Chapter 23
You Think Being in Love Is
"I should probably let you get back to dinner." The words leave my mouth softly enough. Still, I watch them hit Calder like something physical. His entire expression tightens.
"Arabella..."
"It's okay." Another lie. I'm getting very good at them tonight.
Around us the dinner continues normally.
Glasses clink softly. Somebody laughs near the sponsor tables.
A server passes carrying another tray of champagne.
The normalcy of it feels surreal now. Because standing here beside Calder suddenly feels completely different than it did an hour ago.
Still emotional somehow. Just heavier. Like I can finally see the shape of something I kept trying very hard not to look at directly.
Calder glances around the room again. Instinctive. Automatic. Always checking, always aware. The movement lands quietly beneath my ribs. Fear sitting visibly beneath his skin. He looks terrified of what loving me publicly might cost. The distinction should matter more than it does.
"Do you want to sit down?" he asks carefully.
Every word from him sounds careful tonight. Measured. Controlled. Overthought. Like he's trying to fix this while still managing how visible we are at the same time.
I look toward the tables properly. Couples everywhere.
Teammates leaning naturally into wives and girlfriends.
Hands resting casually against backs. Easy public intimacy nobody even notices because nobody thinks twice about it.
Calder and I have never looked like that publicly.
Not once. Even after everything. He still hasn't touched me again.
Not since he dropped his hand from my arm after I told him about Worlds. The absence feels enormous now.
"I don't want to interrupt," I say quietly.
"You're not interrupting." The response comes too fast. Too sharp.
Real. For one brief second emotion cracks visibly through the restraint again.
Calder steps slightly closer before he can stop himself.
Then stops himself again. The movement nearly destroys me because now I notice every single moment instinct loses to fear. And there are so many of them.
A coach walks past us toward the bar area. Calder shifts reflexively to make space between us. Tiny adjustment. Still enough that something cold settles into my ribs. The feeling isn't humiliation anymore. Something sadder. Like emotional exhaustion arriving all at once.
I can see it constantly. In every unconscious movement he keeps killing halfway through. Every look. Every almost-touch. Every flash of softness buried beneath panic before it can fully land. The love is real. The fear is just becoming louder.
"You should stay," Calder says quietly. His eyes stay fixed on me now. Earnest. Tight with tension. Like he can feel this slipping somewhere he doesn't know how to stop. "I want you here."
The sentence cracks something open inside my chest. Because I believe him. That's the problem. If Calder were lying to me, this would be easier. Instead he keeps saying things that sound like love while behaving like love is dangerous. The contradiction is starting to hollow me out from the inside.
A sponsor near the end of the table waves Calder over. "Hayes! Come settle an argument for us."
Calder closes his eyes briefly. Frustration flashes visibly across his face. Then he looks back at me. Torn. Actually torn. Like every choice tonight feels wrong no matter which direction he moves.
Eventually Calder leads me outside. Not dramatically. Just quietly. One hand hovering at my back without quite touching me while he guides me through the restaurant toward a side patio overlooking the city. The absence of contact feels louder than touch would have.
Cold night air hits my skin. The noise from inside dulls behind the closed glass doors.
For a few seconds neither of us speaks. Calder braces both hands against the railing, jaw tight, shoulders rigid beneath his dress shirt.
I stand beside him watching traffic lights blur far away while my pulse slowly settles into something heavier. More exhausted than hurt now.
Calder exhales sharply through his nose. "I'm trying to fix this."
The words come out rough. Like he's been holding them inside since the second I walked into the restaurant. I look at him quietly. Because the worst part is that I know he means it. Calder turns toward me finally. Tension radiates visibly off him.
"You showing up tonight just..." He drags one hand through his hair roughly. "It made me realize how out of control this is getting."
Something twists painfully beneath my ribs. This right here. The language of it. Out of control. He talks about us like something dangerous to manage instead of something to feel. I stay quiet anyway. Calder mistakes the silence for permission to continue.
"The articles are getting worse," he says.
