Chapter 24 - Stone

Despite the break that I unwillingly agreed to, mine and Callum’s chemistry on the ice hasn’t suffered much. I’d like to think that means whatever is bothering him isn’t anything we can’t work past. That I’ll have him back soon. In my bed. In my arms. On my cock.

Fuck, I miss him.

And it’s only been a few days.

There’s no avoiding each other during practice and games, but because there’s no real hostility between us, things have at least been civil. It helps that he seems to be avoiding Eric a bit more than usual. I don’t know if that has anything to do with knowing my feelings toward the prick or if something happened between them.

The first time I suspected that, Eric might have ended up crumpled in a pile at the edge of the boards during a scrimmage.

During our anatomy classes, I sit behind Callum instead of next to him because we can’t avoid each other completely there either. I’m giving him time, but I won’t let him forget me. I’ll stay as close as I can get away with.

Every time my eyes lock with his, I see a sadness in them. A longing.

He’s hurting himself as much as he is me by putting this separation between us.

Or maybe punishing himself.

Either way, I fucking hate it.

If I respected him any less than I do, I’d be putting an end to it.

At least we won our first game of the weekend tonight, but only by a point. Normally, since it was a home game, I would’ve offered Callum a ride home afterward. Or insisted once again that he come home with me. However, Jesse was there, and I watched them get into his car together after the game.

He’s really fucking lucky he’s Callum’s roommate.

Had it been Eric, the stench of burning rubber would’ve been filling the chilly night air as I peeled out after them.

Instead, I head home while abiding traffic laws.

A few of the guys were going out for beers after the game, but when Callum declined the invitation, I felt like it was okay for me to do so too. The last thing I feel like doing tonight is pretending as if I’m in a good mood when I’m definitely not.

Fortunately, it’s not the kind of mood that requires a certain type of release. Besides, even if it was, I don’t think I could go through with it. Not without Callum. Not when I’ve promised him I’d give him that again soon.

I’ll have him back eventually. I should save it.

I just wish I knew what was going on with him so I could fucking fix it.

Once I’m home, I get a quick shower and throw on some basketball shorts. I grab a protein bar and a bag of Funyuns and crash onto the couch. I’m too wiped to try to figure something else out for dinner, and I’m not feeling all that hungry anyway. I eat half the protein bar and a few chips before pulling out my phone and opening my texts with Callum.

I’m assuming giving him time includes giving him space too. But he’s also well aware that I won’t be letting him go without a fight.

With anyone else, I’d be throwing my pride out the window. With Callum, I don’t have any to begin with.

So I text him.

Me: Figure your shit out yet?

He doesn’t read the message right away.

Again, I have no pride to hurt when it comes to him by staring at the screen until the message says read. However, even after that, several minutes go by before he’s typing out a reply. A short ass one at that.

Callum: No.

I blow out a breath and lean back against the cushions. I swear he’s one of the most stubborn men I’ve ever known.

No wonder he plays hockey.

Me: Is it anything I can help with?

Callum: No.

Next time he wants it rough, I’m going to have no problem obliging.

I’m about to give up for the night—with plans on starting right back up first thing in the morning—when another text comes through.

Callum: Why do you think some people do bad things?

Finally . Now we’re getting somewhere.

However, it’s a riddle. One I have to crack.

Is he talking about himself? Has he been feeling guilty for how much he enjoys death?

Is he talking about me? Has he been having second thoughts about sharing a bed with a murderer?

Or is he talking about someone else entirely?

Me: Depends. What kind of people are we talking about?

I watch for about two minutes while those dots dance on my screen.

Callum: The kind of people that you know good exists in them because you’ve seen it. But you’ve also seen the bad. Maybe they’re more bad than good. Maybe they have psychopathic tendencies. Or maybe they’re really just psychopaths. The kind of people who would never hurt you but would hurt other people. Is it just the way they’re wired?

Okay, so it’s about me.

Did he find out I killed his stepdad? That seems unlikely. If he had, I suspect he’d be more direct.

Maybe I shouldn’t have told him the truth about my murderous urges after all? Maybe I should’ve told him the version of the truth my sister knows instead, the one that had I told him to begin with might have led to him piecing together the puzzle of who really killed his stepdad.

I should’ve told him both. I’d rather him know everything.

Which means I need to stop keeping secrets from him. All of them.

Of course, I can’t tell him every truth over the phone, which is why he’s texting in code.

Me: That’s part of it. But maybe sometimes they have more reasons than that. Maybe they indulge in that side of themselves while also searching for some kind of higher purpose or absolution. Something that helps them feel a little less bad than they really are.

Callum: I guess we’re all kind of fighting the darkness of our minds.

Me: Not fighting. We’re surviving it.

A few minutes go by before he replies.

Callum: Goodnight, Stone.

Me: Goodnight, Callum.

I almost tell him he’s mine.

I almost tell him I’m coming to get him.

I almost tell him what I’ve been dying to tell him for weeks.

Instead, I go to bed. Because that’s what I have to do for him right now.

Our second game of the weekend doesn’t go as well as the first. It’s another one-point game, except this time, the one point is in favor of the other team.

I even somehow managed to keep myself in check after one of the opposing team’s sticks hit Callum above the shoulders while they were battling in the slot. While I let that player skate off to the penalty box, I caught Callum’s gaze. I can’t say it was filled with disappointment, but I know he was at least a little proud.

Until that player who high-sticked him was back on the ice and I accidentally tripped him on the next play.

If he thought I didn’t care anymore, he was wrong.

If anything, he has me wrapped so tightly around his finger that I was willing to exact revenge to a lesser degree and take a minor penalty instead of a major one. However, if he ever hopes for anything less, I don’t think I’m capable of holding myself back that much.

Even though I was able to somewhat restrain myself, we still lost.

Callum seemed more rested, but there was still something that worried me. Like he wasn’t fully there . Too inside his own head. Not that I’m blaming the loss on him. None of us played our best game. I’d sooner blame all the guys who went out to celebrate last night.

They’re definitely not celebrating tonight.

As I leave the locker room, I see Callum heading for the back exit. I haven’t seen Jesse here tonight, so I wonder if he’s planning on walking home. I have to head out to the lot anyway, so it’s not technically stalking when I follow after him.

We’re halfway through the staff and student parking lot, and Callum continues on. So, yeah, it looks like he’s walking home.

Or planning on it anyway.

But I’ve been planning something different.