Page 21 of Don’t Leave (Stay #2)
CASSIDY
“ A re you going to tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been all mopey since you came back from the library,” she asks as we sit in the bleachers, waiting for the game to get under way.
Unable to stand the way she continues to eyeball me, I mutter, “No.” I keep my gaze trained on the Zamboni as it slowly sweeps water over the ice to smooth out all the rough patches as my mind tumbles back to the ride home with Cole.
None of this would be happening if I’d found my own table to work at. I wouldn’t be sitting here in the stands with a pit the size of Texas at the bottom of my belly, feeling as if Cole and I are on the precipice of something terrible.
Brooklyn refuses to take the hint. “No, there’s nothing wrong. Or no, you’re going to keep it all to yourself and not tell me what’s going on.”
“I’ll go with what’s behind door number two, please.”
Before she can respond, the Zamboni disappears into a garage type door at the far end of the rink and both teams jump onto the ice for warm-ups. My gaze fastens onto Cole as he stretches, making wide circles. There must be something in my eyes that clues Brooklyn in on what’s going on.
“I should have known this had something to do with Cole.”
My shoulders collapse in defeat. “I don’t want to talk about it. There’s too much going on and I just need some time to figure out what I’m going to do.”
She throws her hands up like I’m the one who’s breaking some kind of friendship code by not spilling my guts. Does that really make me a lousy friend?
I have no idea.
Maybe it does.
“Far be it for me to try and help,” she grumbles.
For the first time, my gaze flickers toward her as I reach out and grab hold of her hand. “I’m sorry.” I huff out a breath. “You and I are quite the pair, aren’t we?”
Her attention is drawn to Austin as he circles the ice with the team. A small frown tugs at the corners of her lips as she watches him. “I suppose we are.”
We fall into silence for a long stretch of minutes before she nudges my shoulder and whispers, “Why is that couple over there scoping you out? It’s kind of weird.”
I glance down a few rows only for my gaze to collide with Dr. Thompson’s. I shouldn’t be surprised to find her and Thomas here.
For some reason, it never occurred to me that I could run into them again.
I shift on the hard bench and try to keep my tone nonchalant. “That’s Cole’s parents.”
The longer I stare, the more my throat feels as if it’s closing, and my heart beats an uncomfortable tattoo against my chest.
“Who’s the girl with them? Is that his sister?” With a frown, she pauses. “Does he have a sister?”
I rip my gaze away from Dr. Thompson only to have it land on Jackie’s. Thankfully, she’s oblivious to my presence. Instead, there’s a smile on her face as she talks with Thomas as if they’ve known each other forever.
Now that I think about it, they probably have.
For some reason, the fact that Jackie is sitting with his parents has a giant lump settling in the middle of my throat. Not only did she and Cole date for two years, but they were best friends for more than a decade.
As I stare at the three of them, it occurs to me that I’ll never have that kind of history with Cole.
I’ll never feel like I’m part of his family the way Jackie apparently does.
There are too many obstacles standing in our way.
That realization slams into me like a ton of bricks, knocking the air from my lungs until it feels like I can’t breathe.
“That’s Cole’s ex-girlfriend.” My voice sounds thin and reedy, as if it’s traveling from a great distance.
Brooklyn’s widened gaze darts to me before resettling on Jackie again.
“If she’s the ex, then why is she sitting with them?”
It takes effort to force the words from my lips. “She and Cole grew up together. She’s more like a family friend.” It’s yet another reminder that I don’t belong.
Did Cole invite her to the game?
That thought is enough to have my stomach twisting into tiny knots.
He wouldn’t do something like that, would he?
“Hmmm.” Brooklyn doesn’t say anything more than that.
And really, what else is there to say?
Knocking into her arm, I pull her distracted attention back to the ice by pointing to the players who are now moving through passing and shooting drills. With a glance at the clock, it’s a relief to see that the game will start in less than five minutes. I just want to get this over with.
What sucks is that before the library incident, I’d been looking forward to watching Cole play tonight. Now, I have no idea where Cole and I even stand. After he dropped me off, I couldn’t help but feel as if there’d been so much left unsaid between us and not enough time to sort it out.
