Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CALLUM
Iknow I shouldn’t be refreshing my phone before I’ve even stepped out of my car, but the notification banners are everywhere.
Talia’s posts. Again. Same game, new angle.
More comments, more speculation, more people tagging Rose, like they’ve sniffed out blood in the water and want to see how deep it runs.
My stomach feels tight, that familiar twist of dread that hasn’t let up since all this started.
It’s not just the drama, it’s the sickening worry that any of this could push Rose away.
Or worse, that something else will. Something she doesn’t know. Something she can’t know yet.
Walking into the rink feels like crossing into a storm. The air’s colder, sharper, and even though the lads yell out greetings, something sits wrong under it all. Eyes flick toward me, conversations pause, and I can feel the weight of it; they’ve all seen the posts.
Lukas is the first to get to me. Of course it’s him. He’s got that look on his face. The one that says he’s already laughing at me before I’ve opened my mouth.
“Morning, lover boy,” he drawls, skating past while I’m still tying my laces. “You might want to check the Panthers’ fan pages. Talia’s having a meltdown. Again.”
I glare up at him. “I already did.”
Ryan skates over next, snorting. “Mate, I told you she’d lose it when you started bringing Rose around. This is tame compared to what she’s capable of.”
I don’t want to hear it. My jaw tightens, and I shove my helmet on harder than necessary. “Drop it.”
But they don’t. It’s in the way Lukas bumps my shoulder a little too deliberately in drills.
Ryan keeps glancing at me as though he’s waiting for a fuse to hit flame.
Half the team skates past and throws me that sideways sympathy look that makes me want to break something.
Coach sees it too. He doesn’t say a word but he watches me carefully the way he always does when I’m holding tension in my body.
He knows how fast that can go wrong on the ice. He’s seen me spiral before.
We run through line rushes, then tighter passing sequences, then battle drills.
Every shove feels sharper today. My stick feels welded to my hands; I’m gripping it too tight.
I can’t stop replaying last night over and over in my head.
Rose’s hands in my hair, her voice given over to me, her body pulling me deeper.
And under that, the thing I hate thinking about: the crash.
The split second of skidding tyres, the noise, me driving off without stopping to check everyone was okay because I panicked, and Talia screamed at me to go.
No. Doesn’t matter. She doesn’t know that part.
She doesn’t need to know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Head up, Cal!” Lukas snaps as he cuts across my lane. “You’re in your own damn world.”
I shove past him harder than I should. “Get out of my way then.”
He smirks. “There he is.”
The chirping is normal but the bitterness behind mine isn’t. I can feel it scraping at the inside of my ribs, like little claws of fear scratching. The kind of fear you can’t show anyone.
After the final whistle, Coach calls us over to huddle, and when he dismisses the boys but nods for me to stay, my stomach drops a little.
Not the crash thing. Not that. He doesn’t know.
No one knows. But everything else? Yeah.
He definitely knows that, it’d be hard not to since Talia’s public showdown at the rink.
He waits until everyone’s cleared out before he speaks. “PR wants you upstairs.”
I wipe a hand over my face. “Because of Talia’s shit?”
“Because of how fast it’s spreading.”
“Great.” I kick at the ice shavings near the boards. “Exactly how I wanted to start my morning.”
He gives me a look, it’s an older, steadier, more patient-but-don’t-push-me look. “Keep your head, Callum. They can help if you let them.”
I nod and shove my gloves into my bag, walking off the ice dripping sweat and irritation.
By the time I climb the stairs to the offices, my hair’s still damp, and my hoodie’s sticking to my back.
PR has two people in the room today, not a good sign, and they’re both already scrolling on their tablets before I sit down.
“Callum,” Laura says, tapping something on her screen.
“We’re going to keep this straightforward.
Talia’s posts are gaining traction. She’s implying you cheated, which is bad enough, but she’s also tagging fan accounts and using old photos.
It isn’t defamatory enough to legally pursue, but it is close. ”
I exhale slowly. “I didn’t cheat.”
“We know.” She clicks something. “The problem is public perception. Rose has already been pulled into comment threads.”
My jaw flexes. “She didn’t deserve that.”
“No,” Laura agrees. “But she’s involved now. What we need to know is whether this relationship is… temporary or something you want to be public.”
I hesitate for a second, but the truth hits so hard it knocks out any doubt. “It’s real. I’m not going anywhere.”
Both PR reps nod, relieved. “Good. Then we build a plan around that. Which means you don’t respond to Talia.
Don’t fuel it. Don’t post anything reactive.
And keep close to Rose. She might get heat she’s not used to.
Talia only knows who she is because we credited her, and rightly so, on the recent media campaign.
We have a duty to take of Rose too; she’s part of the team now. ”
“She’s already getting heat.”
Laura softens. “Then be there for her. The more stable you two look, the faster these things die. We’ll do all we can our end to protect you and Rose, I’ll get to work on lifting some of Talia’s posts and putting a positive spin on you.”
