Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CALLUM
The cold air of the rink and the familiar smell of sharpened steel are usually enough to steady me.
Today it doesn’t. Today it feels loud and bright, like every echo is aimed straight at the thing I’ve been trying not to think about.
My skates bite into the ice as I circle once, twice, muscle memory taking over while my head stays somewhere else entirely—on Rose, on the way her eyes searched my face the other night, on Talia’s words curling around my spine like smoke I can’t clear.
I slam the puck harder than necessary into the boards and hear someone whistle from the bench. Lukas glides over, easy and unbothered, sweat darkening the collar of his jersey.
“Jesus, mate,” he says. “You trying to break the rink?”
“Just warming up,” I mutter, but my jaw’s tight enough that it’s obvious I’m lying.
He studies me for a second longer than he needs to, then jerks his head toward the bench. “Come on. Water break.”
I follow him off the ice, hands shaking just enough that I have to clench them into fists.
We sit, shoulder to shoulder, bottles cracking open, the rest of the boys loud around us.
Normally this is where I’d switch off, slip back into the version of myself that only thinks in plays and pressure and muscle.
Instead, my chest feels like it’s caving in.
“You’ve been off all week,” Lukas says quietly. “Not game-off. Head-off.”
I blow out a breath. “You ever make a decision that feels small at the time, and then it just… grows teeth?”
He snorts. “That’s most decisions.”
I stare down at the ice between my skates. The words sit heavy on my tongue, poisonous and overdue. If I say them, they’re real. If I say them, I can’t take them back.
“I fucked up,” I say finally.
Lukas doesn’t joke this time. He waits.
“There was a car crash,” I begin, voice low enough that it’s barely a sound. “Months ago. It was raining and late. I ran a red. Caused a three-car crash behind me.”
His head snaps toward me. “What?”
“I didn’t drag her out,” I add quickly, the old panic flaring even now. “I didn’t touch her. But I didn’t stop either. I panicked. Talia was with me. She told me to keep driving. She screamed at me to keep going.”
Lukas goes very still.
“I tracked her down at the hospital the next day,” I continue, every word scraping. “Told myself I just needed to know she was okay and there was no real damage done. That was it. That’s how I found Rose.”
Silence presses in around us, thick and dangerous.
“She doesn’t know,” I say. “She thinks we met by chance.”
Lukas swears under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “Callum…”
“I know,” I snap, then immediately hate myself for it. “I know.”
He looks at me then, like he’s seeing the cracks I’ve been trying to plaster over. “You have to tell her.”
My laugh is short and ugly. “You think I don’t know that? I just… every time I try, I see her face. The way she looks at me as though I’m safe and I’m the good guy.”
“And you won’t be if she finds out from someone else,” he says bluntly. “Because she will. Secrets don’t stay buried.”
I swallow hard. “Talia knows. She knows I tracked Rose down at the hospital.”
That gets his full attention. “Of course she does.”
“She’s been circling,” I say. “Dropping hints. Making Rose wonder if I’m hiding something.”
Lukas leans closer, voice fierce. “Then you’re out of time. If Rose hears this from Talia, it won’t matter how good you’ve been since. It’ll destroy her. And it’ll destroy you.”
I nod because he’s right and I hate him for it.
Practice blurs after that. Muscle memory carries me through drills, through contact, through the sharp relief of impact. It’s the only thing that settles my head, even a little. By the time I leave the rink, dusk has settled in, the sky bruised purple and grey.
I drive home slower than usual, knuckles white on the wheel. Every red light feels like an accusation.
The flat is dark when I walk in, quiet in a way that makes my chest ache. Rose’s scarf is draped over the back of the chair where she left it last time. I pick it up without thinking, press it to my face, breathe her in. Clean soap and something warm and indefinable that feels like home.
A knock sounds at the door and I freeze.
Another knock, sharper this time.
I already know who it is.
When I open the door, Talia stands there like a ghost I summoned myself. Perfect hair, perfect coat, eyes bright with something sharp and satisfied.
“Miss me?” she says.
“Go home,” I reply flatly.
She laughs, stepping inside anyway, heels clicking against the floor. “Relax. I won’t stay long.”
I close the door behind her, heart pounding. “What do you want?”
She looks around, taking in the flat, the traces of Rose everywhere. Her lip curls. “You moved on quickly.”
“You lost the right to comment on my life,” I say.
She shrugs. “Did I? Because I know things, Callum. Important things.”
My jaw tightens. “If you’re here to threaten me—”
“I’m here to warn you,” she cuts in. “Tell her. Or I will.”
The room tilts.
“You wouldn’t,” I say, though part of me knows she absolutely would.
She steps closer, lowering her voice. “You think she’ll stay when she finds out you caused the accident? That you left her injured in her car?”
“I didn’t know it was her,” I snap. “And I didn’t leave her—”
“But you left the scene without stopping,” she says simply. “And she’s starting to wonder why you feel so guilty all the time.”
I feel sick.
“You tell her by the end of the week,” Talia continues, satisfied now. “Or I do. And I won’t be kind about it.”
She turns toward the door, pauses, glancing back at me. “You should have stayed with me. I kept your secrets.”
The door closes behind her with a soft, final click.
I sag against it, breath coming too fast, too shallow. My phone buzzes in my pocket and Rose’s name lights up the screen. I can’t do this.
By the time I pull myself together enough to move, the sound of an engine outside catches my attention. Through the window, I see Talia getting into her car, movements sharp and angry.
And then I see Rose.
She’s across the street, half-hidden by the shadow of a tree, frozen in place. She watches Talia drive away, her posture stiff, guarded. She doesn’t move toward the building. She just stands there, taking it in, like she’s piecing together a puzzle she didn’t ask for.
“Rose,” I breathe, already reaching for the door.
But she doesn’t come closer.
Instead, she turns and walks away. Away from the building, away from me. I call out her name as I run down the steps towards the gate. “Rose, wait!” She doesn’t stop, in fact, her pace quickens.
The sound of her footsteps fade, and with it, something inside me fractures completely.
Realising my efforts are futile I head back inside. I slide down the door until I’m sitting on the floor, head in my hands, the weight of everything crashing in at once. Lukas’s words echo in my skull. If she finds out from someone else.
I’ve been trying to protect her. That’s what I told myself. But all I’ve been doing is protecting me. And now I might have lost her anyway. I press my forehead to my knees, breathing hard, guilt clawing its way up my throat. I love her. God help me, I love her more than anything.
And tomorrow, or the next day, or the one after that, I’m going to have to choose.
Tell her the truth and risk losing her.
Or keep lying and deserve it when she walks away for good.
Either way, the reckoning is coming.