27. WADE
WADE
Not a stalker
A t this point, I was pretty sure I’d veered into stalker territory. Every day, I found myself watching Cal’s training from the sidelines, studying his moves on the ice like some lovesick teenager. Afterward, I’d try to catch him as he left, only to be brushed off with a muttered “not now, Jack” as he ducked into the locker room.
Undeterred, I’d head to his place, hoping that day might be the day he’d finally talk. But without fail, Tyler or Hunter would answer the door, giving me that same sympathetic look as they explained he wasn’t taking visitors or that he was napping.
They didn’t hate me, at least. They pitied me, though, and honestly, I wasn’t sure which was worse. Two weeks of this routine, and there I was—borderline stalkerish but not a complete creep. I hadn’t taken any photos, after all. Surely that made it better. Right?
But today, when the condo door swung open, it wasn’t Tyler or Hunter who greeted me. Instead, a massive guy with a buzz cut filled the doorway, his bulk blocking the light. And behind him, unmistakable curls. Shane and Eli.
“Well, this is a new level of stalkerhood—tracking down some guys you met on a plane?” Shane’s voice was dry, his expression deadpan, but the quirk of his brow betrayed a hint of humor.
A reluctant chuckle slipped out of me.
“Wanted to know how our trip went?” he continued, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Just a funny coincidence,” I said, aiming for casual but probably landing closer to awkward.
“I’m actually here to see Cal—if he’ll see me.”
Shane gave me a long, assessing look, the kind that could make most people squirm. Before he could respond, another familiar face popped up behind him. Eli, beaming with that same uncontainable enthusiasm he’d had on the plane.
“Wait—didn’t you say you owned a bar? You wouldn’t happen to be the guy from Line Back Jack’s?” Eli asked, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. Shane’s hand shot out, steadying him like he was a human tether.
“Yeah, that’s mine,” I said, managing a smile. “Cal came up with the name, practically redesigned the whole place.”
Eli’s eyes went wide, his excitement bubbling over. “No way! I actually designed your exterior and the jerseys!”
I blinked, thrown for a moment.
“Small world,” I said, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. Then I glanced past them to the door again, trying to mask my impatience. “So… could I see him?”
Shane’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing slightly. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either.
“He went to shower,” Shane finally said, stepping back from the door. “But you can come sit on the couch.”
It was the furthest I’d gotten in weeks, so I didn’t hesitate. I stepped inside, nodding in thanks, and made my way to the couch. I let out a slow breath, leaning back against the cushions. Maybe this was progress. Maybe today would be the day.
“So, you guys play too?” I asked, trying to ease the tension.
Eli glanced at Shane, hesitation flickering in his eyes for just a moment. Shane nudged his shoulder, smirking. “Still counts, sweetheart.”
Eli shrugged, his energy shifting into something more self-conscious.
“We both coach now, but I’ve been thinking about joining a beer league once I get more settled. Just depends if it clashes with my classes.”
“Very cool,” I replied, meaning it. “Looks like everyone in this house was born with blades on their feet.”
That finally cracked Shane’s tough exterior. A faint smile tugged at his mouth, softening the steely edge. “Seems that way. Do you skate?”
I hesitated, unsure if admitting I hadn’t mastered skating would make me an outsider here. The atmosphere of this place made it feel like skating wasn’t just a hobby—it was a way of life, a membership requirement.
“It’s not a trick question, man,” Shane said, reading my hesitation with unnerving ease. His sharp gaze reminded me how closely they all seemed to look out for each other. Eli had this open, puppy-like enthusiasm, while Shane’s protectiveness felt as steady and unshakable as a steel wall. And Cal… he was something else entirely. A wildfire barely contained, vibrant and anxious all at once. I’d seen it clearly at my parents’ place, though he’d kept himself tightly wound.
“Not to a level of performance, in a straight line, yes,” I admitted finally. “Lost those younger years, I guess, and just never got around to it. But I’ve been a fan, especially since I met Cal. I’ve watched him every day since we got back from Boston.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I’d messed up. Shane’s face darkened, the openness replaced by a steely glare I recognized all too well.
“So it was you,” he said, his voice low and rough, like the first rumble of a coming storm.
“W-what was me?” I stammered, struggling to hold my ground under his fierce gaze. Shane was clearly the type of defenseman who could make an opponent regret every decision leading up to a hit—and I was suddenly grateful I wasn’t on the ice with him.
“The one who put this dark cloud over his head.” His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching as he went on. “Last time I saw him like this, I was camped out on Tyler’s couch, watching trash reality shows to distract him from the asshole who broke his heart.”
The accusation hit me like a slap, my heart jumping at the thought.
“Wait—no, it’s not like that. We… we didn’t even have a fight. I’m still trying to understand it myself.” I struggled to explain without unraveling everything.
“He came with me to my brother’s engagement party, and then he just… left. No word, no explanation. I’ve been trying to get two minutes with him ever since to—well, to tell him…”
The words caught in my throat. To tell him what? That I was falling for him? That I’d quite possibly already fallen? That he’d somehow woven himself into my life in ways I hadn’t thought possible since… Sam.
And that’s when it hit me—this hesitation. For so long, I’d thought Sam was the one. The ache of that loss had lingered, but what I felt for Cal was different. New. Raw. A force I couldn’t deny, no matter how much it scared me.
