Chapter 17-Callie
Iam not jealous.
“Did you know there’s a real bridge made of LEGOs, Mama? Did you? I did.”
Did you know men are always thinking with their dicks, Wyatt? I did.
Jameson mentioned seeing him escorting the pretty reporter around as we headed back to our office yesterday. I pretended it didn’t concern me but what did they talk about that involved her lipstick winding up all over his collar, huh? He had the nerve to act like nothing was going on even with her still plastered to his side. I’d already heard the way she was talking at the press conference about him. What kind of fool does he take me for?
“Where’s this LEGO bridge at, Bump?” Charlie asks Wyatt when he realizes how distracted I am. I’m glad Charlie was invited to watch the game with us even if it was Ezra who arranged it. I could use the backup.
“In Germany. Where’s that on the map? Mama, where’s your jersey? We’ve gotta match!”
“Across the Atlantic Ocean, I’ll show you later and I think the dryer ate it.”
Poor Wyatt gulps and looks teary-eyed. Ugh, Charlie’s talk of demon washers has had an unintended consequence. He’s going to run out of clean clothes soon.
“I’m kidding. I’ll put it on.” And, I’ll hate every second of wearing it.
We leave at last, all dressed in our jerseys. I suppress a snarl thinking about Ezra’s last name being emblazoned on my back. Maybe I should’ve just stayed home.
“This bus is alright but I never have ridden in a fancy town car,” Charlie comments, idly. I shoot him a look like my mother would. He bites back a chuckle, totally unintimidated by me. “Just saying, it would’ve made things easier with these crutches.”
Guilt washes over me. Charlie shouldn’t have to ride the bus and walk the remaining block to the arena with his ankle still immobilized. This is what I get for being stubborn. “I’m very sorry about that.”
He waves away my apology, saying he likes moving around even when he’s moving slow. And, my phone is soon buzzing like an angry bee in my pocket. I don’t care if I’ve upset Ezra’s plans. You are not my man and you do not dictate my mode of transportation.
But, Ezra texted instructions that he was sending a car and enlightened me that several of Wyatt’s teammates would be attending the game with us. He mentioned community goodwill and instilling a love of the game but also called it a smokescreen for the media. He can blow that smokescreen up some other woman’s ass.
I’m angry at him but, mostly, I’m angry at myself for feeling hurt. I played the role of the fool with his brother. I did not relish being that fool.
To be fair, Ezra hasn’t made me any promises but I can’t open myself up to a man who might cheat on me. My heart simply cannot go through that again. Not to mention that sick feeling of jealousy which was nearly choking me yesterday afternoon thinking of him and Amber.
Strolling up to the entrance, I remember I don’t have tickets in hand. He said something about the Will Call Booth in his text. It’s very busy here, a slew of excited hockey fans milling about, so I hold Wyatt’s hand tightly as we wade through the crowd with Charlie following behind us.
I’ve nearly made it through to the designated booth when there’s a commotion from the crowd. Like a prayer being repeated, they murmur one word in a cascade of voices – “Falcon.”
I can’t believe Big Bird is actually out here.
In his forest green jersey, Ezra towers above most everyone making it easy to see his stupidly handsome face and his angry scowl. The crowd parts before him like he’s their hockey messiah, his long legs eating up the distance between us as I fold my arms across my chest.
Jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, he’s barely in range when he barks, “Why didn’t you take the car I sent? Why aren’t you answering your phone? Why aren’t you inside already?”
“We rode the bus.”
“It’s one thing for you to be stubborn for yourself, Callie, but an entirely different matter when it comes to Wyatt and Charlie’s well-being.”
Hello again, Guilt.“We were fine and I don’t have to explain myself to you, Ezra.”
“Like hell, you don’t. From now on, if I’m sending you a car, you’re going to ride in that fucking car and-”
A gasp from beside me has Ezra’s mouth snapping shut. “Why you saying that bad word, Ezra? Don’t be mad at my mama. The dryer tried to eat her jersey.”
One glance at my son, my little defender, checks Ezra’s anger at once. Even if I suspect I’ve not heard the last of my mutiny, his expression and tone softens when he looks at Wyatt. It makes my dumb heart do that flippy thing. “Not mad. Just worried about you, Bump. Hello again, Charlie,” he adds after taking a deep breath.
“Ezra,” Charlie says, shaking his hand with amusement twinkling in his eyes before he lowers his voice. “Whatever you did, boy, I suggest you undo it.”
I glare at Charlie as Ezra’s eyes widen. “I didn’t… There’s an elevator we can take that will make things easier on you, Charlie. Are you ready for the game?” he asks Wyatt, shooting worried looks my way.
My son nods enthusiastically, sharing his latest bits of trivia while Ezra sweeps us past the crowd, past security and past the ticket scanners like a king bringing us into his castle.
“Callie,” he rasps in my ear once we’re settled in rink-side seats.
Damn that raspy voice and the shivers they cause. “Later,” I say between gritted teeth.
If he wants a fight then, he can have one.
∞∞∞
“Fight! Fight! Fight!”the kids chant around us as the two opposing players circle each other on the ice, ready to throw punches.
They’re not chanting alone. I’d forgotten the bloodlust of hockey fans. I’d put it out of my head just like all the other things that reminded me too much of the Sokolov brothers after I came back home.
“You used to cover your eyes during fights,” a deep voice murmurs from beside me. Wyatt was between us but he’s moved again to share snacks with one of his teammates.
“I did not,” I reply, highly offended.
“I watched more than one game with you so don’t lie.”
“A little blood never bothered-oh, sugar honey iced tea!” I squeal as blood pours from one man’s nose. This is the closest I’ve ever been to the carnage. “Can’t these overgrown boys control themselves?!”
