20. Callahan Eli
Callahan Eli
I didn’t plan to corner her like this.
I told myself I was simply heading to the locker room to grab my bag after the community event, but my feet had other ideas.
Lately, they have developed an internal compass that only points north, and north is wherever she’s standing.
The hallway is quiet, isolated from the lingering noise of the families heading toward the parking lot.
I watch her shoulders drop an inch when she hears my voice. It is the only sign of weakness she gives, but it is enough to make my heart hammer against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I’ve seen her face down the most aggressive, hot-headed players in the league without blinking, but here, under the harsh yellow lights of the back corridor, she looks like she is bracing for a storm.
And I am the storm.
She stops and turns slowly, like she already knows exactly what is coming. She doesn’t look surprised; she just looks tired.
“Yes?”
“What was that out there?” I ask, my voice echoing slightly against the concrete walls.
Her jaw tightens, just barely.
“That isn’t your concern, Callahan,” she says, her words clipped and controlled.
“Like hell it isn’t,” I snap, stepping closer into her personal space.
“You changed. Instantly. You were—” I falter, searching my brain for words that don’t sound like a confession. “You were glowing out there, Ivy.”
The second the words leave my mouth, panic flares because I’ve just admitted how closely I was watching her. It’s out now; the secret I’ve been keeping since the first whistle blew this morning is laid bare in the hallway.
But I saw her with those kids.
I saw the way she knelt in the slush and didn’t care about her expensive pants or her reputation. I saw her touch that little girl’s shoulder with a tenderness that felt like a physical punch to my gut.
“You were different,” I say, my voice sounding like it has been dragged over gravel.
“You weren’t calculating your next move or worrying about the standings.
You were just there. You were human. And then your father walked in, and you vanished.
You stepped behind a door so fast I could practically hear it slam shut. ”
I step closer, invading the space she usually guards so fiercely.
She lets out a short, sharp laugh, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
The sound stings more than if she had snapped at me or told me to go to hell.
“That’s ridiculous, Callahan. I was doing my job.”
“And then he walked in,” I continue, my voice dropping lower, more intimate. “And you shut down. Tell me why you’re so afraid of him seeing you happy.”
“You don’t get to interrogate me. You are a player on this team, not my therapist.”
Anger and want are tangling tight in my chest, a knot I can’t seem to unbind. I force myself to stand my ground instead of crossing another line, but the proximity is making it impossible to think straight.
“I get to notice,” I counter. “And I noticed. The whole team noticed, even if they’re too scared to say it.”
Silence stretches between us.
I can feel her just a fraction of an inch from me. Her warmth is bleeding across the small gap, her scent sharp and crisp—faint traces of citrus and winter pine that always seem to cling to her skin. My chest tightens as if my body has been waiting for this exact moment.
“That’s unfair,” she whispers, her voice losing its edge for the first time.
“Is it?”
Something shifts in the air—a heat that presses low in my chest.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, though her voice lacks conviction.
“Then explain it to me,” I murmur, leaning down just a fraction. “Because watching you disappear like that… I hated it, Ivy. I hated seeing you hide.”
My voice drops to something husky, a tone that shouldn’t be audible in a professional setting.
We are too close now.
I can feel the subtle warmth of her body and the soft brush of a stray hair near my face.
Her eyes flicker down to my lips, just for a heartbeat, but it is enough to confirm everything I’ve been suspecting.
I catch her hand in mine.
She trembles once before settling, the heat of her skin shooting straight up my arm. Her hand is smaller than mine, the delicate curve of her wrist a stark contrast to my rough, calloused palm.
Her eyes are dark, blown wide with a frantic sort of hunger that borders on agony. Every time I move a fraction closer, a small, strangled sound catches in the back of her throat—a plea or a protest.
We are standing in a hallway where anyone could walk by at any second. There are security cameras recording the corridor, and yet I’ve never felt more alone with someone in my entire life.
I’m looking at her mouth—at the way the red gloss has faded just enough to show the natural pink of her lips—and I’ve never wanted anything more than to ruin that perfect, professional composure.
“Ivy,” I breathe.
“This is a very bad idea,” she whispers, shaking her head.
“Probably,” I agree, letting my thumb brush the back of her hand.
Her head tilts slightly, a silent invitation. I tilt mine down, closing the distance until I can feel her breath on my skin. The air between us thickens, becoming almost suffocating in its intensity.
Her lips part just slightly—vulnerable, teasing, and entirely deliberate. I lift my free hand, stopping inches from the curve of her waist, my fingers itching to pull her against me.
“HEY!”
The sound hits us like a physical punch.
