Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ROSE
The knock on my door comes at eight in the morning, sharp and sure.
Nobody in this building knocks that hard.
Most of my neighbours barely knock at all, but the second I hear it, my stomach flips.
Callum. It’s ridiculous how quickly I’m on my feet, tugging my oversized hoodie straight and running a hand through my hair.
I open the door, and there he is, filling the frame like the universe finally remembered to give me something good.
He looks annoyingly handsome for someone who’s been awake only a short while.
He’s wearing his training gear; black joggers and a navy hoodie, his hair is still damp from the shower, and he’s holding a takeout coffee cup in each hand.
His eyes soften the second he sees me. “Morning, freckles.” The smile he’s sporting is mesmerising, and the dimples in his cheeks do something very strange to my insides.
My chest warms traitorously. “You’re here early.”
“I wanted to see you before practice.” He glances past me into the hallway, taking in the peeling paint and flickering lightbulb, and the faint scent of someone cooking questionable eggs.
Student living is just the best. Not. His jaw tightens, but not in a judgmental way.
More concerned. Protective. The kind of protective that should bother me but somehow doesn’t.
“Also,” he adds, lifting the coffee slightly in offering, “you left your charger in my flat. So technically I’m returning lost property.”
“You absolutely did not need to drive across the city at eight a.m. to return a charger.”
“Maybe,” he says, stepping inside when I move back. “But I wanted to.” He leans down and kisses me gently. “Morning, by the way.”
I reach up on tiptoes and kiss him again, because I can. “Morning,”
The flat feels smaller with him in it, but in a good way. His presence fills the space and makes the walls feel less thin. He even makes the pile of textbooks and cheap furniture matter a little less. He watches me sip my coffee, eyes warm, and something inside me loosens.
“I can take you to uni,” he says simply. “I’ve got to be at the rink by nine-thirty. It’s on the way.”
“It’s not,” I point out, smiling. “This building is out of the way for literally everyone.”
He shrugs. “Then I’ll go out of my way.”
It shouldn’t hit me the way it does. I grab my bag while he waits by the door, hands in his pockets, shoulders filling out his hoodie in a way that’s very distracting at this hour.
When I return, he’s looking at his phone, scrolling through his hockey fan sites and all the social media tags.
His eyebrows lift slightly. “She posted again.”
Heat rushes to my face. “I haven’t looked. I didn’t want you to think I was stalking her or anything stupid like that…”
“Hey.” He steps closer, gently turning my face toward him with one knuckle under my chin. “I’m not mad. I just… wish you hadn’t seen it before I did.”
“It’s fine,” I lie.
He gives me one of those looks that is steady, perceptive, and annoyingly accurate. “No, it’s not. And for the record, I don’t want you dealing with her mess alone.”
I swallow hard. “It’s just shade. Nothing direct.”
He huffs, frustrated. “Subtle shade is still shade when it’s intentional.”
“Callum…”
“I know,” he cuts in, voice softening. “I’m not here to make it worse. I just want to be clear about something.”
“What?”
His fingers slide to my jaw, warm and certain, before his hand moves and settles on the back of my neck.
His fingers tangle in my hair as he angles my face towards him.
“You’re the one I want. Not her. Not anymore.
I don’t care what she posts, or what people say, or how messy it looks from the outside.
I’m with you. You’re mine, Rose. And I’m yours. That’s not changing.”
The words hit like heat and gravity at once, pulling me toward him, before I realise I’m moving. He kisses me gently again, as if he’s trying not to push, and he’s giving me space to breathe. But the moment his mouth brushes mine, everything becomes electric.
I breathe against his lips, “You’d better take me to uni before I climb you like a tree.”
He laughs, low and warm. “That’s a threat I’m willing to risk.”
The car ride is gentle in that way early mornings sometimes are.
A little sleepy, a little fragile. His hand finds mine over the centre console, his thumb brushing the inside of my wrist like he’s memorising the rhythm of my pulse.
We don’t talk much, but it doesn’t feel awkward.
It feels like understanding and so much more.
When he pulls up outside campus, he puts the car in park but doesn’t let go of my hand. “I’ll pick you up after practice,” he says, as though it’s already decided.
“You don’t have to. I can get the bus.”
“You could,” he nods. “Or I could pick you up. I want to see you. That okay?”
