“Their loss is my gain. I think I’m going to wrap you around me and stay like that all day.”
Callie waited for something inside of her to resist that idea, but it never came. Was this how normal people felt in the morning? When people talked about wanting to spend all day curled up in bed, she’d always been so confused. Turned out that disconnect stemmed from the fact that she hadn’t yet met the right person to share her bed with. Then again, she wasn’t sure the impulse applied only to bed. Lately, Max had made her want a lot of things she’d never wanted before.
The thought should’ve scared her more than it did, and certainly it raised plenty of questions, but for the first time they all seemed to start with “how” instead of “why.” And the “how” seemed easier to answer this morning than ever before. Maybe she didn’t have all the details, but at least they weren’t hypothetical. She had seen other people make relationships work. They were here this weekend because Ella had managed to meet, date, fall in love with, and marry someone, all while curling professionally and working full-time. Plenty of curlers did the same things every day. Sure, there were challenges unique to her and Max’s situation, but they’d already come so far from where they’d started.
She kissed along Max’s shoulder to the soft line where her hair met her neck, as arousal and sentimentality met and melded inside of her. Max had already given her more in the way of trust and openness and vulnerability than any other relationship ever had. Shouldn’t Callie at least try to do the same? She didn’t want to let her foot off the gas when it came to her career, but surely if Max could make some concessions to follow her around, she could try to be more available.
Reaching the other side of Max’s neck, she pressed her lips close to her ear and whispered, “I’m going to skip practice tonight.”
Max’s muscles tensed beneath her.
She laughed softly. “Oh sure, that gets your attention.”
“I must have misheard you. I thought you said you were skipping practice after already taking three days off.”
“You heard correctly.” Callie bit her shoulder. “That is, if you want to stay here for one more day. I don’t want to presume anything, but I thought we could go tobogganing, or cross-country skiing . . . or do other stuff.”
“Other stuff, please.”
“Yeah?” She rolled her hips again, enjoying the friction between them. “Want to be more specific there?”
“You’re the one wrecking the plans. I think you should have to—”
Whatever she’d been about to say died on her lips as the shrill ring of a cell phone shattered the silence around them.
They both groaned.
It rang again.
“Leave it,.” Max grumbled.
“That’s not my ringtone.” Callie rolled off her. “It’s yours.”
“Mine?” Max sounded confused. “No one calls me.”
The phone rang again, and Callie reached across her to snag it off the bedside table. Glancing at the screen, she said, “It’s someone called ‘Flip.’”
Max sat up quickly and grabbed the phone, offering only the clipped explanation of “my boss.”
“So much for leaving it.” Callie rolled onto her back, and Max slipped out of arm’s length to perch on the edge of the bed.
“Hey, Flip, what’s up?” Pausing, listening. “Yeah, sorry . . . happy New Year to you, too.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Of course. I’m always working.”
Callie snorted softly. Max had most certainly not been working, but she didn’t blame her for fudging on that fact. She stared at the exposed wooden beams of the cabin, listening to the only side of the conversation she could hear and waiting for the moment they could get back to the so-called work Flip had interrupted.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that . . . Uh-huh. Bad timing for his wife, too . . . No, it’s not funny. Come on, Flip, you know I’d never make light of . . . well, any of it. I understand better than most how bad these things can be to live through.”
Callie rolled onto her side as Max’s voice turned serious.
“I am a professional.”
There was another long pause while Flip presumably did all the talking, but he must have been saying something big, because the muscles in Max’s back tightened noticeably while her shoulders rose and fell more quickly with each breath.
“I understand. It won’t be a problem. I promise. I’m so far past all that now. I can be in New Jersey tomorrow morning. I made my name there once. I can remake it there now.”
Callie sat up. Had she heard correctly? Did Max just offer to go to New Jersey?
“I really appreciate this. I won’t let you down again,” Max said, her voice thick with emotions Callie couldn’t read. Then she dropped the phone and flopped back onto the bed with a massive sigh.
Callie waited for some explanation, and when one didn’t come, she finally said, “Um, that sounded . . . important.”
“Yeah,” Max croaked. “Sorry, I’m in a bit of shock. That was my boss at the network.”
“I got that much.”
“One of my former colleagues who covered the Giants, the football ones, not the baseball ones, got into a car accident this morning.”
“Oh no.”
“He’s alive,” Max said quickly, “but he may wish he wasn’t before it’s all over, because he blew twice the legal limit in a Breathalyzer, and the woman in the car with him at 2 a.m. on New Year’s Day wasn’t his wife.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah. She’s a stripper—the woman in the car, not his wife. His wife is a stay at home, society mother of three.”
“This story keeps getting better and better.”
“Actually, it does, not for him but for me, because there’s now a pending investigation, or likely several of them, and he’s been put on leave, which means the network needs someone to cover the Giants.”
The pieces started to fall together. “And they asked you?”
Max nodded, her grin spreading. “They want me to cover the game this weekend.”
