38. Cal
Chapter thirty-eight
Cal
Anger and elation were a weird cocktail of emotions.
On the one hand, I couldn’t stop smiling. Not even Jerry hissing at me while I tried to sneak around him into the grocery store earlier or the five miles I’d run on my treadmill could dim the events of last night.
But on the other hand . . .
I smacked the punching bag in rapid succession, remembering the paparazzi.
I hated that Noelle was subjected to that kind of pressure.
While I did my best to interact with fans in a jovial way, I’d nearly lost it when they kept badgering us about our relationship status.
What was this, junior high? Who’s dating who wasn’t that deep.
My phone rang, interrupting my musings. Gabe Carson’s name flashed across the screen, and I fumbled with my gloves trying to answer it. “Hey, man, what’s up?” I asked, wiping my neck with a towel.
“Is this a bad time?” Gabe asked.
“Nope, Serenity Springs is surprisingly lacking in chaotic events at the moment.”
Noelle’s arrival had been the most chaotic thing to happen to this town in months. Excluding Paisley’s bout with amnesia over the summer and Jerry’s viral TikTok moment in May, which landed him as the town mascot with official merch. And no, those things weren’t directly related.
Gabe chuckled. While he and Greyson were closer given their time in the military together, I’d gotten the chance to hang out with him and his family, too, over the years, including when they came to town for a home game after Christmas last year.
I had mad respect for the guy. Plus, his youngest son was a huge Chargers fan, so points for solid parenting.
“I was hoping for a favour,” Gabe said.
“For you? Anything, man.”
“You might regret that.” He chuckled. “We have tickets to Sunday’s San Diego game next week as a surprise for Jackson’s birthday. Any chance we could rope you into dinner while you’re in town?”
“Consider me there. Just let me have a look at the schedule so Coach doesn’t eat me alive for not sticking to the plan.” Which wouldn’t be the first time. Sometimes I got a bit too enthusiastic in trying to connect with fans, particularly the kids.
I scrolled through my phone calendar, looking at the travel itinerary. “We’re heading out Monday afternoon, but we get in on Friday. I could do dinner that night—wait, nope, there’s something planned there. How about Sunday night since it’s an afternoon game?”
Gabe murmured something to someone in the background, probably his wife, Ivy. “Works for us,” he said to me.
“I’ll pencil you guys in.” I tapped out a quick note. “Tell Ivy and the kids hey.”
“Will do. And thanks, Cal. I’ll text you with a few more details so we can iron things out.”
“Sounds good. Talk soon.”
I hung up and grinned in the empty gym. Myles was going to be so jealous. We had an unofficial rivalry for ten-year-old Jackson Carson’s admiration. The kid was a Cal Satterfield fan through and through, much to Myles’s chagrin. But he still tried to win the kid to his side.
Knowing kids looked up to me kept me grounded. I didn’t want to be the guy I used to be. The one that was hurting and used that hurt and anger as an excuse for bad behaviour. I wanted to be a role model worth looking up to.
“You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” I cooed, giving Rosie Cotton a full head massage. “Yes, you are.”
She melted into me with a groan, rolling to offer her belly for scratches. How could I refuse that face? I couldn’t; I wasn’t a heathen.
Greyson had brought her over for guy time after Paisley and Juliet had kidnapped Noelle for a girls’ night at their place.
I was no dummy. Girls’ night was code for: we know you went on a date with Cal last night, so tell us everything. And then Greyson showed up on my doorstep. I told you this town was nosy. But so were the Satterfields.
Greyson popped out the patio door, two sarsaparillas in hand, and joined me at the firepit.
“Hey, you got my message!”
He frowned and tried to pat his jean pockets with full hands. “Did you text me?”
“Nah, I thought at you, and it worked.”
Greyson rolled his eyes. “You’re still trying to do that?”
“It works sixty-three percent of the time.”
He huffed in amusement and sat down. “Change your mind about getting a dog?”
“Not even a little bit.” I glanced at Rosie. “I love you, sugar, but absolutely not.”
Rosie side-eyed me in a I’m sure you’ll cave one day. Have you seen your daughter’s eyes? kind of way. I, of course, ignored her lack of faith in my ability to stand firm.
“Khia go down okay?” I asked, accepting the drink with the hand that wasn’t occupied with her royal fluffy highness at my feet.
Greyson chuckled. “Sure. After two stories, a lecture on which Vivaldi was the right bedtime music, and a mini science lesson on the lifespan of a beta fish.”
I laughed, and it echoed back at me from the trees. The laughter was refreshing, good soul medicine. “She’s on the ocean album of the Jason Lark science adventures.”
