Page 17 of Don’t Leave (Stay #2)

CASSIDY

M y feet stutter to a stop as my breath catches at the back of my throat. My heart thumps a painful beat as I watch my dad stare down at his phone. He must be texting or emailing or something. Even though I’ve arrived at the restaurant early, he beat me here and is already seated at a table.

I’ve been a nervous wreck all day in anticipation of this dinner. This is the first time since failing out of school last year that my dad and I are going to sit down to talk. And I failed out last December. It’s now November.

That’s eleven months of stereo silence.

Apparently, when I failed out, I not only destroyed my own aspirations and dreams, but my father’s as well.

He always wanted me to play Division I hockey at a prestigious East Coast college.

I had been poised to make both of our dreams come true until the pressure, stress, and rigorousness of my course load, coupled with the intense level of play, had been too much for me to handle.

And I’d cracked.

More like shattered.

The only times I’ve spoken with my father was when Cole and I had sneaked into my parent’s house to grab my old hockey gear.

Dad had, unfortunately, come home and found us in the basement.

For obvious reasons, that conversation between us hadn’t ended well.

That memory still has the power to make me wince when I think about the ugly words he’d hurled at me.

And then, unbeknownst to me, Cole had reached out to my dad when I’d made the Western Women’s intramural hockey team and invited him to my first scrimmage. That’s when it seemed like we might actually be able to bridge the gap separating us.

It’s the reason I’m here to meet with my father for dinner.

“Miss?”

The hostess smiles as I shake off the cobwebs from my past. I remind myself to smile.

Even though I’m nervous as hell, I’m thankful my dad reached out, wanting to sit down and hash out our issues.

I’ve missed my family over the past year and want them back in my life.

While nothing will ever be the same between any of us, maybe it can be different.

Better.

My dad ruled my life while growing up. He set schedules for hockey practice, extra workouts, and studying. Even thinking about how he’d structured my childhood has my chest constricting with thick tendrils of anxiety. Refocusing my attention, I breathe in slowly before forcing it out again.

“Sorry,” I murmur. “Lead the way.”

As we get closer to the table, Dad glances up from his phone.

A tentative smile lifts the corners of his lips as he rises to his feet.

For just a sliver of a second, we stare at each other.

Awkwardness descends and I wonder if coming here was a mistake.

That’s all it takes for my expectations to nosedive.

The last thing I want to sit through is an hour or so of stilted conversation.

What sucks most is that my dad and I used to be so close.

Before I can decide how to handle the situation, he swallows up the distance between us and wraps his arms around me. I can’t help but burrow against his wide chest as his arms tighten. We cling to each other in the middle of the restaurant for at least a minute, maybe two.

And it feels good.

So good that moisture gathers in my eyes. When we finally break apart, the uncomfortable tension crackling in the air around us dissolves as if it had been a figment of my imagination.

Once we’re seated, his gaze sweeps over me. “You look good, Cassidy,” he says before adding approvingly, “healthy.”

My lips lift at the compliment. “Thank you, I feel good. I’ve been running three times a week and I’m practicing with the team a couple times a week. Sometimes Cole and I skate in the mornings before school.”

That being said, there’s no way I’ll ever be as sleek and muscular as I was in high school. I’d adhered to a strict diet and workout regimen to maintain a peak physical condition. I have no desire to ever live such a regimented or restrictive lifestyle again.

After I’d failed out of school last year, I stopped working out and hadn’t wanted to go anywhere near an ice rink. But all that changed when I met Cole. He introduced me to his cousin, Sammy, the captain of the Western Wolves women’s team and I was able to join even though the season had started.

It’s Cole I have to thank for pushing me to skate with the team and giving me back something I truly love.

He’s the one I have him to thank for reaching out to my father and inviting him to watch my first scrimmage.

Without him doing that, my dad and I wouldn’t be sitting here, working on our relationship.

It doesn’t escape me just how wonderful Cole is.

Or how lucky I am to have him in my life.

