15. WADE
WADE
The Weight of Falling
F rom my spot at the kitchen window, I caught sight of Cal sitting at the bar, his hands pressed together in that familiar prayer pose against his lips as he watched his best friends on the screen. The game played on, bright and loud, but it was the glisten in his eyes that had me struck still. There he was, openly moved to tears for the dreams of others, just so happy to see them living it. I had a feeling there wasn’t anyone quite like him, not in this way.
He gave so much of himself. He’d been all too ready to dive into wedding planning for my brother, doing it with this bright enthusiasm as if he was the one getting something out of it. And yet, I’d learned that if you tried to get too close to him, there was this shield—a force field almost.
“The counters are so clean you could eat off them, boss.” Sadie’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. She was leaning against the kitchen bench, a sly grin on her face as she glanced from me to Cal.
“What do you need, Sadie?” I muttered, a little too sharply. Her grin was starting to wear on my last nerve, the nerve that thumped in time with my heartbeat and sent a few unwanted signals to my brain, all of which involved him.
Sadie’s smirk only widened. “Oh, I don’t need anything. Just saying, you could always go out there and watch the game with him. We both know you’re going to be staring at him anyway.”
I rolled my eyes, but she didn’t let up. “C’mon, Jack. At least pretend to enjoy yourself out there instead of hiding in here.”
“No,” I said, brushing past her to check the order tickets. “I’m working.”
“Sure,” she replied, in that tone of exaggerated disbelief. “Working real hard, mooning over someone and doing nothing about it.”
With a growl, I grabbed a fresh tea towel and snapped it in her direction, getting a laugh for my trouble. “Remind me who’s the boss here?”
“You, obviously. But as the self-appointed meddler, I’m telling you to get out there.”
Another growl escaped me, but Sadie had already turned away, barely holding back her giggles. So I did go out to serve drinks—though I stayed firmly on the opposite side of the bar.
****
"God, I should’ve made Cal my best man," Benny said over the phone, his tone laced with awe. I could picture him now, shaking his head like he was talking about some mythical figure rather than the whirlwind of spreadsheets and charm that had crashed into my life.
"Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve met him first," I replied, my words sharper than I intended, but Benny just laughed, unfazed.
“Honestly, if I had, we’d probably all be better off. So where are you off to this early? I only texted on a whim—I didn’t expect you to actually be awake.”
I rubbed a hand over my face, stifling a yawn as I navigated the still-dark streets. Mornings and I had never been friends, not even after years in the military.
“Meeting Cal at the rink. He’s been busy lately.”
Benny let out a low whistle, amusement and admiration bleeding through.
“God, don’t tell me I’m interrupting quality boyfriend time!” His teasing only made the knot in my chest tighten.
“Jack, do you know what he’s done? He’s got a list of suppliers, a timeline for setup and pack-up, and even suit fittings sorted for the engagement party and the wedding. Oh, and he found someone to custom design dresses for Mom and the girls! Do you understand? The man’s a force of nature.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, unable to stop the ghost of a smile tugging at my lips. “He’s… something else.”
“You know,” Benny continued, his voice softening into genuine warmth, “I already love him. You better hold on tight. Cal’s the best thing that’s ever happened to us.”
I swallowed hard, the weight of Benny’s words landing squarely on my shoulders. "Right," I muttered, but he wasn’t finished.
“Your only duty,” he added, a playful edge to his tone, “is to get your suit ready for the party and show up on time. Cal’s even scheduled your tailoring for the next day, so no excuses, Wade.”
The pang of guilt hit harder than I expected, lodging itself deep in my chest. Benny didn’t know the truth. None of them did. Cal wasn’t mine. This whole thing was an act—a well-rehearsed lie—but hearing Benny talk about him like he was already part of the family made it feel too real. Too close.
And the truth was, it was hard to keep my distance. Cal was relentless, a whirlwind of energy and charm, all wrapped up in a determination that could bulldoze through even the most stubborn obstacles. My family was falling for him. Fuck, even I was fall—Cared for him, even knowing full well how it would end. Cal wasn’t mine to keep. Eventually, he’d get tired of me, or I’d screw it up. The outcome felt inevitable.
“Wade?” Benny’s voice snapped me back to reality. “You still there?”