“They’re actually good,” Greyson confessed, then took a swig of his soda. “I’ve listened to a couple with her.”
I didn’t disagree. Sometimes I turned them on by myself. Without her. Yes, I was aware it was technically a kids’ radio drama for teaching biblical-based Creation science, but I was hooked.
“So . . .” Greyson’s gaze surveyed the dark backyard, the firelight flickering across his face. “How was the date?”
“Really? Et tu? You’re not gonna chew me out about being careful?”
“I apologized for that.” He arched an eyebrow, and I caved. Because, verbal processor, remember?
“It was great.” I leaned back in my chair. “It was like no time had passed, and yet . . . like we were different, too.”
“Are you going out again?”
Rosie snuffled, trying to get my attention. When I didn’t surrender to her demands, she ambled over to Greyson and sat with her chin on his knee. He stroked her head, and she sighed contentedly.
“She wants to take things slow,” I said, fiddling with the glass bottle. “You know something? After she left, I used to think it was my bad jokes that drove her away.” I held my hand out to the flames and scanned the shadowy lawn. “The night before she left I told her my corn joke.”
“Did she laugh?”
“Yeah.” She always laughed at my jokes, no matter how ridiculous.
Greyson grunted. “Well, beyond a poor taste in humour, I doubt that was the reason.”
“Hey, my jokes aren’t terrible.”
“Well, they aren’t the caviar tier of jokes, so . . .”
“I didn’t say it was my brightest theory.”
He sipped his drink. “Clearly not.”
“Yeah, well, Mr. Allergic to Fun, do you have a better theory?”
While I had inherited the wit and charm, Greyson had gotten all the responsibility and rigidity. Until Paisley came along and softened him up. He studied me for a moment. “Noelle’s decision to leave was hers, not a reflection on you.”
But what if it was? “I have to think about the fact that there were two people in that relationship and leaving was so out of character for her. What if I drove her to it?”
Greyson hummed. “That’s a very mature perspective for you.”
“It happens sometimes. You wear off on me.” I paused. Now that he wouldn’t bite my head off about Noelle, maybe I could get something off my chest. “I wanted to make her proud of me.”
“I know the feeling.”
I snorted. “Right. You, Mr. Hero Complex?”
The crackling flames filled the silence between us. Oh, maybe he was serious.
“Did you ever wonder why I didn’t come home?” he said at last.
Greyson had left to join the Marines the same summer Noelle ran away. Losing two of my favourite people had shaken my world. “Only every year until you did. You even ditched birthdays, my man. I’m still not over that.”
He huffed softly, knowing I was teasing. Mostly. “Coming home felt like acknowledging my failure. Compared to you guys and your hypersuccessful lives, I’d worked my tail off and still missed the promotion.”
I stared, dumbfounded. “Grey, were you jealous?”
He barked a laugh. “Totally.”
“Now that’s ridiculous.”
“Says you who played in the Olympics at twenty.”
“But I was jealous of you,” I countered, leaning my forearms on my knees. “You were the hero everyone was proud of, and I hit a puck around the ice for entertainment.”
“Liam—”
“I know,” I said quietly. “But that wasn’t your fault.
He was a hero, and he saved your life.” My stomach knotted, remembering the call about Greyson being shot and in a hospital in Germany.
It was just after Izzy died, and I was a mess thinking I was about to lose my best friend.
I’d flown out with Paisley and got a front-row view of how dang strong that woman was.
To paraphrase the immortal Bard, she might be little, but she was fierce. My brother’s perfect match in every way.
“You were seriously jealous of me?” Greyson frowned, like the idea was as foreign to him as Timbuktu.
“You’re a hero and got the girl. Why wouldn’t I be jealous? I was happy for you of course, but—”
“Wait, are you saying you and Pais . . . ?”
“What, ew, no! Gross.” I shook my head. Absolutely not. “She’s great, but I meant you got your happily ever after.” I cleared my throat. “I wanted that, too.”
“With Noelle?”
I blew out a breath. “I tried to forget her.”
“I know. You were a walking disaster for years.”
That was putting it mildly. The warmth of the fire was making me tired, or maybe we finally reached the breaking point to be honest about those years.
“I’m not proud of what I did. I know it’s forgiven, but Noelle seems to think .
. . Well, that what she did was worse. I’m not comparing our mistakes, but she can’t seem to see herself as anything more than a screwup. ”
Greyson’s eyes gleamed in the firelight. It was uncanny sometimes, seeing a familiar face, nearly a mirror of my own, sitting across from me. “Then maybe you need to help her see the truth. A word of advice from a wise friend of mine: Woo the woman.”
Woo her. Challenge accepted.