Callie’s heart beat a little faster, but she continued to speak slowly. “Wow, that’s a big deal. You got your big break covering the Giants.”
Max rolled over on her stomach. “You remembered.”
“Of course.” Callie reached out and tousled her hair. “In case you haven’t noticed, I kind of like you.”
Max captured her hand in her own and kissed the palm. “I kind of like you, too.”
“But you have to go to New Jersey.” Callie tried to keep her tone light.
“I do.” Max sat up again. “This is a really big chance for me, and it would be kind of fitting if I got back to the top covering the team that got me there the first time around.”
Callie nodded, not quite sharing the enthusiasm growing in Max’s voice, but wanting to be supportive nonetheless. It was just one game, and if Max was getting back to work, she should probably do the same. They both began to pull on some of the various clothing items they’d tossed around the tiny cabin at different points throughout the last few days.
She smiled as she found one of her sports bras hanging from the corner of the radiator. She wished they could go back to doing whatever they’d been doing when it had landed there, but maybe they could pick up where they left off when they were both back in Buffalo. “So, you’ll fly back here on Monday or Tuesday?”
Max stopped moving and turned to face her, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “I’m not sure. We’ll have to play that by ear, depending on if the Giants win or not.”
Callie pressed her lips together to hold in the barrage of questions banging through her brain as she waited for Max to elaborate.
“They need someone to cover the rest of their season, however long that may be, so if they win this weekend, they’ll play again next weekend.”
“We play next weekend,” Callie said flatly after doing the math in her head. “How many more weeks are in the playoffs?”
Max
shifted from one bare foot to the other. “The Super Bowl is the first weekend in February. It’s in Miami this year.”
“That’s the same time as the national championships . . . in Spokane.” Callie sat back on the edge of the bed as the room began to spin. “You’re not coming back, are you? Even if the Giants lose, you will have won. You’re done here.”
Max sighed. “I’m going to miss this, Callie.”
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat.
“You understand, right?”
Callie nodded, even though she wasn’t sure she understood everything, or maybe she understood more than she wanted to. Max had never been anything but honest about how much her career meant to her. It was one of the things that had brought them together, and yet Callie had been thinking about letting herself want more. No, she hadn’t been thinking about it. She’d been acting on those desires. She’d shared parts of her life with Max that she hadn’t shared with anyone. Sure, it had been only a short time, but the steps that might’ve seemed small to other people had felt momentous to her. It burned a little bit to realize they hadn’t felt the same way to Max. Still, she fought to keep an even keel. “Yeah, I get it. I guess.”
“Do you?” Max’s smile twisted. “I know it’s not ideal timing, but I kind of thought you of all people would be happy for me. I thought you’d recognize what a big deal it is for me to move up another level, or like six levels, because that’s what the Super Bowl would mean for me.”
“Six levels above what?” Callie found her voice. “Six levels above covering me and my team? Above covering the sport I kill myself working to perfect?”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” Max rubbed her face. “Look, I wish I could do both. I really do. If I could be in Miami and Spokane at the same time, I would, but we both knew this would happen someday.”
She wasn’t wrong, and as much as the little dig about levels stung, that wasn’t even why Callie was upset. She couldn’t even put her finger on all the reasons, but from the tightness spreading through her chest, she suspected it was much more complex than a scheduling conflict. She hadn’t really expected them to live happily ever after, had she? No, she hadn’t thought that far in advance, but she thought they had more than Max was conveying right now. Maybe that’s what hurt most. The choice didn’t seem to hurt Max at all. And it was a choice. Max had made a choice to end everything they’d had and everything they could have had without a moment’s hesitation. How could she possibly convey her own muddled mess of emotions to someone who so clearly knew what mattered most to her?
“Yeah, I guess this was bound to happen eventually,” she finally said, letting Max off the hook and hoping she could hold it together long enough to see her off without revealing how much she hated that fact. “Why don’t you go ahead and take the car back to Buffalo? I’ll get a ride later with Layla after we make sure Ella doesn’t need any more help here.”
Max stared at her again, her eyes once again the color of ice on an overcast day.
Callie didn’t know what else to say, so she began to toss her own things into an open suitcase in the hopes it would speed Max’s own departure. She might not know what came after this part, but she did know she didn’t want to drag it out.
“Maybe I’ll get some time off after the football season,” Max offered as she collected her toiletries. “I could always come back to Buffalo for a vacation.”
She recognized the comment as a peace offering, but the last word stuck in her like a splinter. “I don’t think I’ll have time for any vacations between the national championships and the world championship.”
“Right, work. I understand.” Max zipped up her bag and turned to face her again, a new emotion Callie had never seen in her eyes. Regret? Guilt? Pity?
She didn’t need any of them. Despite whatever Max thought, her life wasn’t some unfortunate subpar existence or pale shadow of brighter lights. She had a job she loved, people she trusted, a drive that gave meaning to her days, and sure, maybe lately she had let herself wish for something more, but that didn’t mean she needed it from someone who met her passion with pity.