My dad nods. “I’m glad you’re skating again.”

The waitress brings us both glasses of water and I take a drink before answering. Just because I’m happy to be here, and bridging the yawning expanse that separates us, doesn’t mean it’s easy. Hockey now feels like a minefield between us.

It was what we’d bonded over during my childhood.

It had always been our thing. My two younger sisters danced and didn’t want anything to do with skating.

My dad had always been into hockey. I’m sure he’d secretly hoped for a boy but got stuck with three girls instead.

Me getting kicked off the team last year had devastated him.

It was an abrupt end to all the goals and dreams we’d spent years working toward.

I clear my throat and stare at the menu. Only then do I realize how tightly I’m gripping the plastic. One by one, I pry my fingers loose. It takes effort to consciously relax my muscles.

“Me too, but I’d needed a break.”

That comment has the conversation stalling as we study our menus in silence.

The waitress returns and we both order burgers.

In a small way, being out to eat with my dad feels normal.

When we traveled for games and tournaments, it was always just the two of us.

We’d go out to eat, sleep in hotels, take in some of the local sights and sometimes, if we were lucky, catch a classic car show.

I loved spending a few hours between tournament games checking out muscle cars and old roadsters.

Not only did my dad give me a love for hockey but an appreciation for classic cars.

It makes perfect sense that we ended up being so close. We spent a lot of time together. It’s just as understandable that it hurt like hell when he turned his back on me. It takes a moment to realize that I’m not ready to forgive him for that. Like everything else in life, it’s going to take time.

My gaze lifts and our gazes collide. Dad’s eyes are a deep ocean blue like mine. We also share a headful of inky black hair. Although his has a good amount of silver shooting through it. There are more lines bracketing his eyes and deeper grooves marring his forehead.

It makes me wonder if the last year was as hard on him as it was on me.

Before I realize it, the emotion-filled words are slipping from my mouth. “I’m sorry, Dad. Sorry for screwing everything up.”

I spent my entire life trying to please this man.

Even now, I realize that I just want him to be proud of me.

I wonder if I’ll ever get to a point in my life when his approval doesn’t matter.

I might be angry with him for how he reacted when I failed out, but deep down, I want him to be proud of me.

Sometimes it feels like a losing battle.

His guarded expression crumbles as he sucks in a quick breath before saying in a rush, “I know you are. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for how I handled the situation.

” With a shrug, he glances away. “Maybe I pushed you too hard. Or pushed you into playing a sport you didn’t want to.

I just don’t know anymore…” A hint of a smile lifts his lips.

“I used to think I had all the answers, now I realize that I don’t have any of them.

Raising children is a humbling experience. ”

A thick sheen of tears fills my eyes as I shake my head.

“No, Dad. I wanted to play hockey. I loved playing.” I’d loved being out on the ice.

I’d felt at home in a freezing cold rink.

I still do. So many of my childhood memories are centered around the ice.

Hard fought wins. Crushing defeats. Time spent with my dad.

I wouldn’t trade any of those memories. They mean too much to me.

My experience growing up wasn’t a perfect one, but it’s mine. And it’s what shaped me into who I am today.

And maybe that person isn’t so bad, after all.

Dad’s gaze lock on mine from across the small table that separates us. “Sometimes I wonder if I wanted your success more than you wanted it for yourself.”

This time, I’m the one inhaling a deep breath, trying to steady all the raging emotions that are roiling through me. I hadn’t expected to delve headfirst into this conversation before our food was even served.

Part of me wondered if we were going to sweep everything neatly under the rug and pretend that last year didn’t happen.

I’m kind of shocked that my father is talking about all this so openly and easily.

Well, maybe not easily, because I can see that the past is as painful and tender for him as it is for me.

But you know what?

We’re doing it and we’re getting through it.

It’s what makes me realize that if I want our relationship to heal, I need to be honest with him.

I can’t just tell him what he wants to hear.

