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

45. WADE

WADE

Honey Eyes and Second Chances

I stood outside the hotel, the weight of the past twenty-four hours pressing down on me like the crushing heft of a full wine barrel—unyielding and unbearable. One flight to Vancouver, only to discover my Pretty Boy was in Edmonton, meant scrambling for yet another flight—during playoffs, no less. Now, hours later, at some ungodly hour, I was here, exhausted and still wondering where the hell he could be.

My phone buzzed incessantly in my pocket, but I ignored it, my focus glued to the screen in my hand. The blinking icon on the "Find My Laptop" app hadn’t moved all night. It was still here, in Edmonton, but Cal? I had no idea where he was. The hotel staff had already rung the room and no one was inside, so there I sat in the lobby waiting. The receptionist’s weary glances hadn’t gone unnoticed either. I was loitering. Hell, they even asked me to leave once the night shift rolled over to morning.

So that’s how I ended up pacing outside, the early sunlight casting long shadows on the pavement as the city began to stir. My knee throbbed with every step, a dull ache from hours of walking and little sleep, but I couldn’t stop moving. Stopping meant thinking, and thinking led to imagining the worst. Cal walking away from me. Cal hurting, alone. The fear churned in my gut, sour and relentless.

I called Tyler again, my voice hoarse. “Anything?”

“No, man,” Tyler replied, his voice filled with frustration and concern. “He was at the game. I saw him. But he left before I could get to him. Hunter hasn’t heard from him either.”

My grip tightened around my phone. “Keep trying. If he calls, let me know.”

“I will,” Tyler promised, but it did little to ease the knot in my chest.

My family, scattered across other hotels, had called me every hour, asking for updates I couldn’t give. And now, standing here in the early light, I felt as lost as ever.

Then, a black Range Rover pulled into the driveway.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I watched the passenger door open. Cal stepped out, dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, his hair tousled, shadows etched under his eyes. Relief washed over me like a wave, but it was short-lived. My gaze shifted to the other door as it opened, and another man climbed out.

He was taller than Cal, broader, with the same honey-brown eyes and sharp jawline. He looked like an older version of Cal—features aged by time and life. The resemblance was unmistakable, and my stomach twisted as I realized who he had to be.

Cal turned toward the man, and they exchanged a few words, their body language intimate but reserved. Then, Cal’s gaze swept toward me. The moment his eyes locked on mine, his steps faltered. His mouth parted slightly, surprise flashing across his face.

I couldn’t move. My heart was hammering so loudly it drowned out the sound of the world around me. The older man must have said something because Cal glanced back at him, his hand tugging nervously at the hem of his hoodie. Then, together, they walked toward me, The air between us thickened, charged with everything left unsaid.

When they were close enough, Cal stopped a few feet away, his voice hesitant but steady. “Wade. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, pretty boy,” I said, my voice low and raw with emotion.

Cal swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he cast a quick glance at the man beside him before looking back at me. “How… how did you even find me?”

“The laptop,” I replied simply, holding up my phone.

“Ah,” he said softly, his lips pulling into a tight, almost embarrassed line.

The older man shifted slightly, drawing my attention. He stepped forward, his expression calm but curious. “And who’s this?” he asked, his voice deep and measured, carrying the weight of someone used to being in control.

Cal hesitated for a moment before gesturing between us. “Kaine, this is Wade. Wade, this is Kaine Breecher… my father.”

The words hung in the air. My heart ached for Cal, for the years of pain and uncertainty that had led him here. I glanced at Kaine, taking in the subtle lines of his face, the way his eyes softened as they flickered back to Cal.

“You found him,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Cal nodded, his shoulders trembling as he fought to hold back tears. “I did,” he whispered.

I didn’t hesitate, I closed the gap between us, and wrapped him in my arms, holding him tightly against me. He stiffened for a moment before collapsing into the embrace, his hands clutching at my back like a lifeline.

“That’s so great, pretty boy,” I murmured, my voice breaking as I pressed my lips to the top of his head. “You deserve this. You deserve all the love in the world, all the family you’ve ever needed.”

Kaine cleared his throat, his voice steady but filled with quiet conviction. “And I’ll make sure he gets it,” he said. “I promise, I won’t make the same mistakes as his mother.”

I lifted my head, meeting Kaine’s gaze. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his eyes, but I still gave him a look that said everything I couldn’t put into words. If he hurt Cal, if he broke the fragile hope his son was just starting to rebuild, there would be consequences.

Cal pulled back slightly, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. His gaze shifted between us, his lips quivering as he tried to speak. “This is… a lot,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “Can we just… go somewhere quiet?”

A quiet moment stretched between us, brimming with unasked questions.

Kaine cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “It looks like you two have a lot to talk about,” he said, his voice steady but kind. “I’ll head out for now, but Cal”—he looked at his son with a softness—“call me when you’re ready.”

Cal nodded, his throat bobbing. “Thanks,” he whispered.

