Page 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

T wo days. I was gone for two fucking days, and that’s all it took for me to feel like I was going through withdrawals.

I missed Cassie.

And now that I was about to see her again, I had to check myself back into normalcy. How the hell would she respond to it if I ran up to her like some golden retriever begging for attention?

I forced myself to slow my stride, walking up to our door with an ease I sure as hell didn’t feel. I was jittery and restless, and Jesus Christ, were my palms sweaty?

I blew out a breath, turning the knob, readying myself for that first sight of her. I wondered if she was at the kitchen counter, already eating breakfast before work. Or maybe she was sitting on the floor, pulling her shoes on. I smirked at the thought. I had no idea why, but she always plopped to the ground whenever she was putting her shoes on. It was cute as hell.

I opened the door, preparing for the floodgate of emotion to be released from my chest, and came up blank. I blinked, taking in the empty space as if it were an arrow to the chest.

She wasn’t here.

For half a second, I panicked.

Was she gone? Had she left? Moved out while I was away?

But no, there were signs of her everywhere. Coffee cup on the counter. School bag by the door. Shoes in the middle of the living room.

But it was late in the morning for her to still be sleeping. Especially when I knew she would have to be leaving to get to work soon.

I dropped my stuff and headed toward the staircase, concern spreading in my chest. She was always downstairs by now. Always.

I was halfway up the staircase when I heard her. Groans of frustration filled the air and then a few thuds. I picked up my pace.

“Cassie?” I called, rounding the corner to her room and coming to a halt in her open doorway.

She was sitting crisscross on the floor, surrounded by a heap of colorful clothes, grumbling so loudly she didn’t hear me approach.

“Stupid. Nothing. Maybe I could—” Another groan. “No, that won’t work.”

“Cassie?” I repeated again, huffing out a laugh.

Her head whirled, eyes widening as she noticed me. She scrambled to her feet like a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time.

Again, fucking adorable.

“!” she said, barreling toward me. “You’re back!”

Before I knew what was happening, she threw herself at me, and before my mind could process what was happening, my arms were suddenly wrapped around her.

What the hell is wrong with me? I thought, feeling breathless at the contact. It’s a fucking hug.

Her arms tightened around my neck, standing on her tiptoes to reach, and I almost groaned out loud at the contact.

Then, at once, she froze. Gasping as she ripped herself away, along with my heart in the process.

“Oh, gosh,” she said, mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. “I’m so, so, so sorry.”

My own mouth could barely form words while my arms already ached with the loss of her in them.

Get a fucking grip.

“For what?” I managed to get out without sounding as breathless as I felt.

“For attacking you like that! I just got so excited to see you because I missed you and—” She cringed. “Sorry.”

I stared at her agape. “Why are you sorry?”

“That’s weird, isn’t it?” She toyed with her fingers. “I mean, it was only two days and—”

“Cassie,” I tried to stop her.

“Two days is nothing in the grand scheme of things. It’s just 48 hours! I mean, like, 16 of those hours are spent sleeping!”

“Cassie—”

“Did you know some guy flew a plane around the world in 46 hours? He literally traveled the world in less time than you were away for hockey,” she rambled, words coming out fast as her eyes darted around to look anywhere but at me.

“Which sort of makes 48 hours seem like more time than it is, so I’m not making the right point, but that’s still crazy, isn’t it?”

“Cassie,” I tried again, to no avail.

“And I mean, I did end up going to bed super early because I was sort of bored and lonely, so let’s say 48 hours total, minus like eighteen hours of sleeping. That’s only 28 hours!”

“Cassie!” My hands reached out, grasping her shoulders until those big, oblivious blue eyes finally met mine.

“Yeah?” she said softly.

“I missed you too.”

I saw that light spark in her eyes, and it felt like the world was spinning a bit faster beneath us.

“You did?” she asked, as if somehow in disbelief.

As if it wasn’t written all over my face.

“Yeah,” I answered, voice thick. “I did.”

Her cheeks turned a shade of pink as she cleared her throat, taking a step backward. I hated the distance between us, but I knew it was probably for the best.

I knew if she stayed close to me, I would only last so long before grabbing her in my arms again, and who knew if I’d have the strength to let her go so easily the next time I had her there?

“So.” I looked around the space that used to be a generic guest room but was now anything but. “Are you going to tell me why I walked into what looked like your closet trying to eat you?”

“Oh.” She deflated, moving backward until she was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at the mess. “It’s Spirit Week at school.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re the most spirited person in the fucking state.” I snorted.

She still frowned. “I love Spirit Week. But I don’t have anything to wear because it’s stupid sports jersey day, and I own exactly zero articles of athletic gear. Unless you count my shirt that has Snoopy playing tennis on it.”

Again, that groan of frustration filled the room, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud at how utterly defeated she looked.

“Why are you laughing?” She pouted.

“Because there’s the easiest solution in the world to this problem that you’re somehow overlooking.”

She shot me a look, waiting for me to go on.

“You do remember that you live with a hockey player, right?” I raised my brows at her.

“Uhhh,” she responded, biting her lip.

“Hockey players tend to have a jersey or two in their closet.” I filled in the blanks, biting back my own smile.

“No way can I wear your jersey!” she responded, looking appalled.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re important! And I work in a Kindergarten class with kids who blow their noses on me and run around with markers in their hands!”

“Have you heard of this thing called a washing machine?” I laughed at the incredulous look on her face.

“.” She groaned, like it was some great moral dilemma instead of wearing a piece of fabric.

“Cassie,” I said pleadingly, “It’s not a big deal. I promise.”

But that was a lie. It was a big deal. And I wanted her in my jersey more than I wanted my next fucking breath.

I watched as she chewed her lip, wishing I could pull it free and throw the damn jersey over her head. But then, her shoulders relaxed, and a sigh of acceptance escaped from her lips, and I knew I’d won.

Because it wasn’t just my jersey she was going to be wearing. But my name, too.