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

36. CAL

CAL

Crutches, Cottages, and Emotional Olympics

I held my breath as Jack’s finger gently moved the strand of hair from my face. The urge to cry felt like a constant companion these days, hovering just beneath the surface. Mercury had to be in retrograde or something—the way my emotions kept fluctuating was enough to make anyone dizzy.

And like always, I got lost in his eyes. Those deep, unwavering pools of intensity dared anyone to hold his gaze. And me? I couldn’t look away if I tried.

His eyes pulled me into a memory—a happy one, for a change. I was twelve, back when skating felt like freedom instead of pressure. I had snuck out in the early hours before my mom had woken, riding my bike to a lake I’d spotted on the drive into town.

The sunrise had painted the Massachusetts sky in colors so vivid it looked like the trees were on fire. The ice stretched out before me, untouched by the thousands of blades that carved up the rink back home. Gliding across that frozen expanse, I felt like I was the first person in history to ever skate there.

I danced that morning, my movements wild and unpolished but so completely free. Like a pagan at a stone circle during sabbath, I poured every ounce of joy and spirit into the ice beneath me. For the first time, skating wasn’t about technique or points—it was about feeling alive.

Now, staring into Jack’s eyes, I felt that same soaring in my chest. That same connection to something deeper, something raw and true.

He didn’t look away as he took in every part of me—every face I wore, every fracture I tried to hide. And that little smile he always fought to keep hidden? It twitched at the corner of his mouth like it was meant just for me.

Wade continued bathing me with a careful reverence, his hands sure and steady as they worked over my skin. And yeah, I didn’t miss the way his body reacted to me—how that undeniable monster cock of his strained against the fabric of his underwear. But he didn’t push things further, not even a little.

I wasn’t sure if I felt relieved or frustrated—or maybe a mix of both. Still, I couldn’t deny the humble gratitude simmering beneath it all. Because truth be told, I was in a lot of pain. If Wade hadn’t been there, I probably would’ve caved and hunted down some sleeping pills to just knock me out.

Once I was clean, Wade turned off the water without saying a word. The silence wasn’t awkward—it felt purposeful , like he knew I needed space to process whatever slippery slope of thoughts spiraled in my mind.

He toweled me dry with the same care he’d used when bathing me, his hands gentler than I thought a man his size could manage. Then, to my utter surprise, he brushed my hair.

Something about that simple act—such an intimate, human thing—had my heart thumping like the backtrack to a Taylor Swift song. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had brushed my hair. Hell, I cut it myself most of the time, and it wasn’t like my childhood offered anything close to tender moments like this.

It was a kindness I hadn’t realized I was starving for until now. And as his fingers carefully worked through the tangles, I found myself watching the man in the mirror, wondering how the hot mess express that was myself managed to nab the dark Viking god that was my Wade.

As someone who prided himself on being a planner—a trait ingrained in me since childhood, when I used to "assist" my mom with our schedules—it was downright disorienting to be at an airport without a clear destination. If not for the boarding pass and my sixth sense, I wouldn’t have known where we were headed. But considering we were en route to Boston, it didn’t take a genius to figure out we were going to Wade’s family home.

It was a strange feeling, knowing I was about to be handed off to people who cared about him—presumably so they could look after me on his behalf. I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or insulted. Add to that the complicated guilt of not having spoken to his family since the engagement party. That one was on me, though. They’d tried reaching out, but much like I had with Wade in the beginning, I ignored their messages in an effort to be less of a "distraction." At least, that’s how I justified it to myself.

The flight, while far from comfortable thanks to my leg, was much better than it could’ve been. First class will do that to a person, apparently. Between the plush seating, the never-ending glasses of champagne, and the overly-attentive flight attendants, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d wandered into someone else’s life.

But it wasn’t the luxury keeping me distracted—it was Wade.

