Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CALLUM
Sleep doesn’t come.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her. The café light catching the auburn highlights in her hair. The way she saw right through all the bullshit, and still didn’t flinch. It’s stupid. One coffee. One morning. But it’s been years since anything felt that easy. Now it’s all I can think about.
The clock on my bedside table blinks 5:47 a.m. The team flat that Coach cleared for me to use is quiet and clean without Talia’s perfume clouding the air or her phone buzzing with notifications.
I should feel free. Instead, I feel as though I’ve torn out a piece of my life and left it bleeding on the floor.
I drag myself up, pull on a hoodie, and stare out at the half-light creeping across the city.
Rain still streaks the window; it’s the same cold drizzle that’s been following me all week.
Fitting, really. The kind of weather that seeps in and settles.
Talia’s words keep echoing in my head from the night I left.
“You’ll regret this, Cal. You’re walking away from everything.
” She said it like I was quitting a sponsorship deal, not ending a relationship.
As if I was breaking a brand, not a life.
I didn’t argue. Didn’t try to defend myself.
There was no point. She’d already made up her version of the story.
And yet, even knowing it was the right thing, I can’t shake the guilt. Not because of her but because of Rose. Because somewhere along the line, my reason for leaving stopped being about what I didn’t want and started being about what I couldn’t stop wanting.
By the time I make it to the rink, the place is humming with early-morning energy. Music thuds low from the locker room, someone’s blasting out Arctic Monkeys. The smell of coffee, sweat, and fresh ice fills the air; home, in its own brutal way.
Brennan’s already there, a man on a mission, stick in hand. Ryan’s at his stall taping his blade, humming off-key, while the new kid, Lukas Devereux, is sitting cross-legged on the floor, wrestling with his laces.
“Morning, sunshine,” Ryan calls as I step in. “You look like hell. Rough night?”
“Didn’t sleep,” I mutter, tossing my bag onto the bench.
Ryan grins. “Finally realised Talia’s too much work?”
Brennan shoots him a look. “Ease up.”
But I just shake my head. “We’re done.”
The words come out flat, final. There’s a beat of silence, and then Ryan whistles low. “Bloody hell. You serious?”
“Deadly,” I mutter, stripping off my hoodie and pulling on my practice top. “Packed my stuff and left last night.”
Brennan leans his stick against the wall. “Good for you,” he says, calm but sincere. “That wasn’t working, mate. Everyone could see it.”
Ryan smirks. “Aye, we were taking bets on when you’d finally grow a backbone.”
I give him a look, but there’s no actual heat behind it. “Cheers for the support.”
Lukas looks up from his skates, accent soft but unmistakably Quebecois. “You broke up with the influencer girl?”
“Yeah.”
He grins, but it’s the kind of grin that’s all mischief and no malice. “Good move, man. That one scared me. Always filming everything.”
Ryan laughs. “That’s because you’re a puppy, rookie. Wait till you date one yourself.”
Lukas grins wider. “Not my style. I like girls who don’t need a filter. Someone who knows who she is without all the noise.”
I freeze for half a second too long before forcing a chuckle. “Yeah,” I agree. “Me too.”
“Ice. Now!” Coach yells across the room and we all hustle.
Training hits hard. Coach Byrne’s in one of his moods, barking orders as if we’re back in juniors. “Move your arse, Fraser! You think the puck’s gonna wait for you? Again!”
I push harder, lungs burning, blades biting deep into the ice.
Every turn, every sprint becomes a punishment, and maybe that’s what I’m chasing.
Punishment. Because every time I breathe, I see Rose again.
Sitting in that café, smiling at me over her mug, telling me I didn’t owe anyone a version of myself I didn’t recognise.
It shouldn’t have meant as much as it did.
The whistle cuts through the air. “Neutral zone transition! Let’s go!”
We line up, five across. Brennan shouts the play, Ryan drops the puck, and I take off down the wing, stick low, mind blank until Lukas, skating opposite, bodies me off the puck clean.
“Christ, rookie,” I growl, spinning to chase him.
He grins over his shoulder. “Gotta keep you sharp, old man.”
Ryan cackles as he follows up behind. “You getting shown up by the kid now, Cal?”
“Shut it.” I slash the puck back from Lukas, send it flying to Brennan, and slam a shot into the boards as the whistle blows again.
Coach skates over, jaw tight. “You call that focus, Fraser?”
“I’m fine,” I snap, breath ragged.
“Doesn’t look fine. Can you get your head in the game and over the ex-girlfriend, or do I have to bench you until you remember why you’re here?”
The room goes silent as the echo of his voice carries. I drop my gaze, chest heaving. “No, Coach.”
He studies me a beat longer than necessary, then blows the whistle again. “Reset! Five more drills. Earn your ice.”
Brennan glides past, murmuring low enough only I can hear. “Sort your head out, mate. You’re too good to waste it on whatever’s haunting you. Which I’m guessing is Talia.”
I don’t answer. I just skate until my lungs burn.