Stable. That’s the only word I fixate on. Yeah. If only they knew how unstable I actually feel. Because if Rose ever finds out the truth about that night; the sirens, the way my hands shook as I pulled away from the carnage, how I thought the hit came from me.
No. I bury it. Force it down deep, I can’t let it surface. Not now. Not when she trusts me this much.
When the meeting ends, I head back down the stairs, rubbing at my neck and the tension knot that seems to be permanently there these days. The lads are crowding the players’ lounge. Ryan sees me first and makes a low whistle.
“Well? Are you cancelled yet?”
I flip him off, and the room erupts in laughter. Lukas throws a protein bar at my head. “Good news or bad?”
“PR shit.”
“Ah. Boring,” he says, stretching out. “We were hoping for a brawl.”
“I’m sure you were.”
But all of the teasing, the noise, and the normality, just makes me want to get out faster. I need air. I need a moment without everyone staring at me like I’m a tabloid headline. I need Rose.
I shower, dress, and check my phone before I leave.
There’s another notification. Another dig from Talia’s account, this one cryptic, dramatic, and designed to pour gasoline onto a rumour fire.
I slam my locker shut before I can spiral again.
What the fuck is wrong with her? Why can’t she just accept it’s over and move on?
When I get outside, the cold Manchester air hits my lungs hard. But there she is, standing by my car, bundled in her coat, her hair pulled over one shoulder as she scrolls her phone. My whole body unclenches. Every part of me settles the second I see her.
Rose looks up, smiling the way she always does when she sees me. Like I’m not chaos, or complicated, and I’m not carrying something dark and stupid inside me. I’m just hers.
“I brought you coffee,” she says, holding out the cup. “Figured you’d need it.”
I take it, but what I really need is her. I pull her in, kissing her before she can say another word. It’s slow, deep, and dangerous, because I mean it too much. And she tastes like safety and want and everything I shouldn’t have but took anyway. Without any regard for what she might need.
She melts into me with this little sound I feel straight down my spine, and I can’t help tangling one hand in her hair, pulling her closer.
“Cal,” she breathes, cheeks flushed. “Not out here…”
“I don’t care.”
And I don’t. Not about the team, not about the windows above us, not about anything except getting her somewhere I can touch her properly. I open the passenger door. “Come with me.”
She gets in without hesitation.
As soon as we reach my flat, gravity takes over.
I barely get the door shut before she’s pressed against it and my mouth is on hers again.
Her hands slide under my shirt, nails dragging up my skin, and I swear I feel myself unravel in real time.
She jumps, wrapping her legs around my hips, and I carry her to the bedroom like I’m starving for her.
We hit the mattress tangled, breathless, pulling at clothes as if they’re cutting off oxygen. When I finally sink into her, it’s a rush that hits so hard I almost lose myself instantly. She grabs my jaw, kissing me fiercely, rolling her hips in a way that destroys my restraint.
“Cal… God, don’t stop.”
I don’t. I push harder, deeper, the room filled with our breath, our sounds, the headboard barely muffling the rhythm of us.
Her thighs tighten around my waist, her nails dig into my back, and when she comes, it’s with my name broken against my mouth.
I follow right after, burying my face in her neck as heat tears through me, every muscle tensing then giving out.
We collapse together, tangled and damp, and breathing as though we’ve run sprints. And I swear I could stay this way for hours with her body against mine, her fingers tracing the back of my shoulder, and her lips grazing my jaw as though she can’t help touching me.
But the moment she falls asleep, peaceful and warm against my chest, the dread creeps in.
The guilt. The what if. What if she finds out?
What if she pieces together the crash? What if everything I’m building with her rests on a foundation she’d walk away from if she knew the truth?
I hold her tighter, hoping that might keep anything from getting to her. As if I can stop it from the outside.
Eventually, exhaustion drags me under too.
When I wake, sunlight’s slipping under the blinds. Rose is curled against me, scrolling her phone.
My stomach sinks. “What is it?”
She hesitates, just long enough for the fear to spike in my veins. But then she sighs and shows me her screen. More posts. More comments. More people assuming shit that never happened.
I take the phone gently and set it aside before climbing over her, caging her in with my body. “Listen to me,” I say, my voice low. “None of that matters. They don’t matter. I’m with you. I choose you. Not her. Not the past. Not the noise.”
Her eyes soften, and she touches my cheek like she believes me completely. It’s terrifying.
“I know,” she whispers. “I just don’t want to cause problems for you.”
“You’re not,” I tell her, pressing my forehead to hers. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane.”
Her breath catches, and when she kisses me, it’s slow, deep, and full of something I almost recognise as dangerous. Maybe love.
I wrap her in my arms and hold her close, burying the truth deeper in my chest. She can never know about the crash. Because losing her now, after everything we’ve started, would break something in me I’m not sure would heal.
And I’ll protect what we’ve got however I have to. Even if the storm outside is still building.
Even if the actual one is inside me.