"People are watching everything now. The league.
Sponsors. Your federation probably too." His eyes flick briefly toward the restaurant windows again.
Still monitoring. Still calculating. "I don't want this becoming some media circus that screws things up for you. "
The sentence lands in my chest. "The dinner tonight," he continues carefully, "that's exactly the kind of thing I mean. People talk. Stories spread. Suddenly everything becomes about us instead of hockey or skating."
The word sounds fragile in his mouth now, like even saying it openly costs him something. I fold my arms tighter across my chest against the cold. Or maybe against the ache slowly spreading through me.
"You think I'm a distraction." The words leave quietly. More exhausted than angry.
Calder reacts instantly. "No." Too fast. Too sharp.
His body reacts before restraint catches him again.
"That's not what I mean." But it is. Maybe not fully.
Maybe not cruelly. Still enough. I can see him trying to untangle the difference in his own head.
Pressure. Visibility. Focus. Control. Fear threaded through every sentence whether he realizes it or not.
"I just think maybe we need to be smarter about this," he says finally.
Smarter. The word settles cold and heavy into my stomach. Calder keeps talking before I can respond.
"You made Worlds, Arabella." His voice roughens slightly. "Everything gets bigger now. Media. Interviews. Attention." His eyes lock onto mine. "And if this keeps escalating..." He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't need to. I hear the rest anyway.
Someone gets distracted. Someone loses focus. Someone becomes the story instead of the athlete.
For a while I just stand there listening to traffic, distant sirens, wind pushing softly across the patio. Calder waits beside me tense enough that I can feel it without touching him. Like he's already braced for impact.
"Oh." The sound barely leaves my mouth. Calder's expression tightens.
"Arabella..."
"No." I shake my head once slowly. "I get it now.
" And I do. That's the horrible part. I understand him perfectly.
Calder watches me carefully while I stare out over the city lights instead of at him.
Because if I look directly at him right now, I think this might actually break something open inside me.
"You don't think I'm a distraction," I say quietly. Calder exhales softly beside me like he's relieved I finally understand. The reaction hurts. "You think being in love is."
The silence that follows is complete and devastating. I feel Calder go completely still beside me.
"I kept thinking you were afraid of attention," I say softly. My voice sounds distant even to me now. "But that's not really it."
Calder says nothing, which somehow confirms everything harder than words could. I look at him finally. And God. The panic on his face nearly undoes me. Because he knows I see it now. Really see it.
"You're afraid of what happens when loving someone matters more than staying in control."
The words settle between us quietly. Calder looks wrecked hearing them out loud. Like some part of him desperately wants to deny it while already knowing he can't.
"I'm trying to protect this," he says roughly. Not us. This. The relationship. The careers. The pressure. Something dangerous if it grows too visible.
For a long time neither of us speaks. The silence feels exhausted.
Heavy with too many things both of us already understand now.
Calder still watches me like he's trying to calculate the exact point where this started slipping beyond his control.
I wrap my arms tighter around myself against the cold. Or maybe against him.
"I kept telling myself it wasn't that bad," I admit quietly.
Calder's expression shifts instantly. Pain. Guilt. Panic all surfacing at once. "Arabella..."
"No, let me finish." My voice doesn't rise.
That somehow makes everything feel sadder.
"I understood the media stuff. I understood the pressure.
I understood why you were nervous after Nationals.
" Every word feels calm. Careful. Like I'm handling something fragile with my bare hands.
"But I kept waiting for it to stop feeling temporary. "
Calder goes completely still. I can actually see it happen — the understanding arriving before I even finish speaking.
"I thought eventually you'd stop looking scared every time somebody noticed us," I continue softly. "Or every time you wanted to touch me in public."
My throat tightens unexpectedly. Because God.
There were so many moments. The aborted touches.
The hesitation. The constant checking for reactions before instinct could fully land.
I swallowed every single one because I loved him enough to keep understanding.
And somewhere along the way, understanding started costing me pieces of myself.