Page 32 of Don’t Leave (Stay #2)

CASSIDY

T hanksgiving Day passes by in a blur of food and extended family that camps out at our house for the day.

We wake up early, prep the turkey before shoving it into the oven, and then settle back to watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on the big screen.

As I sit on the couch with my sisters, my dad relaxes in his recliner and my mom puttering around in the kitchen, it feels just like it used to before I flunked out of school last December.

And I’m seriously loving every single moment of it.

A little more than a month ago, I was barely in contact with my family and now I’m home, celebrating the holidays with them. Stranger than that, it actually feels normal. Even though I was unsure what to expect, I feel stupid for getting so jacked up in Luke’s truck.

Lexie, who is fourteen, makes a comment about one of the choreographed routines and suddenly both her and Miranda are jumping off the couch and copying the dancers on TV. As my gaze darts between the parade and my sisters, I realize they’re both able to imitate the performers perfectly.

My jaw drops as pride fills me. “Wow! When did you two become so good?”

“We’re both in competition dance troupes,” Lexie says as she follows the steps.

“I didn’t know that.”

It’s surprising how much they’ve grown up over the past year. Both are more mature than when I left for college fifteen months ago. As I watch them, I silently vow never to lose contact with either one of them again. It’s like I blinked, and they grew up.

And I missed it.

Even though I’m thrilled to be home again, I wish I hadn’t missed so much of their lives.

“Dance with us, Cassy!”

“Yeah, come on. It’s easy,” Lexie chimes in.

I snort. “Easy for you maybe, but not me,” I reply from the comfort of the couch. I’m still lounging in my pajamas, which also happens to be another tradition. We don’t get dressed until after the parade is over.

“Cassy, please?” Miranda sends a pleading gaze my way.

“I can’t dance like you guys.” I burrow further into my blanket, thoroughly enjoying the show these two are putting on.

Dad glances up from the newspaper he’s reading on his tablet. “She’s a hockey player, girls, not a dancer. Totally different skill set.”

My sisters laugh before continuing to beg me to join them. Even though I’m nowhere near the dancers they are, I decide to give it my best shot.

And just like I expected, I’m terrible.

Horrible, even.

I can dance my ass off at a frat party with a bunch of drunken college students but next to my sisters who have serious skills, I look like an uncoordinated clod. For the most part, I’m just swinging my arms and legs around.

But you know what?

I’m having the best time.

We all are.

My dad looks up again, barely able to suppress his laughter. Mom stops what she’s doing in the kitchen and comes to stand next to my father. From the corner of my eye, I watch them share a private look and smile.

After about a minute, the dance number thankfully comes to a close. My sisters end in the same pose as the dancers in the parade. Since there’s no way I can pull off the grand finale, I twirl before adding some jazz hands.

Because who doesn’t like jazz hands?

My sisters laugh hysterically, and I can’t help but join them as they pile on top of me in the middle of the family room.

Later that evening, after the grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins have headed home, I’m in bed, scrolling through Insta when there’s a knock on the door.

Mom peeks her head around the corner. “Are you busy?”

I scooch up on my bed. “No, just scrolling through stuff online.”

She settles on the mattress next to me. “Today was nice, wasn’t it?” Before I can answer, she shakes her head and purses her lips. “Your cousin nearly ate an entire pumpkin pie by himself. The poor guy was groaning all the way to the car. I really hope he doesn’t throw up like he did last year.”

We both smile because that kid does the same thing every year. It’s just another tradition, I suppose. Sure, we could stop him, but who really wants to mess with tradition?

Once she sober, she says, “It’s nice to have you back home, Cassidy.”

Her words set off an explosion of all the nostalgic emotions plaguing me today as tears prick my eyes. “It’s good to be back,” I finally whisper.

“We really missed you. All of us.” She nips her bottom lip with her teeth. “Especially your father.”

Today has felt like a gift. I’m so happy that we’ve been able to work through our issues. It occurs to me that without Cole contacting my father and invited him to my first hockey scrimmage, this homecoming-of-sorts wouldn’t have happened.

I owe him so much.

My heart constricts as that thought rolls unwantedly through my head.

“I want you to know that I’m really proud of you,” Mom says, drawing my attention back to her.

My brows draw together as I force out an uncomfortable laugh. “For what? Flunking out of school and getting kicked off the hockey team?” Unable to hold her eyes, I focus on a picture on the other side of the room.

