like she’s exhausted down to her bones. I thread my fingers through her hair, breathing her in, grounding myself in the warmth of her, the reality ofus. She feels safe with me. She trusts me. And I am lying to her.
The drive back to the flat is uneventful. It’s not tense, just weighted. She’s still processing what Talia said. I’m still trying not to unravel.
“You don’t have to worry,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “She’s trying to get inside your head.”
“I know,” Rose states. “I just hate that she made me doubt things for even a second.”