The certainty in his voice and the way he leaves space for me to say no, does something to me. Something warm and dangerous. “Yeah. Pick me up.”
He smiles, and then he’s leaning in to kiss me again. It’s quick but firm, a promise pressed to my mouth. When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against mine.
“If she posts anything else,” he murmurs, “tell me. I don’t check her socials so I won’t see it unless she tags me again. I don’t want you handling any of that alone.”
I hesitate. “I don’t want to drag you into drama, she’ll get bored if you carry on ignoring her.”
“You’re not dragging me anywhere,” he says. “I’m choosing to be in it with you.”
The words settle deep.
I pull away reluctantly. “Go. You’ll be late.”
“Worth it.” He squeezes my hand once more before letting go.
He waits until I’m fully inside the building before driving off. And when I take the stairs to my lecture, two floors up, I realise my chest feels lighter. Like something unclenched.
But that peace doesn’t last long.
By midday, my phone buzzes with another notification. Another post. Another curated little dagger from Talia. This time, it’s a throwback from a Panthers charity gala, with her arm looped through his.
Funny how some people confuse attention with affection.
No names. No tags. Nothing directly aimed at me.
But it doesn’t have to be. I see my own photo liked by a handful of new strangers; girls from the fandom. A few comments. Little barbs laced with fake niceness.
Meanwhile, you’re just… there. Some girls will settle for being second choice.
I close the app, palms sweating. I tell myself it doesn’t matter, but it absolutely does. And my heart sinks. By the time my lecture ends, my stomach is in my shoes. When Callum texts thirty minutes later my breath catches in relief.
Cal: Out front. Take your time.
He’s leaning against his car when I step outside of the building, his hair is damp with drizzle, and hands tucked in his pockets. When he sees my face, his expression sharpens instantly.
“Rose?”
I shake my head quickly, forcing a smile. “Long day. That’s all.”
He doesn’t buy it. The muscle in his jaw ticks. “Get in. Please.”
Once I’m inside his car and the doors are shut, the world softens again. He doesn’t drive off immediately, he just watches me, with his brow furrowed. “Did she post again?” I swallow and he sighs softly. “Show me.”
I hesitate only a second before handing him my phone. His brows pull together as he scrolls. Then he goes still. Completely still. “Of course she did,” he mutters. “Christ, Talia…”
I open my mouth, but he beats me to it.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says firmly. “You hear me? None of this is your fault.”
“I know, I just—”
“No.” His voice drops. “I mean it.”
I look at him and see the frustration simmering under the controlled surface. I see the softness he uses only on me, and the way his hand instinctively finds my thigh, grounding me.
“It’s subtle on purpose,” he says. “It’s designed to get under your skin without making her look unhinged. Classic PR-maintained toxicity.”
I blink. “That’s incredibly specific.”
He huffs. “I dated her for two years. Believe me, I recognise the pattern.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t want to be in the middle of this. I don’t want to be the reason for any bad press or be accused of breaking up hockey’s golden couple.”
“You won’t be.” He turns fully in his seat, his knee brushing mine, his voice steady and sure.
“I’m handling it. I’m speaking to Laura in PR tomorrow.
And to the coaches. I’m shutting this down.
And as far as being the ‘golden couple’ goes, that’s just media bullshit.
It is not a true representation of my life over the last two years. ”
I inhale slowly. “What if she gets worse?”
“Then she gets exposed,” he says simply. “But you? You don’t get touched by this. I won’t let her pull you into her mess.”
It’s protective. It’s fierce. But it’s also incredibly comforting. I feel myself lean toward him without meaning to. His hand comes up to cradle my jaw, thumb brushing my cheekbone.
“You okay?” he whispers.
I nod. “Now I am.”
He kisses me then, with a sort of intensity that feels like a vow. When he pulls back, breathing a little harder, he presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. “You’re not a second choice,” he says. “You’re the choice. My choice.”
My breath stutters. “Callum…”
“I’m all in, Rose. I’m not going anywhere.”
The words settle through me, heavy and warm, and terrifying and perfect.
We drive in comfortable silence until he asks, almost shyly, “Stay with me tonight?”
I don’t even hesitate. “Yeah. I will.”
His fingers lace with mine on the drive home, and even though the storm is building outside the car, I feel like I’m somewhere safe.
Somewhere chosen. Somewhere he is.