Ezra makes gasping noises beside me like he’s about to choke. But, he’s laughing. At me. “Sugar honey…”
“There are kids here,” I hiss at him.
“And, I’m betting they know what that saying stands for.” He leans in close to my ear, making me squirm when he asks, “Is Charlie right? Did I do something wrong, hummingbird?”
“Don’t call me that. Watch the game, Big Bird.”
“I’d rather watch you.”
A thrill zips through me no matter how much I’m determined to ignore it. “Why? Isn’t your pretty reporter here tonight?”
He stares at me like I’m talking nonsense. “Emmy’s right over there with her grandson.”
“I don’t mean her. I meant Amber. Should’ve set her straight that I’m not your employee by the way.”
His lips twitch, his green eyes brightening with delight. Dammit. “Callie, are you jealous?”
“Jealous? You’re crazy. Why am I even talking to you? Explain the off-side rule to someone who cares or something.”
“I remember explaining it to you.”
“I already understood it. You just thought you knew everything.”
“Yeah, I did but I was wrong. Why don’t you tell me about it instead this time?”
He’s being so… congenial. This is not what I expect from Ezra. At all. “There’s a mom over there who can’t stop staring at you. I’m sure she’d love to be enlightened.” Double dammit. I sound like a jealous loon.
“Are you pissed I was talking to Amber yesterday? Is that it? Callie, that was an interview, nothing more.”
“Don’t say p-i-s-s-e-d in front of the children. And, your interview left lipstick all over your shirt collar.”
“I… she didn’t. I’ve never done anything of the sort with Amber. That was my assistant’s lipstick.”
My jaw drops. “You’re a total pig.” But, he’s laughing again, so hard he’s wheezing. “Ass,” I mutter.
“Don’t say a-s-s in front of the children.”
I shove an elbow in his ribs to shut him up – it works – and stand up, getting Charlie’s attention. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Keep a close eye on Wyatt for me.”
He nods, eyebrows shooting skyward when Ezra stands, too. Lord only knows what he’ll tell Mama tonight.
“Callie, come on,” Ezra whisper-shouts, trying to get me to sit again. “Let me explain.”
“I’m going to pee,” I whisper-shout back. Your brother tried that explaining bullshit with me, too.
I don’t really need to pee but I need a break from him. I’ll pay someone to trade seats with me if I have to when I return. I keep edging down the row, knowing I’m being followed. When I reach the steps, I figure I can make quicker time in my sneakers while he’s still wading past feet.
The fight ends with penalties handed out and a timeout being called and before I know what’s happening, there’s a spotlight shining on our section of seats. The kids all wave and scream excitedly, my son included.
But, the spotlight isn’t looking for them. It’s looking for Ezra. The light passes over my head. He’s only a few steps away from me as I turn back to see it landing right on his face.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we want to take this opportunity tonight to recognize the man who…”
The announcer’s voice over the PA fills the arena and a hush falls over the crowd. I can tell Ezra didn’t expect this.
They only mean to acknowledge him, to give the crowd a chance to show their appreciation for the man who brought the NHL to their city. Or, the guy who brought a new team to the league for them to hate if they’re rooting for the opponent.
They’re showing highlights from his playing days on the jumbotron before switching to live feed of him standing paralyzed five steps below me. Every set of eyes, twenty-thousand strong, is staring at him.
And, I instinctively know Ezra doesn’t want this attention. Not like this. Maybe not at all.
Long ago, so very long ago that he likely doesn’t remember, he told me he hates crowds at one of Chase’s games. I’d rolled my eyes and told him he’d picked the wrong profession. I’d dismissed his dislike as something to say, an excuse for his gruff demeanor. I’d never noticed the truth or fear in his words then… but I see them now.
The swelling applause and roar of voices builds and, for once, Ezra reminds me more of a deer in headlights than a bird of prey. People standing around him start to swarm, patting his shoulders, wanting to admire their hero up close and not realizing how uneasy they’re making him. His social smile is there but so terribly fake it pains me. I may feel angry and hurt about yesterday but I realize I care about him, too.
“Mr. Sokolov shouldn’t have to deal with a crowd this size on his own. Do something,” I say with authority to the nearest security guard.
He’d been staring slack-jawed like others but he jumps into action, pulling two more men with him. They surround Ezra and get the crowd around him to take a few respectful steps back. Ezra immediately bolts like a buck escaping the hunter’s crosshairs, his long legs carrying him past faces with a dutiful wave.
Without a thought, I hold my hand out as he nears me. He grabs it like a lifeline and tugs me along in his wake, up the stairs and onto the concourse, through a secured door and down a quiet hall.
The change from bright lights and people to the semi-darkness and privacy has me temporarily stunned but Ezra seems to know where he’s going. He turns a corner, still pulling me behind. His breathing is rapid, loud, and halting.
“Stop,” I say, softly. He obeys, leaning against the wall like he’s just escaped hell. “Breathe. Deep, slow breaths with me.”
He sucks in a shaky breath and I press my palm against his chest, feeling his pounding heart. He bows his head until our foreheads are touching as I tell him when to inhale and when to exhale, waiting for his pulse to slow.
My fingers slip through his wavy, dark hair, massaging his scalp. His eyelashes flutter closed, so thick and beautiful. His heartbeat and breathing starts to even out.
When his eyes meet mine again, I see shame in them. He has done nothing for which he should feel ashamed. “Ezra,” I murmur, even softer than a moment ago as my hands cradle his stubbled jaw.
“Thank you,” he whispers… before crushing me against him for a soul-searing kiss.