I step back immediately, dragging a hand through my hair and trying to find my lungs. Iveline exhales softly, regaining her control with infuriating speed. Rage and humiliation flash through me before I can even decide if part of me is relieved.
Cash skids to a stop at the end of the hallway, loud and oblivious, a human hurricane of chaotic energy.
“There you are! Coach Talvi, you left your—”
He freezes in place, looks between us, his eyes wide, and then a smug, knowing grin spreads across his face. “Oh. I’m interrupting something, aren’t I? Is this a private practice review?”
“No,” Iveline says coolly, her voice as flat as the ice. “I was just leaving. Callahan was asking about the schedule for tomorrow.”
Cash beams, looking entirely unconvinced. “Amazing. Love the dedication to the schedule. Love this for you both.”
She shoots him a glare sharp enough to cut through glass.
He laughs, backing away slowly with his hands raised like he is surrendering. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything. For now. But the vibes in here are… spicy. Very spicy.”
Cash’s footsteps finally fade, but the damage is done. The bubble we were in hasn’t just burst; it has been completely incinerated.
Iveline is already smoothing her coat, her expression shifting back to that impenetrable mask.
I want to reach out again. I want to tell her that Cash is a clown and that it doesn’t matter what he thinks.
But it does matter and we both know it.
This is the NHL, and she is the GM’s daughter. If the rumor mill starts turning, she is the one who would pay the price.
“Go,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. “Before someone else comes by.”
I want to stay and finish what we started, but I see the flicker of genuine panic in her eyes. I realize that my “noticing” her has put her in a position she hates: being vulnerable.
I give her a single, sharp nod and turn away.
My boots feel heavy on the concrete floor as I walk. My hand still feels the lingering heat of hers, and my skin still feels the electricity that passed between us.
I push through the heavy doors into the cold night air, but it doesn’t cool anything down. Not the heat in my chest, and certainly not the frustration clawing at my ribs.
I shouldn’t have said it. I shouldn’t have touched her.
I shouldn’t want her like this.
But I do. God, I do.
The parking lot is mostly empty now, the kind of quiet that makes every thought feel ten times louder. I stop beside my SUV, bracing my hands on the cold metal of the hood, trying to breathe past the adrenaline still buzzing under my skin.
I almost kissed her and she almost let me.
That is the part that truly undoes me—the way she leaned in, the way her breath hitched, the way her eyes softened for a split second before she slammed the door shut again.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to reset.
A second later, I hear the arena doors open behind me. My heart jumps—a stupid, hopeful thud—for half a second before the footsteps hit the concrete. They’re too heavy and too careless to be hers.
Cash strolls past like he owns the parking lot, heading for his car and tossing me a look that is way too knowing for someone who once tried to microwave a plastic fork.
“Relax, Callie,” he calls out over his shoulder. “Your secret is safe with me.”
I straighten up, my jaw tightening. “There is no secret, Finn. Get in your car.”
Cash stops mid-step. He slowly turns around and stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You like her.”
I groan, scrubbing a hand down my face. The weight of his words hits me, and for the first time, I realize he might actually be right.
“Don’t say it out loud. Especially not here.”
He grins. It is a dangerous, delighted grin.
“You like her, oh my God, you’re falling in love with her,” he repeats, louder this time, like he is testing the acoustics of the empty lot.
“Finn, I’m warning you—”
He throws his hands up in the air. “This is amazing! This is terrible! This is—oh my god, I’m going to be the best man at your wedding. I’m already planning the bachelor party. We’re going to Vegas.”
“I’m not falling in love. We aren’t getting married. We aren’t even—”
“You are,” he interrupts with absolute confidence. “And I’m giving a speech. It is going to be incredibly emotional and deeply humiliating for you.”
I glare at him, my pulse still hammering. “You’re an idiot.”
“True,” he says cheerfully, unlocking his car. “But I’m a correct idiot. Anyone with eyes could see the way you look at her, Callahan.”
He slides into the driver’s seat and peels out of the lot, still grinning. I’m left standing there in the biting cold, the truth pressing down on me hard and heavy.
I climb into my car and slam the door harder than I need to. I sit there gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles ache.
I crossed a line tonight, and the worst part—the part that scares me more than anything—is that I don’t regret it.
I put the car in gear and pull out of the lot.
The arena shrinks in my rear-view mirror, but the feeling doesn’t fade. And whatever this is between us, it’s not going away.
Not after the way she said my name.
Not after I realized I am already falling, and there isn’t any ice thick enough to catch me.
***
10:56 PM
Cash: You know this is actually very hard for me.
Me: …What is?
Cash: Watching you fall in love before I do. I thought we were in this together. Two idiots. Alone. Forever.
Me: Finnian.
Cash: No, no, it’s fine. I’ll just… download a dating app or something.