Which was exactly why he was here now, trying to forget all about it.
There was nothing quite as humiliating as putting yourself out there like that and getting nothing in return, he thought. Roxy had given him a blank stare as though she couldn’t comprehend why it was an issue. Rather than listen to her confirm that his assumption was true, that she didn’t feel the same as he did, he’d finally done what he should have done when she asked for space. He’d gotten into his car and left.
Christian brought his hand to his face, bracing his fingertips against his forehead as though trying to reason through what he’d just heard. “Hold on. Roxy was upset and said she needed some time to herself, then you flipped out and accused her of caring less about you than you do about her?”
Callan nodded.
“What did she say to that?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Not a word. So I told her to take all the alone time she needed and I left.”
Christian stared at him for a long moment. “Did you do this number as you said that?” he asked, lifting his hands up in front of him as if warding someone off.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Christian broke into laughter. “Dude, you went full-on diva.”
Callan’s mouth fell open.
“God, I would’ve loved to have seen that,” Christian said between chortles of laughter. He signaled to the circulating beer vendor on the stairs beside them and held up two fingers. “It sounds like something out of a nineties teen rom-com with you starring as the female lead.”
Though the statement was completely sexist, Callan saw the truth in it. It had a hot flush working its way along the back of his neck.
“You know what’s even worse?” Callan said as they accepted their beers and paid the vendor.
“What?”
“I had bought Roxy her favorite chocolate cupcake to surprise her and left it in my car. When I left her, I ate the damn thing myself.”
Christian did his best to keep a straight face. “You mean you ate your feelings?”
“Every last, slightly melted bite.”
This time when Christian laughed, he joined in. His friend was right. This was why he had dragged him out that evening.
“Hey,” Christian said. “Try not to sweat it. I’m sure Roxy will reach out when she’s in a better mood.”
“Actually, she already did.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. “I was replying to her when you got here earlier and distracted me.”
Christian scanned the last couple of texts on the screen. “She apologized.”
“Yeah.” And he wasn’t sure he wanted to know exactly what she had apologized for since it was entirely possible she was sorry she didn’t feel the same about him.
“She said she wants to get together tonight to talk about it,” Christian pointed out.
“Yeah, but we’re already here.” And maybe he wasn’t ready to revisit their conversation for the same reason.
Christian rolled his eyes. “You’re a smart guy, Murph, but you’re being a fucking idiot. Do you realize what Roxy probably thinks we’re out doing right now?”
It took a moment. Then Callan’s eyes widened.
“Exactly,” Christian nodded. “She’s remembering Nightscape.”
“Shit.”
He really was being a fucking idiot.
Christian put down his beer and held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
Too upset with himself to argue, Callan handed him the phone. Christian tapped the camera icon next to the text box, then tapped the invert button to flip the camera for a selfie.
“Turn and smile,” he instructed.
Callan turned in his seat so the field was visible behind them and managed a smile. Christian made a ridiculous “What’s up?” sign with his hand and snapped the pic before handing the phone back.
“I just made an ass out of myself for that photo,” Christian said as he reached for his beer. “Tell her something nice and arrange to meet her after practice tomorrow.”
“Yes, Mom.”
He tapped the text bar under the photo and typed, Sry. Got distracted. Christian just caught a foul ball that’ll make the highlight reels. Keep an eye out. Meet tom after practice?
Her response came through a minute later. Nice pic. Will stalk YouTube. I’ll be here tom. Come by whenever and text so I can let you in. Say hi to Christian.
“She says—” Callan started to say.
“Hi,” Christian interrupted. “I’m reading over your shoulder. Are we good now?”
For the first time since leaving Roxy earlier, he finally took an unrestricted breath. “Yeah, man. Thanks.”
“Just remember this the next time I need a wingman.”
“I’m all yours.”
* * *
Nearly all The Siege’s veterans and some of their newly assigned players showed up at the practice rink the following morning. Having anticipated that once word about the coaches’ visit made the rounds, Callan and Christian left the ballgame at the end of the eighth inning—by which time Atlanta was up by three runs—so they could get some sleep in anticipation of arriving at the ice first. They had both stretched and started their warmups by the time Adam LeFranc joined them.
“You’re here early, fellas,” the captain said good-naturedly as he skated across the ice. “I figured you might skip today’s practice after the game last night.”
Well, that answered that, Callan mused. Everyone on the team had likely heard about Christian’s catch that had, indeed, made every sports highlight reel. Commentators observed how naturally Christian had reacted and how nonchalant Callan was when he realized what had happened, like it was just par for the course for them.
The news feeds were also making a big deal out of Christian’s generosity in giving the ball to the little boy, as well as Callan and Christian signing autographs and posing for the fan photo. While they hadn’t done it for the PR, the publicity wouldn’t hurt The Siege.
“How’s the hand, Reinhardt?” Adam asked.
“Try me and find out,” Christian said from in front of the net.
Adam grinned. “I look forward to it.”
Callan had already checked with his friend, whose hand was perfectly fine after an icing session the night before. The three of them got to work on some shooting drills once Adam was warmed up. As more players arrived, they changed up their drills to include them. Callan made a point of interacting with everyone to help build the team’s camaraderie, something he excelled at. It didn’t matter if it was the first time he’d met a guy, he could make him feel as though they were already friends.
It helped the practice feel more fun and less like a chore. He knew his efforts were paying off when there were just as many laughs as curses coming from his teammates as they went through their drills.
Elias, on the other hand, was being an absolute jagoff. He kept getting in the faces of the younger players, issuing snarky comments any time they made a mistake.
“You’re never gonna make the cut if you play like that,” he said to one of the rookies who had just mishandled the puck.
“It’s not like you’re flawless over there, Bouch,” Adam said as he worked the puck closer to Elias. The captain pulled a maneuver that danced the puck between Elias’ skates as he easily sped past him. “Looks like those reflexes need some work.”