Chapter 37 Callie
Callie
The moment I step into the suite, a familiar pang hits me. The sense I don’t belong.
Or at least, that I never used to.
When I came to watch Zane’s games, I sat in the lower bowl, crammed somewhere near the glass.
It was loud and rowdy. The air thick with beer and sweat.
I never really watched the game. Mostly, I watched him and the way he came alive under the spotlight.
It was impossible not to notice the way other people stared at him.
And I smiled like I was supposed to, like I was lucky to be there.
To be his girl.
But the truth is that I was never really part of his world. I was just someone he brought along for the ride. It took both time and distance to realize that.
This feels different. There’s a warmth here I didn’t expect. A comfort that steals over me before I can shake it off. Lilah is the first to spot us.
She turns and waves, already crossing the room with open arms. “You made it!”
As soon as she’s close enough, she pulls me into a hug that’s tight and sincere.
Then she pulls back with a grin, and her gaze settles on Nora. “And you brought a cheerleader.”
Nora beams and immediately wiggles out of my arms when she spots the cluster of kids playing near the lounge area. Willow turns at the sound, her face lighting up as she rises from the plush couch.
“Nora!” she calls, crouching just in time for my daughter to barrel into her.
Watching them together makes something sharp and unexpected twist deep inside me. Not only in how easily Nora fits into this space, like she was meant to be here all along, but in the way I’m starting to feel like I do too
Willow rises to her feet and hugs me next, her embrace warm and full of quiet reassurance. “It’s so good to see you again.”
“You too.” My throat tightens. “Thanks again for watching Nora the other night.”
“It was our pleasure.” Her gaze flicks to the kids, where Nora is now in the thick of it, proudly showing off Gaffy. “Autumn and Haven absolutely adore her.”
I can’t help but smile as my heart clenches at the sight. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”
From the corner of the suite, Rina lifts one hand in greeting, the other is curled around a drink. Her sharp gaze slides over me before landing squarely on the jersey beneath my jacket.
Her brows lift in amusement. “Well, damn,” she says, tilting her head. “You really went all-in, huh?”
A self-conscious laugh slips out as I glance down and smooth my hand over the blue material with River’s name and number stamped across the back.
“He gave it to me this morning,” I admit. “Right after he made French toast.”
Rina stares for a beat. “Girl, if a man gives you his jersey and makes you French toast in the same twenty-four-hour period, that’s your sign to marry him.”
My laughter is real this time as it bubbles up unexpectedly. Beneath the humor, there’s something unsteady in my chest. Part of me wants to believe in this fairy tale I’ve been dropped in the middle of.
Even if it still scares me to death.
Warm-ups have already started on the ice below, and I instinctively scan the rink for River. He’s easy to spot. A blur of blue and white as he cuts across the ice like it’s second nature.
Like he was born to play this game.
And then he looks up and our eyes lock from across the distance.
He doesn’t smile or wave.
Just holds my gaze, like there’s no one else in this arena but the two of us.
The moment stretches until I watch his gaze drop, landing on the jersey I’m wearing.
The one he gave me.
Something in his face changes. That hard, focused expression eases just enough for a flicker of emotion to break through.
I have to swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat.
This quiet moment of connection is more intimate than anything I ever experienced with Zane. My ex used to flash those camera-ready grins and reach for my hand when he knew someone was watching.
But with River, everything feels different.
Real.
Honest.
The atmosphere in the suite shifts as Hugh enters.
He murmurs something to Evelyn, who stands with her back partially turned to us.
She doesn’t respond right away, but when she finally glances over her shoulder, her eyes are sharp and full of irritation.
The tension between them is subtle, but it cuts deep.
Like a wound neither of them ever let fully heal.
There’s history there.
And clearly, it’s not over.
The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s game!”
Nora gasps and claps her hands, bouncing on her toes like she’s about to take flight. And when River’s name is called, her voice carries above the noise.
“Rivvy!”
She’s so proud and innocent in her joy. The grin stretching across her face might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
As soon as the puck drops, the energy on the ice changes.
Zane is out there, his movements erratic. He’s playing like he’s out for blood. I’m afraid of who’s blood he’s trying to spill. My gaze sharpens just in time to catch the way he slashes his stick a little too close to River’s skates.
“Is he seriously starting this shit now?” Rina mutters from beside me, her gaze glued to the action below.
Willow leans forward as her eyes narrow. “What’s that guy’s problem?”
My stomach knots. It’s like a traffic accident I can’t rip my attention away from. I’m hyperaware of every second Zane and River share the ice. The way River manages the pressure but never retaliates. He’s holding it in and, somehow, keeping his cool.
But I can see it in the set of his jaw and tension in his shoulders.
The restraint is costing him.
“That’s Nora’s father,” I say quietly.
Willow stills, and her brows rise as realization flickers across her face. “Oh.”
Her expression turns to one of understanding.
Or maybe it’s sympathy.
We can all see what River is up against and how he’s choosing to respond instead.
I can’t believe what Zane is doing, and I hate even more that River has to put up with it.
They’re supposed to be teammates.
Zane shouldn’t be behaving like this.
If I wasn’t already terrified of how deep I’ve fallen for River, I am now. There’s a different kind of torture in watching someone you love become the target of a man you once trusted.
A man you once thought you’d build a life with.
Nora tugs at my leg. “Uppy, Mama.”
I blink out of the trance that has fallen over me, and lift her into my arms, holding her tight before resting my cheek against her curls as the game halts for a commercial break.
“Look, Nora! You’re on the Jumbotron!” Rina exclaims from beside me.
My head jerks up, and sure enough, the massive screen above center ice is lit up with an image of me and Nora in our matching jerseys, framed in the muted glow of the suite. River’s number is impossible to miss on our sleeves in bold white.
The announcer’s voice booms through the arena. “Looks like number twenty-three has his own fan club in the house tonight! Check out those matching jerseys. Talk about too cute to handle!”
The crowd cheers and laughs. Nora squeals in delight, her small hands waving to the sea of strangers.
Lilah, Willow, and Rina grin, clearly loving every second of this. Even Evelyn chuckles from behind the rim of her wineglass.
I remain frozen, somehow managing a small, awkward wave before my gaze drops to the ice and I find River staring up at the screen with a smile.
No, not just a smile.
He’s beaming, as if he’s proud we’re here and wants the whole arena to see us.
The screen fades to something else, and the noise around us dips back to normal.
On legs that shake, I sink onto my seat, arms still wrapped around Nora.
Rina leans over, her hand covering mine. “Don’t look so panicked,” she says. “That man is smitten. Anyone with eyes can see it.”
I force a shaky exhale, but the tension inside me refuses to ease.
Whatever River and I are doing is now out there for public consumption.
My gaze drifts to my ex, and the expression on his face says it all. If he was irritated before, it’s nothing compared to the storm brewing there now. Instead of shrinking away from it, fire simmers in my veins.
He moved on in the blink of an eye. And the man certainly hasn’t shied away from parading his new life in front of me. How dare he act like a spoiled child because I’m finally doing the same.
I lift my chin, meeting his glare head-on.
Let him be angry.
I’m done allowing him to control the narrative.