Page 19 of Stay (Stay #1)

CASSIDY

C ole eases his Mustang over to the side of the familiar tree-lined street before cutting the engine. For a moment we both stare at the red brick, two-story house situated on a pretty corner lot.

My breath hitches as I contemplate my childhood home.

I’m having some serious second thoughts about what I’m intent on doing. And, truth be told, I feel guilty for dragging Cole into it with me. He’s aware that there’s tension with my parents, but has no idea how bad the situation is.

“Ready?” The softly spoken question slices through the thick silence of the car.

I straighten my shoulders before turning to meet his gaze.

At this time of the day, both my parents should be at work, leaving the house empty. I’ve spent the previous week going round and round with myself about this. What I keep coming back to is that it’s my hockey gear and I want it. I’m tired of wearing crappy rental skates.

What I don’t know is if my equipment is still here or if Dad got rid of it. Ten months ago, that’s exactly what he threatened to do. If that’s the case, then I’m shit out of luck because I can’t afford new equipment .

It takes effort to shake off the nerves that are dancing their way across my skin. “Yeah, let’s get this over with.”

I pop open the door and stalk up the driveway to the front door. My mom used to hide a key under the terracotta planter for emergencies. I’m really hoping that hasn’t changed.

If it has, then this mission will come to an end as quickly as it started, and I’ll be stuck with rental skates for the foreseeable future.

I breathe a sigh of relief when my fingers close around a slender piece of metal. “It’s here.”

My fingers tremble as I pull it out from under the large pot before sliding it into the lock. As I push open the front door, the air from within the house hits me like an unexpected blow.

When I’d been forced to leave college last December, my father had been so disgusted that he could barely stand to look at me.

They’d arranged for me to live with my grandparents for nine months before I moved to Western in late August. I haven’t seen or spoken to Dad in all that time.

My mom and two younger sisters had visited occasionally, but it wasn’t very often.

Those visits had usually ended up being stilted and uncomfortable.

I stumble to a halt in the entryway of the house I’d grown up in, and yet had not been able to return to after the debacle that was my first freshman semester.

It’s just another devastating consequence from the fallout.

Unconsciously, I rub my chest as it tightens with thick tendrils of emotion that feel like jungle vines trying to squeeze the life from me.

I nearly jump out of my skin as Cole lays a hand on my shoulder before giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Are you okay?” His gaze carefully searches mine.

He’s beginning to recognize the signs of my anxiety, the ones that lead to an attack. It should embarrass me. Instead, it makes me fall a little harder for him.

I suck in an unsteady breath.

Am I okay?

I almost laugh.

No, I’m not. I want to get out of here and never return. My heart is galloping, racing as if it’ll pound right out of my chest. The ache is building. Intensifying as it spreads, infecting more of my body.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and silently recite the words in my head.

Deep breath in. Slowly exhale out.

Deep breath in. Slowly exhale out.

Cole stays silent. His hand remains anchored on my shoulder as if tethering me to the earth. After a few minutes, the tightness in my chest loosens, receding like the tide.

I need to find my gear and hightail it back to school where I can breathe again.

As a child, I never imagined the day would come when this house wouldn’t be my refuge. Now, this is just another place where I don’t belong. A wave of sadness crashes over me, threatening to drag me to the bottom of the ocean.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I try to keep the strain from seeping into my voice. “Let’s check the basement.”

What I don’t add is that if my gear isn’t there, then my dad got rid of it the same way he got rid of me.

As we move silently through the first floor toward the staircase that leads to the basement, Cole finds my fingers before enveloping them in his larger ones.

When I glance over my shoulder, he gives me a reassuring smile.

I force myself to give him one in return.

Without him by my side, I would have never been brave enough to make the trip.

I don’t think I could have faced the silent ghosts of my family.

Even though I’m taking gear that’s mine, it feels like I’m doing something wrong. Like stealing stuff that doesn’t belong to me. As much as I try to shake off the unsettling feeling, I can’t.

Once we make our way to the basement, I move to the furnace room where the storage area is located. Our family has always jokingly referred to this room as a mini hockey store. My sisters dance and cheer, so other than shoes and costumes, they don’t have equipment to store.

