06. Trouble

I heard the door creak open before I saw him, my Father, his tall frame silhouetted against the bright hallway lights. He carried a hockey stick over his shoulder, his grin easy but uncertain.

"You ready to learn how real skaters do it?" he teased, stepping onto the rink without hesitation.

I smirked, pushing off into a slow glide. "I don't think you can keep up."

Chris laughed, the sound echoing in the empty space. "Bold words for someone who's used to twirling around in sparkles."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the grin that tugged at my lips.

For the next hour, we skated together. He showed me quick stops and tight turns, moves that didn't rely on grace but on speed and precision. I taught him how to spin-his attempts clumsy but endearing.

The ice became our middle ground, a place where we could meet without the weight of our fractured pasts pressing down on us. For the first time, it felt like we were figuring each other out.

By the time we left the rink, my legs were sore, and my cheeks ached from smiling.

Maybe, just maybe, this autumn wouldn't be so bad after all.

The rink was now quiet except for the soft scrape of my skates against the ice. Chris leaned on his stick, watching me as I worked through a few laps. When I finally stopped, catching my breath, he stepped closer, his expression serious.

"You're good out here," he said, breaking the silence. "But there's more to you than this, isn't there?"

I frowned, the question catching me off guard. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged, but his eyes were steady, searching. "I don't know. I just get the feeling you're carrying a lot. Like you've had to figure things out the hard way."

I turned away, pretending to adjust my laces. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just imagining things."

Chris didn't push, but he didn't back off, either. "Callie, what was life like back in the city? I mean, really like?"

The air suddenly felt heavier. I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for an answer. My chest tightened, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral.

"It was fine," I said, my voice flat. "Mom worked a lot, so I had a lot of free time. Hung out with friends, went to school. Nothing crazy."

The lie tasted bitter, but I wasn't ready to unpack the truth. Not all of it, anyway.

Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "That's it? Just 'fine'?"

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around my skate laces. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

I sucked in a breath, my mind flickering back to memories I'd rather forget.

The cold metal of the police car door pressed against my back as the officer guided me inside. My hands were cuffed, my heart pounding in my chest. The shattered glass of the principal's car glinted under the streetlights, a harsh reminder of what I'd done.

"Callie, what the hell were you thinking?" Mom's voice rang in my ears hours later, her face pale with worry and anger as she paced in the cramped police station. "Do you know how hard it is to clean up messes like this? How am I supposed to keep you out of trouble if you won't even try?"

I'd just stared at her, the words lodged in my throat. How could I explain that the anger bubbling inside me didn't have an off switch? That the smashing of the windshield was the only thing that made me feel like I had control of anything?

Her voice softened then, exhaustion taking over. "You can't keep doing this, Callie. Please. I'm trying. I really am."

But she wasn't. Not really. She was working two jobs, barely home, and when she was, she was too tired to deal with me. The only person who had ever truly seen me-truly cared-was my grandmother. And even she had her limits.

I shook the memory away, blinking back the sting of tears.

"It was fine," I repeated, my voice sharper this time. "Not perfect, but whose life is?"

Chris studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You're leaving something out."

"So what if I am?" I shot back, suddenly defensive.

He sighed, his tone softer. "Callie, I'm not trying to pry. I just... I want to understand you. I feel like you've had to grow up faster than you should've."

The words hit harder than I wanted them to. I looked away, pretending to focus on my skates.

"Maybe," I admitted finally. "But it doesn't matter. I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you are." Chris's voice was steady, almost hopeful. "And I'm here, too. For whatever that's worth."

"You sure you want to know?" I asked, my tone sharp.

Chris nodded, his expression steady. "Yeah, I do. I want to know you, Callie. Not just the kid who showed up on my doorstep."

I sighed, standing upright and crossing my arms. "Fine. If you really want to know, I've been arrested before."

That got his attention. His eyes widened slightly, but to his credit, he didn't look shocked-more curious than anything else. "Arrested? For what?"

I shook my head quickly. "That's not important. Let's just say I made some bad choices and leave it at that."

Chris studied me for a long moment, clearly debating whether to push for more. Finally, he nodded. "Fair enough. But you know, whatever it was, it doesn't define who you are now."

"Yeah, sure," I muttered, not entirely convinced.

"I'm serious, Callie." His tone was firm now, but not harsh. "Everyone screws up. The important thing is what you do after."

I swallowed hard, his words settling uncomfortably in my chest. I wanted to believe him, but the weight of my mistakes was something I couldn't just brush off.

"Is this your way of saying I should try harder to be a perfect little angel?" I asked, my voice laced with sarcasm.

Chris chuckled lightly. "No, kid. Nobody's asking you to be perfect. Least of all me. I'm just saying... you've got a second chance here. Might be worth taking it."

For a moment, I didn't say anything, just let his words hang in the cold air around us. The truth was, I didn't know what to do with a second chance-or if I even deserved one.

But maybe, just maybe, he had a point.