Max picked up her bag and moved toward her, then stopped as if second-guessing herself. Callie couldn’t decide what would be worse, kissing her one more time, or not.
“Maybe I could come to the world championships and cheer you on.” Max punctuated the offer with a fake smile.
She shook her head and forced the hurt from her voice. She couldn’t take another awkward exchange, not after all the times everything had been so easy and natural between them. “Thank you, really, but I don’t see the point of dragging this out. I’ll be working at Worlds. You won’t be.”
Max grimaced. “Really? That’s the only way this had any value? It only worked when we were both working?”
She considered the question. Was that true? They were only as good as their jobs? It didn’t seem right. Maybe their jobs had brought them together and kept them there long enough to bond, but the last few weeks hadn’t been about work. When had they become more? More importantly, could they still be? She didn’t get the chance to fully form the questions, much less answer them, before Max shook her head.
“I can’t believe this is happening again. I thought you were different.”
“Different from what?”
“From Sylvia.”
Callie took a step back. “Excuse me?”
“Here I was, worried about your feelings, and you’re talking about work. Why not just come out and ask who’s going to fill in for me on your press coverage? I’m sure Flip will send someone qualified, but I’d be happy to send you a text when I hear.”
Her face burned, and the implications of Max’s last few comments seeped through her confusion. “My coverage?”
“Sure. How could I have been so stupid? At least you were honest. You always said your team came first. I should’ve known that as soon as I wasn’t a curling reporter anymore, I wouldn’t be part of your master plan, either. Don’t worry. I know how this goes. I won’t play the fool this time.” She put her hand on the doorknob, her shoulders up and her back rigid. She took a deep breath as if bracing herself to cross the threshold.
“How dare you?” Callie snapped. “Are you really going to say something like that and then walk away? You horrible coward.”
If she thought she’d been hurt before, she didn’t know what this new feeling ripping through her must be. Pain was certainly a major part of it, but sadness had succumbed to rage.
“I don’t think—”
“Yeah, don’t think.” Callie cut her off. “Don’t think you know what I’m thinking about. You’re wrong, stupidly wrong, embarrassingly wrong, and if you think I’m like Sylvia in any way, you’re not just wrong, you’re offensive.”
“You are so fixated on—”
“Stop,” she snapped again. “You don’t get to tell me anything else about me. You don’t get to say things like you just said and then make pronouncements about me. You’re the one who’s walking out, not me. You’re the one who used me as a stepping-stone to something you wanted. And I was going to let you go.”
She laughed bitterly. “No matter how much it hurt my heart or my pride, I was going to shut my mouth and let you walk out the door, but you do not get to rewrite the narrative with your back to me. You don’t get to become a fiction writer when it suits you. You’re the one who took what you wanted as long as it was useful, and then dropped it the second you had a better offer.”
“No.” Max shook her head. “I’m not writing fiction. I was always honest about what I was doing here.”
“Were you?”
A muscle in her jaw twisted. “I made no promises.”
“Actually, you did.” Callie folded her arms across her chest. “You promised me a full season. You promised me a fair chance. You promised me you didn’t shy away from a challenge. You lied, Max. You’re the one who let me down, not the other way around. You’re just one more person in my life w
ho sees curling as some sideshow or hobby. You’ve never seen me as a serious athlete or considered my dreams as worthy as yours.”
“I’m doing my job,” Max said feebly. “I’ve always been honest—”
“No. You had a job to do here. You took this job. You said you took your work seriously. Walking out a month before you finish isn’t serious unless you didn’t think this assignment was a real job to begin with”—she snorted—“in which case, maybe I should take a page from your book and say, ‘Don’t worry. I’ve been here before. I know how this goes.’”
“That’s not fair.”
“But it’s true.” She pushed back, no longer fighting to hold her anger at bay. “Isn’t it? You want to talk about how I’m just like everyone else in your life? Well, you’re just a tired old cliché in mine, and I’m tired of people who don’t see my dreams as on a par with their own. I have plenty of people in my life who don’t think what I do matters as much as a ‘real job,’ or is too frivolous for the energy I give it, or don’t think I have what it takes to be an elite anything. I don’t need you to join that chorus with your ‘real sport’ refrain.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did. You can’t say you’re serious about your job and then switch jobs unless you didn’t think the job you had was less valuable than the one you’re leaving it for.”
That little muscle in Max’s jaw twitched again, and Callie knew she’d landed another blow. She might as well end this while she had her on the ropes, because if she had learned anything about Max, it was that when she got knocked down, she always got back up.
“I’ve always been honest with you, Max, and all I ever wanted from you was some way to make us work, in all our entirety. Maybe I was asking for a fairy tale, or maybe it was just stupid to ask for it from someone who was only killing time until something better came along.”
She took a deep breath, hating the way her body shook as she exhaled. “Either way, I release you. I don’t need your company, your pity, your guilt, your broken promises. You can take them all with you, but do me a favor and keep whatever fiction you’re spinning to yourself on your way out.”
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