Page 22 of Don’t Leave (Stay #2)
As soon as the opposing team ties the game, the Wolves’ frustration level becomes almost palpable.
It’s like a living breathing entity filling the arena.
The players aren’t the only ones pissed off by the three-goal lead that has disappeared.
Fans are on their feet, shouting and booing.
All I can do is sit frozen in place and hold Brooklyn’s hand, squeezing the very life out of it as a nausea churns in my belly.
Cole has received two penalties for roughing during this game. I’ve never even seen him draw one penalty. This kind of behavior is so unlike the guy I’ve gotten to know over the previous few months. I’ve never seen him be anything less than calm and collected.
Worse than that, he and Luke are getting into it on the ice.
It’s impossible to hear what’s being said, but it’s obvious from the tension radiating off them that their exchanges have become contentious. They’re supposed to be a united front on the ice and they’re anything but. The bad energy is affecting the entire team.
With less than a minute and a half to go, the other team charges down the ice.
Cole blocks them, slamming into a forward before knocking the puck loose.
A scuffle ensues and Luke joins the fray.
For a few tense seconds, it’s impossible to see what’s going on or who has the puck.
My gaze flicks anxiously to the game clock.
There are sixty seconds left.
That’s plenty of time for the Wolves to score and win the game. In hockey, a team can score with just a few seconds on the clock from the other end of the ice.
The puck is knocked loose from the pile of players as Austin swoops in and nabs it.
He digs his blades into the ice and kicks it into high gear.
The crowd surges to their feet in anticipation.
They scream and cheer as Austin races toward the net.
Just as Austin closes in, he rips off a lightning quick shot.
Everyone within the arena holds their breath, waiting for the puck to hit the back of the net.
Just when it seems like there’s no way he won’t score the winning goal, the other team’s goalie slides, effectively blocking the shot. The game ends in a tie. Even though it’s not a loss, the Wolves aren’t happy.
And neither is their head coach.
Nerves churn uncomfortably in my belly as we watch both teams file off the ice. Everyone looks pissed off. Even the fans.
“Well,” Brooklyn says, drawing my attention to her, “that was one hell of a game.”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
But it wasn’t good.
We rise to our feet, both ready to vacate the cold arena. There’s a good possibility that my butt is numb. It feels good to get up and stretch my muscles. Although, I’m undecided as to what to do.
Should I stick around and talk to him?
Or wait until tomorrow when we’ve both had time to get a little perspective?
Brooklyn seems to understand my internal struggle. “Are we waiting around or taking off?”
When I’d come here tonight, I’d assumed Cole and I would be able to clear the air after the game. That no longer feels like a good idea.
Especially after that game.
It’s obvious that Cole is in a bad mood, and I know it has everything to do with what transpired at the library.
Plus, his parents and ex-girlfriend will probably hang around to talk with him. For all I know, they could have plans to grab something to eat. And then there’s Luke. I don’t want any further issues arising between them because of me.
But still, leaving without at least saying hello seems wrong. I nibble at my lower lip with indecision.
For better or worse, I decide to stick around. Brooklyn and I are one of the last stragglers to make our way to where the locker rooms are located. We keep to ourselves on the perimeter of the group. The last thing I want is to get sucked into an awkward conversation with Cole’s parents or his ex.
“Cassidy?”
Damn.
My heart flips over as I inwardly flinch. It takes effort to plaster a tight smile across my face as I swing around to face her with as much dignity as I can muster. Considering that I’ve spent the last ten minutes using my friend as a human shield, that’s not saying much.
“Hi, Dr. Thompson.” Then I nod towards Thomas, Cole’s stepfather. “And Dr. Thompson.”
Eyes twinkling, he smiles in response. Even though I’m racked with nerves, his easy demeanor manages to ease the thick tension crackling in the air that surrounds us. “Or you could just call us, Dr. Thompson squared.”
My lips lift.
He’s such a nice man, and yet, all I can focus on is whether he knows that his wife was my therapist and knows all my deep dark secrets.
“That was a pretty rough game,” Thomas comments. “Cole usually plays with a lot more control and finesse. I’m not sure what was going on with him tonight.”
I clear my throat. “The whole team seemed to be having issues.”
Thomas makes a noncommittal noise in his throat but doesn’t say anything more. Since Brooklyn only knows that hockey is played by hot guys, wearing massive shoulder pads and hopefully extra-large jocks, she can’t contribute anything to the conversation, which has become painful.
I’m about to make up an excuse as to why Brooklyn and I have to flee to the bathroom when Cole’s mother asks, “Cassidy, could we talk for a moment?”
Everything inside me freezes. I’d rather gouge my eyes out than have a private conversation with Cole’s mother.
“What’s up, docs?”
I swing around, never so thrilled to see Austin in my life. I want to jump into his arms and kiss him senseless.
Thomas claps him on the shoulder and tells him that it was a tough game. The rest of us vehemently agree as Brooklyn studiously avoids Austin’s gaze. It doesn’t look like anything has changed since I last saw them.
At this point, I’m desperately trying to manufacture an excuse so to why we need to make a hasty getaway.
“Where’s Cole?”
My heart plummets as my gaze lands on Jackie, who has joined the group.
“Coach wanted to ream his,” Austin’s gaze catches Dr. Thompson’s, “um, talk privately with him. I wouldn’t be expecting him anytime soon.”
There’s no way in hell I’m going to stick around with his parents and ex. Maybe it’s better to let everything settle between us and talk in the morning.
Even though I know Brooklyn will probably end up killing me, I don’t see any other choice in the matter. We Ubered it here for the game and I don’t want to wait around for another ride. “Austin, would you mind dropping us off at the dorms?”
His gaze slides to Brooklyn as her narrowed one darts to mine.
“Sure, no problem. You ready to take off?”
Relief floods through me.
More than ready.
I nod before turning to Cole’s parents. “It was really nice to see you again.”
Nothing could be further from the truth.
It takes everything I have to hold the forced smile in place.
The edges of Dr. Thompson’s lips also slide upward. Strangely enough, hers looks like the warm ones she’d give me in her office. It only makes me wonder if the genuineness and empathy I felt from her was nothing more than a shtick she trots out for her clients.
Cole’s stepfather beams at me before closing the distance between us and enveloping me in a warm hug.
I can only stand stiffly in his arms until it ends.
It’s only when the three of us walk through the sliding doors of the ice arena that I can breathe again.
The ride back to the dorms is made in silence.
As I stare out the window, I wonder how I’ll fix this mess with Cole.
When we finally pull up to Washington Hall, I thank Austin before exiting the vehicle. Brooklyn’s gaze flickers to me as I wait for her on the sidewalk. Instead of joining me, she remains seated.
“I’m, ah,” her voice falters as she breaks eye contact, “going back to Austin’s tonight, so don’t wait up.”
I’m not totally surprised by the sudden turn of events.
Especially since Brooklyn has finally admitted her true feelings for Austin.
If I’m not mistaken, her feelings run much deeper than she’s admitted.
I think Austin is the first guy to ever sneak past her ninja-like defenses and she doesn’t know how to handle that.
With a nod, I hurry toward the dorm as Brooklyn and Austin take off.
I kind of wish Brooklyn had decided to come home with me tonight.
I could really use a friend right now. Twenty minutes later, my face is freshly scrubbed, and I’ve pulled on a pair of well-worn yoga pants and a tank top when my phone chimes with an incoming text.
We need to talk. Can I come up?