His words lingered in the back of my mind. For now, I wasn't ready to let him all the way in. But maybe, just maybe, I could let him in a little.

••••••••

The house was quiet when we got back from the rink. The kind of quiet that feels heavier than it should, even when there's just two people in it. Chris flicked on the living room light and kicked off his boots by the door. I followed suit, slipping out of my sneakers and into the familiar chill of the hardwood floor.

"You hungry?" he asked, tossing his jacket onto the back of a chair.

"Starving," I admitted, collapsing onto the couch. My legs were sore from the skating session, but in a good way. Hockey drills weren't my thing-too quick, too rough-but I couldn't deny that learning a few of his tricks had been... fun.

Chris headed to the kitchen, opening the fridge. "Pizza okay? Or are you one of those salad-only types?"

"Pizza's fine." I snorted. "And thanks for assuming I live off lettuce."

He grinned, already dialing the number for the local pizza joint. As he ordered, I reached for the remote, flipping through channels aimlessly. The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't exactly easy either.

When he came back, he sank into the armchair across from me, stretching his legs out. "You know, you're not bad out there on the ice. For a figure skater, anyway."

"Gee, thanks," I said, rolling my eyes.

"No, really," he insisted, his tone light but sincere. "I mean, you've got the basics down-balance, speed, all that. You just need to loosen up a little."

I raised an eyebrow. "Loosen up? That's rich coming from the guy who barks orders at kids all day."

Chris laughed, a deep, genuine sound that echoed in the room. "Fair point. But hockey's different. You gotta think fast, move faster. No time to worry about how you look doing it."

"I'll stick to my twirls and sparkles, thanks," I said, smirking.

"You say that, but I saw you out there," he countered. "You were having fun. Admit it."

I hesitated, hating how easily he'd read me. "Okay, maybe a little. But don't get used to it. I'm not about to trade my figure skates for a hockey stick."

"Fair enough," Chris said, leaning back in his chair. His expression softened, like he was trying to figure something out. "You don't have to keep them up, you know."

I frowned. "Keep what up?"

"The walls," he said simply. "You're in your own house now, Callie. You don't have to act like you've got it all figured out."

The words hit harder than I wanted them to. I looked away, pretending to be interested in a commercial for car insurance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do," he said, his voice calm but steady. "You've been guarding yourself since you got here. And I get it-you don't know me, and I don't know you. But if we're gonna make this work, maybe start by letting me in a little."

I didn't respond right away. Part of me wanted to snap back, to tell him he didn't know anything about me or my life. But another part-a quieter, more vulnerable part-knew he wasn't wrong.

"Is this your way of saying I'm high maintenance?" I asked instead, deflecting with a smirk.

Chris rolled his eyes. "No, it's my way of saying you don't have to handle everything on your own. Not here."

The doorbell rang, cutting through the moment like a knife. Chris stood, grabbing his wallet from the counter. "Pizza's here. Be right back."

When he came back, he set the box on the coffee table and handed me a plate. The smell of melted cheese and pepperoni filled the room, and for a moment, it was easy to forget the weight of our conversation.

We ate in silence for a while, the movie playing in the background.

"You ever skip school in the city?" Chris asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

I froze mid-bite, narrowing my eyes at him. "Why?"

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just curious. You seem like the type who might've, I don't know, gotten 'lost' a few times."

"Define 'lost,'" I said, smirking.

He laughed, shaking his head. "Thought so."

"Fine, I skipped," I admitted, leaning back against the couch. "Once or twice."

Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Just once or twice?"

"Okay, maybe more than that," I said, rolling my eyes. "But it's not like I was robbing banks or anything."

"No, just skipping school and smashing cars, right?" he teased.

I shot him a glare, though I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Careful, Coach. You're treading on thin ice."

Chris held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll back off. But seriously, Callie, you're here for a fresh start. Don't waste it."

I looked away, his words settling uncomfortably in my chest. "Yeah, I get it."

We finished the pizza, and Chris grabbed another blanket, tossing it to me before settling back in his chair.

"You know," he said after a while, his tone thoughtful, "I wasn't exactly a model student either. Got into my fair share of trouble back in the day."

"Oh, really?" I said, arching a brow. "Like what?"

He hesitated, his gaze distant. "Let's just say I wasn't always the guy you see now. Made some stupid choices, trusted the wrong people. Took me a while to figure out who I wanted to be."

The way he said it made me think there was more to the story, but I didn't push.

"Guess we're not so different, then," I said softly.

Chris looked at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Guess not."

For the first time since I'd moved in, the tension between us felt lighter. Not gone, but manageable.

As the credits rolled on the screen, I realized something strange: for all my reluctance to be here, this moment wasn't so bad.

Maybe, just maybe, I could let my guard down. A little.

•••••••••

A/N: CHAPTER 6 DONE!!

How do y'all feel about Callie's past, we haven't seen much of it yet!!! But key word YET!!

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