He was stoic, as usual. The same unreadable expression I remembered from the first night I met him. His calm, steady demeanor might’ve driven me mad if not for the occasional glance my way. They were fleeting, softening his sharp, grey eyes just enough to remind me that this wasn’t the Wade who lived behind a bar, the one who kept his heart hidden behind a fortress of dry humor and polite indifference. This Wade cared.

Which had me looking at him like a school boy with a crush, counting every side glance like it was a drug. When he wasn’t flicking his beautiful gaze my way, I catalogued every little nuance: the way his fingers tapped idly against the armrest, the way his lips quirked ever so slightly when he caught me staring.

For someone who claimed to have no patience for dramatics, Wade was unknowingly starring in the slow-burn romance of my life.

Getting off the plane first—thanks to my invalid status—came with its perks, the biggest of which was Wade. His hand rested on the small of my back as we moved, It wasn’t hand-holding exactly, but it was close, and the warmth radiating from his touch seemed to seep into my muscles, soothing the stiffness in ways no amount of stretching or painkillers ever could.

Meanwhile, his other hand held both our bags like it was nothing, his arm flexing as he adjusted the weight. I swear, there’s nothing sexier than a man carrying stuff. The sheer strength on display, the veins tracing up his forearm like a roadmap to Daddy Issues, Population: Me, and the casual competence of it all? Be still my traitorous heart.

Of course, the universe couldn’t let me enjoy the moment without a reminder that I was essentially a baby bird with a busted wing. I had to mentally calculate where to place my crutches before I dared move them, all while trying to ignore the fact that I felt about as graceful as a moose on roller skates. Wade’s unbothered demeanor didn’t help either. He had this way of making everything look so damn easy while I was over here trying not to trip over thin air.

"Need a hand, Pretty Boy?" Wade asked, his voice low and teasing, that little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I huffed, already cursing the day I let him in my life. "Only if you're planning to carry me too," I shot back, trying to channel some sass despite the heat crawling up my neck.

He grinned devilishly. "That can be arranged."

Great. Now I had to focus on not combusting and figuring out how to navigate an airport without making a fool of myself. Wade, of course, was already leading us toward the exit like he was born to handle situations like this. Me? I was just hoping I could make it to the car without face-planting.

The drive to Rossler Flats felt worlds apart from my first chaotic journey there. No flat tires, no snot-soaked tissues, and certainly no questionable in-flight odors haunting me this time. Instead, the car hummed softly as we cut through the Massachusetts countryside. The view outside was sprawling and lush, the kind of idyllic scenery that could make even the most tightly wound person start to breathe a little easier.

As I watched the trees blur into shades of green and gold, I felt something shift inside me. It was subtle, like a knot loosening. The cramped energy from being cooped up in the apartment— both literal and emotional—began to melt away, carried off by the open spaces and wide skies.

Wade drove in comfortable silence, his hand occasionally brushing mine when he shifted gears. I leaned back into the seat, letting the soft countryside breeze from the cracked window graze my skin.

As we made our way to the main house of Rossler Flats, I took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for whatever lay ahead. The sight of his very large family gathered on the front steps had me momentarily stunned. They were all there, eager, smiling, waiting for me like I was some sort of special guest and not just a grumpy broken failure destined to spend the foreseeable future sulking in a bed and wondering what the hell I was going to do with my life.

But regardless of my inner monologue, they came running down the steps like a stampede, arms open and voices loud. All the familiar faces from the engagement party swarmed toward us, faces lit up like they were genuinely happy to see me. Even the ones I half-expected to glare at me for bad-mouthing them that night didn’t show a hint of disappointment. If anything, they looked... welcoming.

And, just like that, I found myself unsure of whether to brace for impact or let myself be swept up in it all.

The first to reach me was Wade’s mum, her piercing blue eyes glittering with excitement. She moved with purpose, her arms already open wide before I could even process what was happening. In one swift motion, she had me out of the seat, her hands firm but gentle as she pulled me into a warm, enveloping hug.