Kaine gave me a small nod, a silent message I couldn’t quite decipher, before heading back to the car. I watched him drive off, the Range Rover disappearing around the corner, before turning back to Cal.

“Do you want to go inside?” I asked, keeping my voice gentle.

He hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the zipper of his hoodie, before giving me a small nod. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I followed him into the hotel, up to his room. The silence between us was deafening, but I didn’t push. Not yet. Not until he was ready. When we stepped into his room, he dropped his bag by the door and sank onto the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumping.

I sat down in the chair across from him, giving him space but keeping my gaze steady. “I’ve missed you,” I said softly, breaking the silence.

His laugh was hollow, bitter. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

"Well, selfishly, I’d love it if you said you missed me back," I said, my voice softer than I intended, sitting on the couch with my hands fidgeting as much as his. "But I understand if you don’t."

Cal let out a shaky laugh, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Is that an admission of guilt?” he asked, but the bite was missing from his voice. He wasn’t fighting, not really. He was trying to protect himself.

I looked up, the exhaustion of the last few hours clawing at me, but the fight in me refused to back down.

“Cal, I never cheated on you,” I said, my voice firm but filled with raw honesty. “There’s no one else but you. Danton caught me by surprise, and I froze. Fuck, I’ve fought in war better than I handled that moment. I was never with him after the engagement, I was with my family fessing up the lie. Then I got my suit and headed home. I haven’t texted him since the moment I moved to Vancouver. Hence my babbling shock.” I ran a hand through my hair, my frustration evident. “But when I saw your face—God, Cal, I panicked. You were withdrawing, and before I could get the words out, you were gone. He orchestrated the whole damn thing.”

Cal nodded slowly, his gaze on the floor, and I tried to temper the hope threatening to rise in my chest. A nod wasn’t belief. It wasn’t trust. And I didn’t know how to make him believe me.

“What do I need to do?” I asked, my voice breaking slightly. “I can show you my phone, anything. Please.”

His gaze lifted to mine, and the vulnerability there hit me like a sledgehammer. Instead he shocked me, “I was a fool for running,” he said quietly, his tone laced with regret. “It just… it hit home. You don’t know how many times I’ve walked in on an ex cheating on me—it’s borderline embarrassing.” He let out a bitter laugh. “So seeing that—I just couldn’t be there, you know? And I did the only thing I’ve ever been good at when things fall apart. I ran, even though I knew something was off.”

“Cal—” I started, but he held up a hand, cutting me off.

“And running… it wasn’t just about you,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “I thought—if my father really did want me, if he really had searched for me… then at least someone did. Someone, somewhere, might have loved me enough to stick around.”

My heart splintered open, his voice carrying a pain so profound it echoed through me, each word sharp and unyielding.

“He did, Cal,” I said, leaning forward, my hands gripping my knees to stop from reaching for him, from smothering him with the desperation I felt. “I don’t doubt it for a second. Of course he did. How could he not?”

Cal’s lip trembled as he met my gaze. “He did, Wade. He searched for me. He wanted me—wants me in his life.”

I nodded, feeling my heart coil at how he doubted it, how he didn’t see what I saw. “Of course he does,” I whispered, “I know exactly what that feels like, Cal. Because I know what life is like with you in it, and nothing—not the finest wine, not the best sunset—nothing compares to that.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, we sat in silence, the air thick with everything unsaid. Then, slowly, hesitantly, Cal reached out, his fingers brushing mine. The small gesture made my chest ache with hope.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

I clasped his hand, holding it tight, as if letting go would undo everything. “And I missed you, pretty boy. More than you’ll ever know.”

When Cal finally closed the distance between us, I expected words—sharp or soft, I didn’t know—but not what he did next. Without hesitation, he climbed onto the couch, straddling my lap in one smooth motion. His hands trembled as they settled on my shoulders, his nose burying itself in the crook of my neck like he was trying to disappear into me.

For a moment, I froze, caught off guard by the rawness of it—the way he clung to me, desperate and unguarded. But then my arms moved on their own, pulling him close, holding him as if letting go wasn’t an option. His body softened against mine, fitting there like he’d always belonged.

I exhaled shakily, pressing my lips to his temple. His scent—warm, familiar, laced with the faintest trace of cologne—washed over me, hitting harder than it should.

“Pretty boy,” I murmured, my voice unsteady. “You’re here.”

He nodded against my shoulder, his breath hot against my neck, and I felt the tremor that rippled through him. “Don’t let me go,” he whispered, the words muffled, strained, like he’d been holding them in for far too long.

“Never,” I said firmly, my grip tightening as my hands settled across his back, holding him closer still. “You’re not running again, Cal. Not this time. Not if I can stop it.”

His fingers curled into my shirt, clutching at it as though letting go would send him tumbling into some abyss.

Little did he know that letting go wasn’t an option. It was us, it always was, and I think—I hoped he knew that and would finally stop running.