That won’t help the situation. If this past year of therapy has taught me anything, it’s that you need to be open and honest about what you’re feeling and not just gloss over it because it’s the easiest thing to do.

Or makes the people around you more comfortable.

“In the beginning, I played hockey because you loved it so much and I enjoyed when we spent time together…just the two of us.”

Anguish flickers across his face as he runs a hand through his hair. “You played all these years because of me?”

I shake my head. “No, I played because I fell in love with the game but I also liked that it was something we had in common. I liked when we were off on our own.” Years of tournament weekends roll through my head.

The muscle car shows we were able to drop in on.

Spending time out on the ice with him. Having him coach my teams when I was younger.

My dad was always tough but fair, and he pushed me to be my best. To give one hundred percent.

Again, it hits me that I wouldn’t be the person I am today without this man pushing me to excel.

He expected excellence and I gave it to him until I left for college.

Then, unable to hold it together, I cracked under the pressure and fell apart.

In the end, all my dad had wanted was the best for me.

And I had wanted the best for myself as well.

I guess neither of us realized that funneling every ounce of energy into hockey wasn’t the way to achieve it.

“Maybe I pushed too hard with all the dry land practices and private skating lessons.” His eyes search mine for answers.

The question has my shoulders slumping because there’s no other way to answer but truthfully. I take another deep breath as I attempt to word my response just right. I want him to understand how I feel, but don’t need to bash him over the head with it.

“My life revolved around hockey to the exclusion of everything else.” When his facial expression doesn’t change, I continue.

“I didn’t realize what I was giving up until it was too late.

I wish there’d been more of a balance. Friends, other activities, parties.

A social life. Sometimes it feels like I missed out on all the normal kid stuff because I’d been too wrapped up in hockey. ”

When I finally run out of steam, I realize that the air has become clogged in my throat as I wait for his reaction. Instead of getting angry, he surprises me by agreeing with everything I’ve said.

“I suppose I’d wanted you to succeed where I had failed.

You were so good at such a young age. It was obvious to everyone that you were talented with unlimited potential.

” He jerks his shoulders. “I’d wanted you to have it all.

Every advantage. It never occurred to me that you were missing out on growing up.

I’m sorry for that. And for pushing you so hard.

” There’s a beat of silence before he adds, “For what it’s worth, I enjoyed spending time with you too. ”

As I open my mouth to respond, our waitress arrives with our food.

After she disappears, all I can do is stare at the burger and fries on my plate as his words churn in my head.

Never in my wildest dreams did I expect for us to have such a candid conversation about the past. But here we are, doing exactly that. And it feels good.

My mind tumbles back through the years, looking at all the mistakes I made and what I could have done differently. The thing is, if that had happened, I wouldn’t be where I am right now.

At Western.

With Cole.

Any other decision would have altered the course of my life.

There’s nothing I can say to argue those words in my head.

In a twisted way, my failure brought me to Cole. No matter how difficult everything was to get through, I can’t bring myself to regret it. If I hadn’t failed out of Dartmouth, I never would have decided to attend Western.

When I’m halfway through my burger, I say, “What’s done is done.

No matter how much I wish I could go back and make different decisions, I can’t.

I have to live with what happened and move on the best I can.

And that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do.

” Dr. Thompson’s words echo throughout my head, and I can’t help but repeat them.

“What I’ve tried to do is learn from my mistakes.

I’m happy to be playing on an intramural team.

” Quietly, I admit, “It’s nice not having the pressure of a Division I program hanging over my head. Hockey has become fun again.”

He nods. “I want you to know that you don’t have to play if you don’t want to.” He shifts on his seat before adding, “I love you for you , not because you play hockey like I did.”

The first genuine smile of the evening flits across my face. “I’m playing for me right now and I’m enjoying it. I like the girls on my team, and I don’t want to quit.”

His expression matches mine. “Good.” There’s a pause before he asks, “You wouldn’t mind if I catch a few more games this season, would you?”

I beam. I’ve always enjoyed having my dad in the stands cheering me on. “I would really love that.”