That Time We Faked It (Time On The Ice #3)

6. CAL

CAL

The Laws of Gravity (and Bad Life Choices)

" C al, that was all your fault!"

Petra's voice cut through the ringing in my ears like a blade. I blinked hard, trying to shake off the daze, my body slumping as she pushed off me in frustration.

My bones felt like they were weighed down with cement, every muscle screaming at me for putting them through hell. I stretched my arm back, fingers brushing through the dampness at the base of my head, praying it was just ice and not something worse. To my relief, it was cold water—not blood—but the throbbing told me I’d probably be sporting a nice bump in the morning.

The double shifts were catching up with me. Between early morning training and nights at Jack’s bar—where I was practically clocking in like it was my second job—it wasn’t hard to figure out why I felt like a walking corpse.

Still, I couldn’t stop. The bar was my escape, my distraction from… everything. It was fun in a way I hadn’t felt in years. Being there meant smiling, laughing, and not having to go home to a space that reminded me too much of all the faults I kept trying to tape over.

"Callum," Coach growled, his voice simmering with frustration, "go. Get checked for a concussion, and come back tomorrow with a different attitude."

I didn’t argue. I didn’t even look him in the eye. I just nodded, shuffling toward the exit like the walking dead.

On my way home, foggy-headed and shoulders slumped, I did what I always seemed to do these days—I took a detour. Just a quick one. Past the bar.

It was stupid, but I needed to see it. I needed to make sure everything was fine, even though Jack had hired Sadie and Taron, proving that the caveman had brains as well as brawn.

They were running things smoothly now, so I really had no excuse to keep coming back… except I couldn’t stop. Jack’s bar was like a siren song, and I was a hopeless sailor steering straight for the rocks.

As I turned onto the quiet street, the familiar glow of the bar’s lights made something in my chest settle. Then I saw it—the windows. The decal.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my breath misting in the cold air as I took it in. The gorgeous cutouts lit up the night, just like Eli and I had imagined—athlete silhouettes glowing from the inside, the path of light cutting through the blacked-out glass in perfect, clean lines. And above it, in bold letters that felt proud and inviting, LineBack Jack’s: Inclusive Sports Bar .

A faint smile tugged at my lips despite the pounding in my skull. I’d pulled it off. Seeing it come to life like that—it felt good. It felt like a win.

I squinted through the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jack—maybe brooding behind the counter or grumbling at someone about the state of their drink order. But he wasn’t there. Disappointed, I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and turned to leave. Coach was right; I needed rest.

My head throbbed with every step, the ache now radiating down my spine, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d probably end up collapsing face-first in the snow.

I sighed, trudging toward home, already feeling the scratch at the back of my throat that told me I was coming down with something. Honestly, when the hell was my immune system going to get its shit together?

I eventually stumbled into the house, which, for once, was blissfully quiet. The faint glow of light spilled out from under Tyler’s door, but the rest of the place was dark.

I scuffled down the hallway toward Tyler’s room, when I reached his door, I leaned against the frame, my body feeling boneless with exhaustion. Inside, Tyler was sprawled out on his bed, laptop open, the sound of a hockey game buzzing through the room like white noise. I was all set to roll my eyes at his endless obsession with hockey—because of course he was watching a game—until I heard the commentator say Hunter’s name.

That stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Is he winning?” I asked, my voice coming out scratchy and faint.

Tyler’s face lit up like Christmas had come early.

“He’s fucking amazing, Cal. Seriously. I really hope he gets called up soon… but he said they want to keep him down for a bit longer to ‘develop his play.”

Tyler’s grin stretched wider as his eyes stayed glued to the screen. “He’s a goddamn force.”

I padded into the room, shuffling close enough to kiss his cheek—a gesture that earned me a small grunt of affection. “He’ll get called up. I know it. Everything’s been falling into place for you two. Just wait—next thing you know, you’ll be complaining about spending too much time together.”

Tyler scoffed, rolling his eyes, but the laugh that bubbled out of him was soft and genuine.

“He’s annoying as hell… but, fuck, I just love him.”

“I know you do,” I said, smiling as I stood there like a sleep-deprived ghost. “You’ve had more bad luck than anyone deserves in a lifetime. Have faith. It’s all going to work out, Ty.”

He finally glanced up at me, his features softening.

“Love you, Cal. But seriously… are you okay? You look a little pale.”

Tyler’s concern was written all over his face, and I tried my best to wave him off with a noncommittal shrug. “Just tired. Calling it a night. Love you.”

I could see him squinting, clearly debating whether to push further, but thankfully, he didn’t. He just nodded. “Night, Cal.”

Dragging myself out of his room, I waddled into mine, kicking my shoes off and collapsing onto the bed like my body had completely given up. I didn’t even bother pulling back the sheets. For the first time in forever, I didn’t have the energy for a shower, let alone the energy for a wank.

The moment my head hit the pillow, I was out cold.