Maybe that was a good thing. If he’d been there, I’d have been tempted to go into his room, slide into bed beside him, and let him be the big spoon. That wasn’t who we were, but I didn’t think Callum would deny me that comfort.
Didn’t matter. He wasn’t there. He was in Pasadena, sleeping in some hotel, dreaming about pucks and nets and checking and overtime. Presumably alone. Probably alone.
They’d have arrived mid-afternoon. How long would it take to pick up a gay man in a strange city?
Although they played Pasadena a lot. Callum was probably pretty familiar with the town by now. He might even have a regular fuck-buddy there.
I’d promised we were casual but somehow, over the past month, I’d slipped into being not-so-casual. The burn down in my gut when I thought about Callum in another man’s bed was a clear warning. I’d had a lot of one-night stands in my life, and I’d thought this would be no different, but of course it was. Whenever Callum lent a hand with a chore, or was there for Jos, it became different. Every time I saw him in the kitchen, sweaty from a run or morning-rumpled, making breakfast, sex and friendship collided into something more.
Fuck.
The past month of rearranged life would’ve been almost unbearable without Callum, and now I was stuck. Pining like some seventh-grader with a crush. Except with more sex.
Despite the note from Callum at my bedside, I hadn’t talked to Jos about us yet. With this work shift, we didn’t cross paths unless I got up early to see him before school. He was in class when I headed to work, and in bed when I got home.
Tomorrow. Once I’d had some sleep and my brain wasn’t throbbing, I’d tackle that job.
I climbed the stairs to my room, and I was thinking about Callum, or maybe trying not to think about Callum. The habits of a lifetime failed me, and I put my weight on that traitor step. The sick-cow moan of bending wood echoed in the narrow staircase. I froze.Shit. I hoped I hadn’t woken Isabelle. If I was going to be that careless, I should get a big glow-in-the-dark sticker and mark the spot.
Sounds from below suggested I had disturbed her, and I waited there on the stairs, to reassure her no one was breaking in or being murdered. But it was Jos who showed up at the bottom of the staircase. “Zeke?”
“Shh,” I whispered. “Just getting home. Go back to bed.”
Instead of doing as he was told, he started climbing towards me. “Your face! What happened?”
Giving in to the inevitable, I waved him my way, keeping my voice low. “Come on up to my room. Isabelle’s sleeping. Watch that step.” I pointed.
“Duh. I know.” Jos stepped over the noisy one and followed me, as I led the way.
Once we were inside with the door closed, I turned to face him. “Keep your voice down, okay?”
“What happened?”
“No big deal.” I touched my aching nose. “Just a bump. I bet Callum’s teammates get worse every game.”
“Someone hit you?”
“No, like I said. I was arresting them, they didn’t want to be arrested, they caught me with an elbow. No punching involved.”
“Are they in jail now?’
“Yeah.” And, fuck my life, I had a text that the Crown Prosecutor wanted to press the assaulting-an-officer charge, probably to get them to take a plea deal, so I had to go in and get my bruises documented tomorrow.
“Why were you arresting them?”
“Sorry, I can’t discuss cases with you. It wasn’t a big deal, though. They’d have been out on the street tomorrow if they hadn’t resisted.”
“I hate your job.” Jos sat on the end of my bed. “I hate the shifts and, just, everything.”
“I’m sorry. How was Isabelle? She seems nice.”
“She was okay.” Jos’s cheeks coloured and I wondered if he had a bit of a crush. Isabelle was nineteen, vivacious, and fashion-model pretty. “She made pasta for dinner and she didn’t bug me about things.”
“So it’s okay if I hire her when Callum and I can’t be here?”
“I guess.”
I wondered if this was a natural way for me to get more distance from Callum. Distance I didn’t want, but probably needed. “Maybe I can just hire her regularly, and Callum can move back home?”