It wasn’t just a hug; it was the kind that took your breath away, the kind that felt like it was trying to mend all the cracks inside you. Her embrace was hurried, forceful, and yet somehow tender, as if she’d been waiting forever for this moment. The scent of lavender clung to her, calming and nostalgic, and for a brief second, I let myself melt into the comfort she offered.

“Oh, Cal, my sweet boy.” Wade’s mum’s voice was soft yet brimming with emotion as she pulled back just enough to hold my face in her hands. Her piercing blue eyes shone with concern, and I felt myself shrink under the weight of her worry. “I’ve been so, so worried for you. Ever since I saw you fall, everything has been such a blur. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

Her grip tightened ever so slightly, as if anchoring me to her words. “I am just beyond happy Wade reached out and asked for my help. Knowing you were cooped up in that little loft all by yourself while Wade worked had me absolutely beside myself.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but she forged ahead with the determination of a woman on a mission. “But now, never you mind, sweet man, because I am going to take care of you. I’ve got Wade’s cottage all set up, and everything’s easy access. You won’t need to lift a finger.”

I could barely keep up as she continued, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “And don’t worry, we’ve got tons of craft ideas to keep you busy. I’ve been brainstorming for days—sewing, painting, maybe even some jewelry-making! I’ve got so much planned for you, darling, you won’t even know what the meaning of bored is.”

The sheer force of her care and attention was both overwhelming and endearing. I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded, letting her fuss over me like a hen with its favorite chick.

Finally, Wade’s mum let go, though it took a minute because she lingered with a soft pat to my cheek and a beaming smile that was impossible to shake off. No sooner had I managed to catch my breath than the rest of the siblings descended on me like a tidal wave of hugs and exuberance. Each one brought their own brand of warmth, and I was still adjusting to the sheer number of them when Wylie pulled me into a quick embrace.

He leaned in close, his chuckle warm and conspiratorial.

“Thank god you’re here,” he murmured. “There’s nothing Mum likes better than a project, and you, my man, are definitely her favorite distraction right now. She’s been so busy obsessing over the wedding—which you’ve already planned to perfection, by the way—that we were drowning in her motherly micromanaging.”

He pulled back, his grin lopsided and teasing. “So, consider this a sacrifice for the greater good. You’ll keep her occupied, and the rest of us can finally breathe. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. But man... good luck.”

The knowing glint in his eyes made me laugh despite myself, even as I felt Wade’s steadying hand on my lower back, a quiet reassurance that I wasn’t in this alone.

On that note, Wade stepped in like a human shield, moving in front of me with a protective air that immediately commanded attention. “All right, all right, okay, I get it,” he said, hands raised as if calming a particularly rowdy crowd. “Something new and sparkly, I know. But come on, we’ve all seen Cal before. Let’s give him some breathing room, yeah?”

He cast a pointed glance around the group, his voice firm but calm. “It’s been a long flight, and he needs to put his foot up. So here’s the plan—we’re going to the cottage, and we’re gonna have some alone time.” His emphasis on alone was impossible to miss, the weight behind it making even the boldest sibling back off a step. “Once we’ve settled in, we’ll come for dinner. Then you guys can ask your questions, share your stories, or whatever else you’re scheming. But for now, let us settle.”

He paused, his tone softening just a touch. “Let’s not scare him off, yeah? We all remember what happened last time.” His gaze flicked to a couple of sheepish faces. “Next thing you know, he’ll be in a taxi heading as far away as possible, and I really don’t want my boyfriend leaving me.”

The mix of humor and firmness in his voice had the desired effect. The siblings exchanged grins and rolled their eyes but backed off, murmuring various forms of agreement. Wade turned to me then, his protective stance softening into something warm and reassuring as he placed a hand on my back, guiding me toward the house. It was a small moment, but it felt like a fortress being built around me, one step at a time.