By the end of practice, I’m drenched. The locker room fills with laughter again and the hiss of showers, then Ryan’s playlist kicks back in and everyone starts vibing. Lukas collapses on the bench beside me, hair dripping. “Coach nearly murdered you out there, eh?”
“Nearly.”
He grins. “You skate as if you’ve got something to prove.”
“Maybe I do.”
He studies me a moment, then shrugs. “That’s not a bad thing. Just make sure you’re proving it to yourself, not someone else.”
It’s the kind of line that shouldn’t hit as hard as it does, but I feel it right in my ribs.
Ryan tosses a towel at Lukas’s head. “Don’t go getting philosophical, rookie. Leave the midlife crisis to Cal.”
Brennan’s voice cuts through the noise. “Oi, enough. We’re grabbing lunch before media. You in, Cal?”
“Maybe next time.”
Ryan frowns. “You sure? You’ve been ghosting us lately.”
“I’m good.” I tug on my hoodie, shove my gear into my bag. “See you tomorrow.”
Brennan watches me for a long moment but doesn’t push. He just nods once. “Take it easy, mate.”
The drive back to the flat feels longer than usual. Grey sky pressing down, the road slick with rain. It’s oppressive. My phone buzzes once in the passenger seat. I glance at it, and my chest stutters.
Rose: Hope training wasn’t too brutal today. PR said they’re posting the shots next week. They looked good in the draft.
I pull into a side street and just sit there, staring at the message. She didn’t need to text. She could’ve gone through Laura, the PR manager. She chose to message me directly, that has to mean something.
My thumbs hover over the screen.
They look great. You’ve got a hell of an eye.
Too much.
Thanks for letting me know.
Too cold.
I finally settle on something simple.
CAL: You made us look better than we are. Appreciate it.
It’s safe, professional, but the moment I hit send, my pulse jumps anyway.
She replies a minute later.
ROSE: Maybe you’re just better than you think.
That’s it. One simple line. But it undoes me completely. After giving my head a shake, I pull out of the side street and head back to the flat.
That night, I can’t focus on anything. The flat feels too clinical.
It’s the place we house any new players from out of the area.
Lukas was here for a few months until he found somewhere to rent, I know I need to be out of here sooner than that.
I can’t live like this. Every room is a blank canvas, no personal items, no scattered belongs, it’s a reflection of my life right now.
The life I want to move away from. I try to watch a game replay, but I end up staring at the screen without taking in a second of it.
There’s an emptiness where Talia used to be, not her, but the noise she made, the distraction. Now, with the silence, there’s nothing left to hide behind. Just me and the truth I’ve been avoiding.
I want Rose.
Not in the shallow, easy way I wanted Talia, the kind that looks good on camera and is good for my image, as bad as that sounds. This is different. This is slow, dangerous, and feels inevitable.
I think about how she listened, how she didn’t look away when I told her things I’ve never said out loud.
She made me feel I wasn’t beyond saving.
I’ve spent so long pretending to be the man everyone wanted; the charming player, the media-friendly smile, the nice guy who keeps his head down. Rose sees right through that.
And maybe that’s what terrifies me most.
The next morning, Brennan corners me outside the weight room. “You’re off your game, Fraser. Not just on the ice.”
I grab a towel from the rack. “I’m fine.”
He folds his arms. “You’re not. You’ve been somewhere else for weeks. You want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Then fix it. Because the team needs you sharp. I need you sharp.”
There’s no judgement in his tone, just honesty. I nod once. “Yeah. I’ll get there.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Good. And hey, whatever it is, don’t let it eat you alive.”
In the gym later, Ryan and Lukas are messing around, racing sprints on the rowers. Lukas’s shouting encouragement in French, Ryan’s laughing so hard he nearly falls off. It’s madness, the kind of easy camaraderie that reminds me why I love this game.
Luke catches my eye. “Come on, vet. You scared of losing to the new kid?”
“Scared? No. Just don’t want to make you cry on your second week.”
Ryan whoops. “That’s a challenge if I ever heard one.”
I roll my shoulders, sit down on the rower next to Lukas. “Two hundred metres. Loser buys post-practice protein shakes.”
Lukas grins. “Deal.”
Coach walks by just as we start, muttering something about idiots, but he doesn’t stop us. The two of us push hard, muscles burning, breath ragged, and for the first time all week, my head actually clears.
Luke edges me out by half a second, throwing his arms up in triumph. “Rookie wins!”
Ryan groans dramatically. “God help us all.”
I’m laughing, actually laughing, and it feels good.
Luke leans over, grinning. “Told you I’d keep you sharp.”
I grin back, breathless. “Don’t get cocky.”
That night, I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, phone on the pillow beside me. Rose’s message from earlier still glows on the screen.
Maybe you’re just better than you think.
I want to believe her. I want to be that guy.
But I’m still the one who caused her accident.
Still the one lying to her every time I look at her.
And that’s the thing about wanting something this badly.
It doesn’t matter how much you know it’ll burn you in the end.
You reach for it anyway. Because for now, I can see a version of my life that feels real.