My gaze drifts back to Cole’s mother and stepfather. A thick jolt slices through me when I realize that Jackie is scrutinizing me in much the same way I’d been staring at her a handful of minutes ago.
Brooklyn nudges my shoulder to reclaim my attention. “Someone sure knows who you are.”
A soft puff of air escapes from me as I continue to hold Jackie’s gaze. “She introduced herself at the party on Halloween and pulled me aside for a conversation.”
Her head swivels toward mine so fast that I’m surprised she doesn’t get whiplash. The shocked expression on her face would be comical if there was anything remotely funny about this situation.
“Seriously?”
I jerk my shoulders into a tight shrug, not really wanting to delve into that story right now. Especially with Jackie watching. “Cole never told me what happened between them, and she was kind enough to fill in all the blanks.”
“Oh, I just bet she did,” Brooklyn grumbles with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.
My voice drops as everything she said circles viciously through my brain again. “Yup.”
“Did she also admit to wanting him back?”
Breaking eye contact with Jackie, my head snaps towards Brooklyn in surprise. “How do you know that?”
She rolls her eyes before snorting. “Why else would she be here? Plus, every time she stares at the ice, she gets this sad look on her face.”
For some reason, that only makes me feel worse about the situation. Plus, Jackie has Cole’s parents on her side, rooting her on.
My bestie slings her arm around my shoulders before tugging me close just as the game is set to start. “You should have told me. Jeez, Cassidy. I always feel like you’re keeping me in the dark about what’s happening in your life.”
She’s not wrong.
Maybe I am a bad friend after all.
I force a small laugh. “I feel the same way, Ms. friends-with-benefits.”
A chuckle escapes from her as she shrugs. “What can I say? I was embarrassed.”
As the puck is dropped at center ice, I send up a little prayer of thanks that Brooklyn and I have reconnected this year and become even better friends. I don’t know what I’d do without her humor and support.
“Liking someone and having feelings for them shouldn’t embarrass you,” I tell her.
Instead of responding to that comment, she remains silent as we watch the Wolves steal the puck from the other team before racing to their opponent’s net. That’s one of the things I love about watching and playing hockey—it’s fast paced action from start to finish. There’s never a dull moment.
Even though it turns out to be a great game, it’s hard to find any enjoyment or pleasure in watching it. My mind is too wrapped up in all the problems that have cropped up in our relationship.
“I really thought the hard part would be telling Cole about my past. Unfortunately, what we’re now dealing with doesn’t feel any easier,” I admit.
Attention focused on the game, Brooklyn says, “It’s just an ex-girlfriend, Cass. You need to remember that Cole loves you . Not her. There’s nothing to deal with.”
I really wish that was the only thing standing in our way.
It feels as if there’s a yawning chasm that separates us, and I have no idea how to bridge the growing distance. For the rest of the game, Brooklyn and I munch on popcorn while watching the guys dominate on the ice. Even though Cole is having a good game, I can tell something isn’t right.
He just seems…off.
He’s playing with a lot more aggression than normal.
Over the past few months, I’ve learned that Cole is a smart player who understands the fundamentals of the game.
He hits when it’s necessary and advantageous for the team.
And his hits are always clean and legal.
He’s not one to draw a penalty for being cheap.
Just as I think that, Cole slams into one of the other team’s forward. The sheer force of his hit sends them both crashing into the boards. The crowd winces at the reverberation that ripples throughout the chilly arena. I freeze and watch as the other player drops to the ice.
It’s not a surprise when Cole receives a penalty for roughing.
To make matters worse, he argues with the ref as he skates over to the penalty box before throwing himself inside. After he slumps onto the bench, one of his coaches rips him a new one.
Stunned, I watch with wide eyes as the older man’s arms cut through the air.
Brooklyn leans toward me before whispering, “What’s up with him?”
While my friend might not totally grasp the finer points of the game, she knows enough to realize that this isn’t a normal behavior for Cole.
I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment, not wanting to believe that the way Cole is playing tonight has anything to do with what happened between us earlier.
Deep down, I know it does.
The rest of the game doesn’t fare any better for him or the team.
Even though the Wolves started out with a three-goal lead, their opponents took advantage of Cole’s two-minute penalty by scoring two goals in quick succession while he sat in the box.
The third was made on his second trip to the penalty box during the middle of the third period.