Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CALLUM
The rink is too bright for how little sleep I’ve had.
The cold air hits as soon as my blades touch the ice, and it helps, a little.
Sharp and clean is what I need. Something I can focus on.
Except every time I blink, I’m back on that sofa with Rose beneath me, her hands gripping my shoulders, the sound she made when I kissed down her neck.
My body is still running on that high and it’s a fucking miracle I’m skating straight.
Ryan glides past, spraying a wave of ice shavings into my legs. “You move like an eighty-year-old divorcee,” he says, grin wide. “Rough night?”
“Jealousy’s not a good look on you,” I shoot back, tapping his skate and making him wobble.
He cackles as Lukas glides up on my other side, studying me. “You look… charged,” he says.
“Charged?” I snort. “That your official medical opinion?”
But he just smirks, because he knows he’s right. I can feel it, that restless energy I can’t shake, a tight twist under my ribs. Rose has rewired something in me and nothing feels normal anymore.
Coach’s whistle shrieks and we launch into edge work.
Tight turns, stops so sharp they rattle my bones, pivots that burn through my thighs.
The focus narrows into the scrape of blades and the rhythmic pull of air.
But the second my brain has an inch to wander; I’m lost in her again.
Her laugh, her fingers sliding under my shirt, her breathy “Callum” against my mouth.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter to myself, nearly missing a transition.
“Oi!” Ryan yells mid-turn. “Thinking about your girlfriend?”
“She’s not—” I start.
Lukas smacks the back of my helmet as he passes. “You’re lying to yourself, mate.”
I almost trip. He grins proudly, the prick. And I don’t bother denying it again. We swing into quick-pass drills. Ryan and I battle for the puck. He slips, I steal, and I fire a shot so hard it rattles the frame of the net. My pulse is a drumline. My head is a mess.
“Someone’s pissed,” Ryan says, slowing near me.
“I’m fine.”
He gives me the kind of look only a teammate who sees way too much can. “Which is code for absolutely not fine.”
The break whistle blows and we coast to the bench, helmets off and breath puffing in cold clouds. I gulp down water like it’ll wash down the confusion in my chest. Lukas nudges me.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks.
I look around at the guys, the ice, the fluorescent lights reflecting off everything. The place I’ve spent half my life trying to prove something. And the truth hits. Rose makes me want to be better. Rose makes me feel I can be. “Better than okay,” I say. And I mean every syllable.
The massive rink doors slam open like a gunshot. Heels click against the concrete flooring, sharp, angry, and determined. I don’t even have to turn. My whole body reacts first, going rigid.
Talia.
She strides in as though she’s arriving on a red carpet, sunglasses and an attitude that can be seen from space. The security guy tries to stop her but she ignores him with a flick of her hand. Every Panther goes silent. Watching.
Ryan whispers, “Ohhh, shit.”
Lukas whistles low. “This’ll be fun.”
Coach looks as though he wants to retire on the spot.
Talia zeroes in on me, heels stabbing the ground with every furious step. She stops inches in front of me, ripping her sunglasses off like she expects applause. “You blocked me,” she snaps.
“I did,” my voice flat as the ice under us.
She laughs once, its sharp and humourless. “Cute. You can’t be serious about this breakup shit.”
“I’m serious.”
She scoffs, leaning in. “No, you’re not. You’re just having a tantrum. Is this about that photographer?”
Heat floods through me, not embarrassment, but anger. “Watch it.”
“Oh, please,” she spits. “You’re just proving a point. You’ll come back. You always do.”
I step back, choosing space because if I don’t, this becomes a spectacle. “There’s no ‘back.’ We’re done.”
That gets her attention. Her voice lifts, dramatic and echoing off every wall. “So who is she? Who’s got you pulling this pathetic stunt?”
Ryan and Lukas drift closer like guard dogs in expensive skates. The rest of the team shifts too, subtle but unified.
“She’s not a stunt,” I say. “She’s…” Mine, my heart whispers. The safest place I’ve ever rested. The only thing that feels real. But I’m not saying that here. “She’s good to me,” I say. “Better than you’ve been in a long time.”
Talia’s painted perfection cracks. “You think you’re some great catch now?” she hisses. “You think this girl won’t figure out what a disappointment you are?”
My fists curl. So do my teammates’.
“She calls herself a photographer,” she continues, loud and cruel. “But she’s a nobody with a guilty crush and a nervous giggle,”
“Enough.” My voice cuts through everything. “Do not talk about Rose.”
And that’s it. I’ve said her name. I’ve chosen a side. She sees it and she hates it.
“So there is a Rose,” she sneers. “How sweet. Does she know your best was never enough for me? That you’re clingy and needy and—”
“I’m done letting you tear me down.” My heartbeat is a steady roar now, unstoppable. “I’m done letting you control the narrative. I’m done, Talia. Full stop.”
She steps back as if I’ve slapped her. Her voice shakes and she tries to hide it with venom. “You’ll regret this.”
“No. I won’t.” I meet her eyes, steady and certain. “I already regret not ending us sooner.”
The silence that follows is heavier than any hit I’ve taken on the ice. She puts her sunglasses back on because she’s got nothing else left. Turning, she storms out, and the doors slam behind her so hard the boards rattle. The whole rink holds its breath.
Then Ryan says, “Well, that was dramatic.”
Lukas pats my shoulder. “Good on you, mate.”
Coach clears his throat, purposely loud. “Back to work! The soap opera is over.”
Except inside me, everything is still happening. I skate the next drills like my legs are fuelled by something primal and that instinct is crystal-clear.
Rose.
After practice, the locker room fills with steam and jokes as tape rolls fly like missiles. Ryan steals my towel until I threaten his future children. Lukas makes some comment about me smiling like a lovesick idiot. And yeah, maybe I am. Because the moment I sit to tie off my shoes, the door opens.
Rose stands there at the edge of the hall, strands of hair spilling out of her hat, camera bag slung over her shoulder, cheeks flushed pink from the cold. Her eyes find mine and soften instantly. My entire chest goes warm.
She gives a shy wave to a couple players. “Hi.”
Ryan straightens his hair, posing like a prat. “Hey there,”
I launch a roll of tape at his skull. “Don’t even think about it.”
He laughs, saluting her. “Take good care of him. He’s fragile.”
Rose smiles, tucking her hair back. “I’ll… try.”
God, she’s beautiful.
I walk up to her without hesitation, without fear of being watched, and rest my hand on the curve of her back. She leans into my touch as if she’s been waiting for it. Something inside me clicks into place. Permanent.
“You ready?” I ask.
She nods, eyes bright. “Always.”
The lads whistle and mutter behind us as we walk out, but I don’t look back.
When we hit the corridor, she brushes her fingers against mine, it’s a barely-there touch that ruins me completely, and I take her hand properly.
She smiles, its soft but there. I’m not looking over my shoulder anymore.
I’m not doubting or apologising for wanting something good.
If Talia tries again, she’ll learn fast. I don’t let go of what matters. I don’t let go of her.
Not now. Not ever.