This room has always been for me and my dad.

He grew up playing hockey, and played juniors straight out of high school.

Two years after that, he was forced to quit when he broke his leg in three different places.

He loved hockey way too much to give it up and continued playing in beer leagues.

When I started skating, he coached me until I made a girls’ travel team.

I think that’s why my failure hit him so hard. He was totally invested in my hockey career. But still…even though he was disappointed, he should have been there for me.

I needed him.

I needed my entire family.

Even though I fucked up, I needed all of them to help pick me up again.

Unfortunately, that’s not what happened.

I inhale a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut again.

I’m irritated at myself for allowing all this garbage back inside my head.

Maybe I disappointed my family, but they let me down me too.

When I needed them to stand by me, they’d taken the easy way out and shipped me off, leaving me to deal with the fallout by myself.

My eyelids fly open when Cole wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me against his hard body. He doesn’t ask any questions. He simply holds me until I’m strong enough to move forward again. I don’t understand what it is about Cole that makes me feel so safe.

“If they kept my gear, it would be here.”

As we step into the back room, Cole looks around the shelving units my father built to house all of our old equipment. It’s crammed full of clear bins that contain skates, socks, gloves, pants, shoulder pads, and jerseys. Fiberglass sticks take up a whole shelf as do the oversized bags.

“Holy crap, it’s like a hockey store in here.” There’s a touch of awe tinging his voice as his gaze flies around the room.

One side of my mouth lifts. “Yup.” I glance at him. “My dad owns a hockey and lacrosse store in town.”

“Wow,” he mutters before rifling through the sticks. He pulls out one before running his fingers across the shaft. “Do you know how expensive this is? ”

His question is more rhetorical in nature because we both know how costly that brand of stick is.

“Do you see any of your old stuff?” he asks, helping me to search through the bins.

I take another deep breath before rifling through another plastic container, looking for the equipment I’d taken to school last year.

“Not yet,” I mutter, realizing that maybe Dad really had pitched everything.

I wouldn’t put it past him. He’d been pissed.

“If that turns out to be the case, I think you could probably piecemeal some of this stuff together and then we could look online for the rest. That would be the cheapest way to go.” He gives me a wink. “Worst comes to worst, we can raid the lost and found at the rink.”

I scrunch my face in disgust before realizing I might not have a choice in the matter.

“Yeah,” I finally admit. “I guess.”

The problem is that I want my stuff. Everything fit me perfectly.

Sure, I could probably find a pair of old gloves and definitely a stick in here, but skates?

No way.

I’d outgrown all of my old ones. Hockey skates could run at least three hundred dollars a pair. And those are the cheap ones. Plus, I don’t really want to take anything that doesn’t belong to me. That would only piss my dad off.

Just as I’m about to give up, Cole shoves aside a few old hockey bags and there it is, my pink and black bag. It’s a little dusty but no worse for the wear. My heart skips a beat as he unzips it.

It’s all there, looking exactly like the last time I saw it.

Cole meets my gaze with a smile. He zips it back up again before hauling it over his shoulder. “Do you have a stick?”

I rifle through a dozen sticks until I find my favorite and then grab one of my backups. I can’t help but run my hand lovingly over the shaft. Both the grip and the blade are still wrapped in bright pink tape.

Cole shakes his head. “You are such a girl. ”

“Just remember that I’m a girl who can kick your ass out on the ice.”

That probably isn’t true, but the comment lightens the mood, which is exactly what I need.

He smirks. “That remains to be seen but we’re definitely on for a rematch.”

Just as we shut off the basement lights, the front door opens before getting slammed shut. The entire house shakes with the vibration of it as my stomach plummets to my toes. My feet grind to a halt as my gaze flies to Cole. By the sound of the heavy footfalls above us, it’s my dad.

Shit.

Fresh waves of icy cold panic crash over me. My chest constricts, making it difficult to suck air into my lungs.

“I can’t face him.” I shake my head before whispering in a choked voice, “I can’t face him right now.”

Cole shifts his weight. Confusion is written all over his face as if he doesn’t understand what the big deal is. “Is that your dad?”

“Yeah.” My mouth has turned bone-dry. Any moment, my heart is going to explode from my chest.