I raise a shoulder before dropping it half-heartedly. “Wallowing like this makes me. . .”
“What?”
I stare unseeingly at the dark grass beneath my feet and prod the earth with the edge of the cricket bat. An answer rests at the tip of my tongue but I hesitate, knowing I’ll sound like an ungrateful brat.
Blue and pink sneakers enter my field of vision, forcing me to raise my head.
“Whatever it is, it’s not going to be as bad as you think,” Alia says, worry etched across her features. Her support has my shoulders slowly relaxing.
“It makes me think about things I don’t like to linger on,” I admit. “Like, if I sucked at hockey, what would I be without it? It’s been the one consistent thing in my life. I. . . maybe I’m not even making sense.”
“You don’t want to lose what you love. I get it,” she says. “You have a sense of self-worth attached to your career and the idea of not having it is scary.”
With an uncanny ability to draw out my deepest fears with the gentlest hand, Alia defines my problem in a way I’ve not been able to.
“You’re allowed to have doubts, Cal. You’re allowed to have bad days and tough moments.”
“But—”
“No buts. You don’t always have to put on a happy mask because you think that’s what the world expects from you. Yes, you live a great life. That doesn’t negate your feelings. Let someone else take care of you when you’re feeling low instead of forcing yourself to look at the bright side. You gave me a safe space whenever I needed it, and that’s made me stronger. If you’re unable to do that for yourself, I’ll be happy to be your safe space instead.”
The thundering in my chest is so rapid, it’d be a miracle if my ribs aren’t bruised. Alia runs the tips of her fingers down the side of my jaw in a gentle glide that has me leaning into her touch. Like she’s caressed my soul and captured it in her delicate palm.
“Alia,” I croak, unable to form words. Emotions knot tightly within my throat making it hard for me to swallow. Her eyes are as soft as her touch when she speaks to me in the same tone one would use with a child who’s scraped his knee and needs his wound kissed better.
“You’re an excellent hockey player. Don’t let a few bad games get you down. If you weren’t a hockey player, you’d still be you. Callum Finnigan. The man who makes everything better by being present. And, when you retire, I hope you’ll fill your life with some purpose that makes you happy. Your mere presence brings me joy and I have no doubt that, with or without hockey, you’ll still be the most incredible man I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.”
Pressure builds behind my eyes, an overwhelming urge to sweep her up and tuck her away from all the bad in the world rushing every pore of my being. Her words mean more than she can ever know.
I’ve not had any great failures or tragedies in life, so I’ve always been the cheerful one. The one who takes everything in stride. I’ve played that part so well for years, I’ve forgotten it’s okay to feel. . . not okay.
Alia’s words soothe me in a way I’ve craved. With her, I feelworthy.
My lips find her forehead as her hand rests over my galloping heart, unable to hold back a confession.
“The privilege is mine.”
39
CALLUM
Ahalf hour later, I’ve learned more about cricket than I thought possible. Not because I’ve discovered a hidden talent for it, but because Alia is a wonderful instructor.
Besides, the way she lights up every time I call her ‘Coach’? Fucking adorable. Seeing her excitedly cheer for me when I swing the bat just right makes me want to push her down on the grass and kiss her senseless.
I’m so enamored with this woman, I want to be around her all the time.
I’m glad I heeded the impulse to come visit Alia instead of going home and wallowing alone after tonight’s loss. Even now, as we wind down our game and reach my car, I’m loath to end our impromptu date.
“Are you coming to Family Skate night?” I ask, catching the ball she tosses me. I drop our equipment into the open duffel and shut the trunk.
“I want to. I’ve missed the ones Rohan invited me to before.”
“My folks are coming,” I add unnecessarily. Alia blinks, unsure how to respond to that tidbit. Hell, I don’t even know why I said it except it felt relevant somehow. I clear my throat to move past the odd moment of silence. “All the families will be around. You should come.”
“I think I will,” she agrees. “I have a meeting with my old coach right before, but I should be done in time for the event.”
“Something important?”