His smile is gone, but the smug glint in his eye?That’s still there.That golden boy glint.His jaw ticks.My jaw tightens.
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I mutter, the words scraping up from somewhere near my ribs.
Cally folds his arms across his chest.His biceps stretch his jacket.“Nope.Apparently not.”
Callaway fucking Winthrop.
Golden boy.Media darling.The grin that sells jerseys and forgiveness.She let him pick her up?
For a split second, everything in me goes hot—not rage exactly.Something deeper.Territorial.Ancient.The place anger settles when it decides to live in your bones.
“You?”I mutter.
Cally lifts his brows.“Yeah, me.”
He doesn’t smile.That’s the problem.When Callaway stops smiling, it means he’s serious, and I’ve seen what that looks like on the ice.
His gaze slides over me, slow and assessing—not like an opponent, but like a man measuring another man’s claim.
“You okay with that?”I ask because he’s been with Colorado since his rookie year.“I mean ...you’re the Cobras—or the Cobras are you.”
He scoffs.“At the end of the day?I’m fucking nothing.They want new blood.I’m too old.”
I step closer, close enough that the air between us goes tight.“You’re still one of the best players in the league.”
He scoffs.“They said the Orcas need me.”His mouth tilts.“What’s your story?Why are you going back to them?”
I shrug, eyes cutting toward Vesper’s retreating.“It’s not like I could fight it.”I pause, let a beat go.“And one day she’ll stop running.When she does, she’ll come home to Portland—”To me,I don’t say.
His eyes don’t leave me.“She’s the reason I didn’t say fuck it and retire.”
I hold my breath.
“She’s here,” he continues, voice low, earnest in a way that surprises me.“She needs me.Me—”Not you,he doesn’t finish.
My hands curl.Not because he’s wrong—because he’s not.We both showed up with coffee, hope ...and a plan that didn’t include the other.We both think we’re the one who knows how to take care of her.
He came to play hero.
I came to keep my promise.
“You think this is funny?”I ask.
He meets my stare, calm and infuriating.“No.I think it’s war.”
There it is.
The silence stretches, taut with everything we’ve never resolved since Juniper Ridge.Since that night.Since her mouth and her hands and the way the line vanished beneath our feet.
I don’t look away—not because I’m brave, but because I’m already picturing his name on the locker room wall.Already imagining passing him the puck while knowing he wants the same woman I breathe for.
Somewhere down the terminal, she’s probably rolling her eyes and praying we don’t break something before practice.
Good luck with that, Ves.
“I’m not letting her go,” I snap.“I don’t care if we’re teammates and have to learn to work together.”
He shrugs.“That’s okay.”His voice drops an octave.“I wouldn’t mind sharing ...if you know how to shareeverythingwith me.”