It’s only when her hand settles over mine that my gaze cut back to hers. “No, for picking yourself back up and having the courage to try again.”

I jerk my shoulders into a shrug. “I wish I could have gone to school and done well like everybody else. Instead, I made a big mess out of everything and disappointed both of you.”

“Oh, honey. We shouldn’t have sent you to your grandparent’s house after you came home from school.

I think we were just in a state of shock and didn’t know what to do.

Here we send our daughter off to play Division I hockey at a prestigious college and she ends up flunking out, getting kicked off the team, and… ” her voice trails off awkwardly.

“Yeah,” I mumble. “We don’t need to rehash what happened.”

“Well,” she says with a sigh, “it happened. And there’s no way to go back and undo it.

You have to learn what you can from the experience and continue moving forward.

And that’s exactly what you’ve done.” There’s a pause.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m proud of you for turning it around.

” She quickly amends, “Both your father and I are proud of you for working hard this semester.”

I inhale a deep breath before pushing it out.

What she’s saying really means a lot to me.

My mom and I don’t have a super close relationship. While Dad and I were at the hockey arena, she was with Miranda and Lexie at dance competitions. It feels good that she’s here, telling me how proud she is.

That we’re kind of having—not to sound all sappy—a moment.

“Thanks for saying that.”

She closes the distance between us before tugging me into her arms. At first it feels a little uncomfortable but after a moment, I allow myself to melt into her embrace.

It’s been difficult to find the silver lining in what happened last year, but maybe this new relationship with my mom is one of them.

She pulls away just enough to meet my gaze. “I was wondering if you wanted to go shopping with us tomorrow morning.”

In all the years I lived at home, Mom and my sisters would get up super early and hit all the Thanksgiving Day sales. Normally, I’d be playing in some turkey shootout tournament but that’s not the case this year and suddenly, I’m glad for it.

“I’d like that. Thanks for asking.”

“Great.” Her eyes take on a sly look before she asks, “So, any plans with that foxy boy who gave you and Brooklyn a ride home yesterday?”

My mouth drops open as I repeat with a fair amount of horror, “ Foxy ? Did you seriously just say that?”

Her brows draw together as she says, “Isn’t that the hip lingo all the kids are using these days?”

I shake my head. “Um, no. And quite frankly, I don’t want to hear that word come out of your mouth ever again.” I shudder. “It’s so wrong, it can never be right.”

Her lips twitch. “How about sexy? Is that better? Like we’re just a couple of gals trying to keep it real?”

I slap my hands over my ears before howling, “Oh my god, that’s even worse!”

She perks up before asking, “What about hot ?”

Unable to bear another moment, I point to the door. “You need to leave. Now.”

When a chuckles escapes from her, I can’t help but join in.

“Oh, wait, I know— smoking !” There’s a pause. “ Smoking hot! ” She nods as if she’s totally nailed it this time.

“Are you trying to scar me for life? Because that’s what’s happening here.”

She waves a hand. “All right, all right. Sheesh. I’ll stop. I just wanted to know about the cute boy who drove you home.”

Unsure if I want to discuss Luke with my mother, I flop onto my bed before nibbling at my lower lip.

“He was quite studly.”

I shake my head. “You are seriously killing me. You know that, right?” Giving in, I throw her a tiny crumb of information, hoping she’ll refrain from using any more hip lingo. “He’s just a friend.”

She rolls her eyes. “It certainly seemed like more to me. He looked smitten.”

Smitten?

Nope, I’m not even going to touch that one.

“We’re just friends,” I repeat. For a moment, I debate whether to tack on right now but then decide not to because who knows what will happen between us.

It’s kind of amazing that my mom and I are even having this kind of conversation. We’ve never talked about boys before. Even though it feels like the tips of my ears are burning with embarrassment, it’s kind of nice.

When I remain silent, she waggles her brows. “He’s quite a handsome young man.” She leans a bit closer before adding in a loud whisper, “and he had a nice butt on him.”

I shriek again because I absolutely do not want to hear my mother talking about some guy’s backside.

With a chuckle she says, “I’m old, Cassidy. Not dead. There’s a difference.”

Clearly.

We both dissolve into another bout of laughter.

“Is Luke the boy who invited your father to the hockey game?”

The laughter dies a slow death on my lips, and I shake my head. “No, it was Cole who called dad.”