"Yeah," I said quickly, steadying my voice even as my chest ached. “I’ll be there. And the fitting.”
There was a pause on the other end, Benny’s tone turning thoughtful.
“And Cal? He’ll be at the party, right?”
I huffed, trying to shake the lingering weight of Benny’s words.
“He wouldn’t miss his big, magical production for anything—not even a skating competition.”
But as I hung up and pushed through the doors to the rink, Benny’s parting comment echoed in my head, burrowing under my skin. Don’t let him get away—I like him for you.
The ache deepened. Cal wasn’t mine to lose, no matter how much Benny—and now, my foolish heart—wanted him to be.
The sharp bite of rink air snapped me back, but my focus stayed locked on Cal. Out there, in the middle of the ice, he moved with a grace that was nothing short of mesmerizing. His turns were fluid, his lifts powerful—but something was off. The spark that usually lit up his every move felt dulled, his steps too precise, like he was forcing each one to hold together. It wasn’t just me who noticed. His coach’s voice cut through the music, sharp and relentless, barking orders louder and harsher the harder Cal pushed.
Then came the lift. I watched his body tense, every muscle straining as he hoisted Petra high. For a moment, it was seamless, strength and elegance working together, until his ankle wobbled. The slightest hesitation. A flicker of pain crossed his face, and then it happened. His ankle gave out, and with a resounding crash, he went down hard, Petra sprawling across him.
The sound of their fall echoed through the cold space, my stomach twisting in time with it. Cal stayed on the ice, staring up at the ceiling like he was too dazed—or too spent—to move. Petra scrambled off him with a scowl, muttering under her breath as she skated away, while the coach’s furious voice filled the arena.
“What the fuck was that?” The words sliced through the air, all irritation and no concern.
I didn’t even think. Setting down the coffees, I stepped onto the ice, boots slipping slightly, but my focus never wavered. Cal was still lying there, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His face twisted, not just from pain but something deeper—frustration, maybe defeat. The coach’s shouting blurred into the background as I knelt beside him, brushing past everything else like it didn’t exist.
“Hey, you okay, Pretty Boy?” I kept my voice low, steady, though my pulse hammered against my ribs.
He blinked, his brows knitting together in confusion as his gaze slowly found mine. “Did I hit my head so hard I’m seeing Jack?” His voice was weak, rasping, the barest hint of humor wrapped in disbelief.
“Not a vision, unfortunately,” I replied, forcing a small smile even as my worry deepened. “But how hard did you hit it?”
He tried for a smirk, but it barely surfaced. “Guess I just lost my edge for a second,” he muttered, his eyes flickering away from mine. The frustration returned, sharper now, cutting into his features before he masked it again.
I held out a hand, but he shook his head, jaw tightening as he pushed himself up on his own. Stubborn as always. He tested his ankle, wincing despite his best effort to hide it, his steps unsteady but determined. The sight made my chest tighten. I knew that look—it was the look of someone fighting to stand tall, no matter how broken they felt.
I hovered close, resisting the urge to reach out, to share the weight that was so clearly crushing him. But when I moved to follow, his jaw set, his voice cutting through the icy air.
“Leave, Jack,” he said, low and resolute, his back straight even as his body betrayed him. “Remember the rules, no coming here, I’ll see you at the airport for the party.”
The words hit like a blow, an invisible line drawn between us that I hadn’t expected, even though maybe I should have. I nodded, swallowing the knot in my throat, pretending the rejection didn’t sting. I turned and walked away, each step across the rink feeling heavier, the cold echo of my boots on the ice following me out.
As I reached the door, the coach’s voice rose again, tearing into Cal with unrelenting blame. The accusations, the sharp-edged words about being distracted, sliced through me as if they were directed at me instead. My gut twisted, frustration curdling into guilt because I knew—this wasn’t just about Cal. It was about me.
He was taking the fall for this whole charade, for keeping up this act while it chipped away at him piece by piece. And what had I given him in return? Nothing but more weight to carry, more fractures in the armor he was barely holding together.
Regret settled in, heavy and unshakable, leaving me raw and hollow. This was supposed to be a fake arrangement, something easy and detached, but it wasn’t fake anymore—at least, not for me. And the bitter truth? In the end, I might walk away whole, but maybe once more the man I cared about… wouldn’t.