Page 114 of Falling Back to You

As the nostalgic intro music entered the living room, Paisley lifted her white teacup, decorated with a pretty pattern of blue forget-me-nots. “To culture. And friends.”

Juliet and I lifted our mugs of herbal tea. “Hear! Hear!”

Chapter thirty-eight

Cal

Anger and elation were a weird cocktail of emotions.

On the one hand, I couldn’t stop smiling. Not even Jerry hissing at me while I tried to sneak around him into the grocery store earlier or the five miles I’d run on my treadmill could dim the events of last night.

But on the other hand . . .

I smacked the punching bag in rapid succession, remembering the paparazzi. I hated that Noelle was subjected to that kind of pressure. While I did my best to interact with fans in a jovial way, I’d nearly lost it when they kept badgering us about our relationship status. What was this, junior high? Who’s dating who wasn’t that deep.

My phone rang, interrupting my musings. Gabe Carson’s name flashed across the screen, and I fumbled with my gloves trying to answer it. “Hey, man, what’s up?” I asked, wiping my neck with a towel.

“Is this a bad time?” Gabe asked.

“Nope, Serenity Springs is surprisingly lacking in chaotic events at the moment.”

Noelle’s arrival had been the most chaotic thing to happen to this town in months. Excluding Paisley’s bout with amnesia over the summer and Jerry’s viral TikTok moment in May, which landed him as the town mascot with official merch. And no, those things weren’t directly related.

Gabe chuckled. While he and Greyson were closer given their time in the military together, I’d gotten the chance to hang out with him and his family, too, over the years, including when they came to town for a home game after Christmas last year. I had mad respect for the guy. Plus, his youngest son was a huge Chargers fan, so points for solid parenting.

“I was hoping for a favour,” Gabe said.

“For you? Anything, man.”

“You might regret that.” He chuckled. “We have tickets to Sunday’s San Diego game next week as a surprise for Jackson’s birthday. Any chance we could rope you into dinner while you’re in town?”

“Consider me there. Just let me have a look at the schedule so Coach doesn’t eat me alive for not sticking to the plan.” Which wouldn’t be the first time. Sometimes I got a bit too enthusiastic in trying to connect with fans, particularly the kids.

I scrolled through my phone calendar, looking at the travel itinerary. “We’re heading out Monday afternoon, but we get in on Friday. I could do dinner that night—wait, nope, there’s something planned there. How about Sunday night since it’s an afternoon game?”

Gabe murmured something to someone in the background, probably his wife, Ivy. “Works for us,” he said to me.

“I’ll pencil you guys in.” I tapped out a quick note. “Tell Ivy and the kids hey.”

“Will do. And thanks, Cal. I’ll text you with a few more details so we can iron things out.”

“Sounds good. Talk soon.”

I hung up and grinned in the empty gym. Myles was going to be so jealous. We had an unofficial rivalry for ten-year-old Jackson Carson’s admiration. The kid was a Cal Satterfield fan through and through, much to Myles’s chagrin. But he still tried to win the kid to his side.

Knowing kids looked up to me kept me grounded. I didn’t want to be the guy I used to be. The one that was hurting and used that hurt and anger as an excuse for bad behaviour. I wanted to be a role model worth looking up to.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” I cooed, giving Rosie Cotton a full head massage. “Yes, you are.”

She melted into me with a groan, rolling to offer her belly for scratches. How could I refuse that face? I couldn’t; I wasn’t a heathen.

Greyson had brought her over for guy time after Paisley and Juliet had kidnapped Noelle for a girls’ night at their place.

I was no dummy. Girls’ night was code for: we know you went on a date with Cal last night, so tell us everything. And then Greyson showed up on my doorstep. I told you this town was nosy. But so were the Satterfields.

Greyson popped out the patio door, two sarsaparillas in hand, and joined me at the firepit.

“Hey, you got my message!”