Page 85 of Delayed Offsides

I don’t call anyone to bail me out. I need to sulk in my misery, but I figure when the bailiff calls my name, it’s either Mase or one of the boys who’s sprung me.

Only it’s Callie.

Have you ever had that experience as a child when you knew you did something wrong and your mom or dad was going to yell at you when you got home from school?

So that long walk from the bus stop was impossibly slower? You stopped, smelled the grass, took dirt in your hands, felt the grains slide through your fingers. Took deep breaths to remember what fresh air smelled like. All because you were sure when your parents heard what you had done, life was pretty much over.

That’s me on the walk from the cell to Callie, who’s waiting outside for me.

I imagine everything she’s going to say to me in detail. And it’s not pretty.

Shifting my weight, I stare down at my feet when I notice her standing beside the car, her hands on her stomach. She’s just a few feet away, but it feels like miles.

“What the fuck happened?” she hisses.

I shrug, trying to blow it off, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Got in a fight with Walker.”

“Yeah, I heard. But why? He’s your teammate.”

I don’t say anything at first, until her weight shifts from one foot to the other, her hands on her hips. With the way she stands there, hair thrown up into a messy bun, zip-up hoodie undone to reveal her swollen stomach, she looks intimidating. Pissed off, actually. Can’t blame her. But also, sexy as hell.

I smirk and step closer. “He started. And I wouldn’t call him a teammate.” I lift my eyes to hers, my jaw tightening. “What would you call him?”

Her eyes flash with a sudden rage. “I wouldn’t call him anything. What’s going on with you?” Her cheeks flush, and she draws in a heavy breath. “You’re here, and you’re present, butyou’renot really here.Youhaven’t been unless we’re fucking. What does that tell me?”

Her words take me by surprise. No, they piss me off. Sweat soaks my skin as the humidity in the air circles between us. I squeeze my eyes shut, taking in a deep, labored breath as I process what she said.I’m not here? How can she think that?

“You know, Callie.” I square my shoulders, afraid to breathe. I fear if I do, my lungs will turn to fire and my bones to dust. “I’m at the point where I don’t fuckin’ give a shit. I have no idea howyoufeel. No goddamn idea at all becauseyoucan’t say it.”

Callie stares at me, head-on and blank-faced. Tears flood her eyes. “Neither can you.”

She has me there. I guess. I love her. I have for a long time, yet I’ve never told her. We’re both offsides, and neither one of us wants to be called on the penalty. So we stay quiet, waiting on the other to make the first move.

I know deep down, some shit can’t be taken back. Words are forever.

“Leo…” She sighs. “You can’t be acting like this. Why did you get in a fight with him anyway?”

Here’s a fun fact for you. Anger, suppressed anger, is dangerous. I’ve seen it play out on the ice before. A player looking for retribution but never handed the chance. Next time you meet them on the ice, you seek them out. The thing is, anger makes you do and say shit you normally wouldn’t. Anything to get under their skin and make them feel an ounce of your fury. That’s what Walker does to me, because even now, hours after his comments have settled down deep, they bubble up and remind me of everything he said. Implying he’s been with Callie

My heart thumps loudly in my chest. “Have you been with him recently?”

She flinches. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to ask me that.”

I search her gaze and then lean closer to her face. I glance down at her lips, my body moving closer. “Walker said he’d be calling you up since you are a ‘regular’ and doesn’t understand why he can’t share.”

Her brown eyes narrow at me. “You haven’t changed one bit, have you? Are you going to ask me if this is yours? Let me guess, you think it’s his all of a sudden?”

I shake my head and step back, needing distance. “Sorry if it’s hard for me to accept that my girl has fucked all my friends.”

The words are out and I can’t take them back. I swore I would never judge her, and I just did. I took a piece of her heart and smashed it into the ground. I don’t think Callie is a slut. Never have.

Her face crumbles, denial turning to anger. “And it should be easy for me to accept you’ve probably fucked half the female population here in Chicago, not to mention how many puck bunnies you’ve had in all the other cities?” she asks, tears rolling down her cheeks, the look of shock disappearing from her devastatingly beautiful face.

“What do you want me to say?” I fold my arms over my chest. I basically called her a slut. I have no room to argue.

“Screw this.” Callie turns to walk away, but I grab her arm.

“Where are you going? Tell me how much you hate me. Don’t hold back.” I want her to hate me. She should, and it’s like I’m trying to make sure she does.

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