Shane’s sharp gaze softened just a fraction, his eyes narrowing like he could see me wrestling with the truth.
“Well, something’s got him… not like himself,” Shane said after a long pause. He trailed off, as if searching for the right word.
“A force?” I offered, catching the flicker of recognition in his eyes.
That earned a small chuckle.
“Yeah, that. Right now, I don’t want to say he’s depressed, but he’s definitely something. I’ve seen this before.” Shane glanced at Eli, their shared look heavy with unspoken pain. Whatever they weren’t saying didn’t need words. Life has left its scars on all of us.
“You don’t have to explain,” I murmured. “I know too well that life has a way of… being a rude fucker.”
Eli and Shane both laughed, though the sound carried a weight I recognized.
“I noticed things during his training,” I admitted after a pause. “But he could win an Oscar with how well he hides it.”
Shane nodded, his expression thoughtful now, the anger simmering to something quieter.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “He’s good at that—When he’s on the ice, it’s like he can shut out everything else. There’s a bond there, a cosmic pull, just like in hockey. But the second he steps off… that’s when you see the cracks. I think that’s why he’s avoiding you here. The curtains are drawn, and he doesn’t want anyone backstage.”
He paused, his gaze steady and weighted with meaning.
“We catch glimpses, but for the last two weeks, he hasn’t been out in the common rooms. Normally, he’d be all up in our business, ten feet deep in our lives. Now? We could all have the plague, and he’d never notice.”
The weight of his words hit me hard and fast. This wasn’t just avoidance—Cal was in his own private hell, retreating further than even the people closest to him could reach. And he was doing it alone, despite being surrounded by friends who clearly wanted to help.
I barely had time to process it before the door burst open, laughter spilling into the room. My head shot up, hopeful, but instead of Cal, it was Tyler and Hunter, half-wrestling as they stumbled through the doorway.
“I totally deserved that assist!” Hunter was saying, digging his fingers into Tyler’s sides like he was trying to tickle the truth out of him.
“No, you didn’t! Just standing by the goal post doesn’t count,” Tyler shot back, laughing as he tried to fend him off.
“But my stick was right there, ready for the redirect!”
“It didn’t touch your stick, babe,” Tyler teased, grinning.
Their banter died the second they noticed me sitting on the couch. Replaced by wary surprise. Tyler’s eyes flicked from me to Shane, his grin disappearing into something much colder.
“What’s he doing here?” Tyler’s voice was flat, his expression hard.
“We let him in,” Shane said carefully, his tone calm but guarded. “Shouldn’t we have?”
Tyler crossed his arms, his jaw tightening as he turned back to me.
“Well, he came into Cal’s life at the exact same time everything else… shifted.” His words hung in the air, heavy with suspicion.
I felt the room close in around me. The loyalty here was palpable, ironclad, and it was clear these men would go to war for Cal without hesitation. Whatever relationship he’d had with his biological family, this group was his real one, and they weren’t about to let me—or anyone else—hurt him.
I cleared my throat, forcing myself to keep my tone steady.
“Look, I just… I wanted to talk to him. To explain some things.”
Tyler’s eyes narrowed, his skepticism sharp enough to draw blood.
“Whatever it is, maybe it’s better left alone,” he said coolly.
The words hit harder than I expected, but I held my ground, refusing to look away.
“I don’t think it is,” I said quietly.
For a moment, the room was silent, the tension hanging thick. Then Shane spoke, his voice cutting through the weight like a lifeline.
“Maybe Cal should be the one to decide that.”
Before I could defend myself, Shane, to my surprise, stepped in.
“Cal was in Boston with him, not visiting family—he ran without a word to Wade. They didn’t even have a fight. He’s as in the dark as we are.”
I blinked, startled by the unexpected support, and shot Shane a grateful look, hoping he understood how much it meant. Tyler, however, didn’t look as convinced. Neither did his boyfriend, Hunter, whose skeptical gaze lingered on me like I might still be hiding something.
“Look,” I began, forcing myself to meet their eyes, “I know you don’t know me from a bar of soap, but you do know I stayed with him during pneumonia. I…” My voice faltered, and I glanced toward the hallway, suddenly aware of how dangerous these next words could be. If Cal overheard, I knew he’d run for the high heavens. Still, I pressed on, lowering my voice to a near whisper.
“I’m falling for him.”
The admission hung in the air like a fragile thread, and for a moment, the tension in the room shifted. Tyler and Hunter exchanged a look, their suspicion softening, while Shane’s expression remained unreadable. I could see it, though—that shared understanding. Cal’s found family knew him well enough to recognize the weight of what I’d just said. Slowly, the threat of being metaphorically tied to a wall and used as a target for slap shots seemed to fade.
Tyler folded his arms, his gaze still sharp but more measured now.
“Okay, here’s what happens—” His voice carried the commanding tone of someone born to lead, and I couldn’t help but note how natural it seemed for him to take charge.
“We’re going to give this a chance. But don’t screw it up. If you do, you’re out of here.”
His words were clear: this wasn’t just about me convincing Cal. It was about proving myself to the people who had his back.
With that, the game plan was laid out, and all that was left was to wait for Mr. Pretty Boy himself to arrive.