Page 24 of Stay (Stay #1)

CASSIDY

M eet me downstairs ASAP with your hockey bag.

I stare at the phone in my hand before typing out a response.

Are you serious?

Just do it.

Bossy much?

The eye roll emoji pops up on the screen.

Fine. I’ll be down in 5.

I grab my hockey bag from the closet and throw on a navy jacket before heading out the door. Once out on the sidewalk, I find Cole’s Mustang idling at the curb in front of the dorm. When he sees me, he pops open the trunk before hopping out of the vehicle as I jog over.

He gives me a quick kiss on the lips. Before I can register the gesture, he pulls away, looking strangely hesitant.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah. Why are we heading to the ice rink at nine in the morning?”

His expression becomes shuttered, as he holds open the door for me. “You’ll see.”

With our gazes locked, he hunkers down, grabbing the seatbelt before pulling it across my chest and clicking it into place.

My brows slide together as I study him. Even though he kissed me in greeting, he seems oddly distant.

It’s a ten-minute drive to the arena and Cole is quiet the entire way.

My guess is that there’s something on his mind, but, for whatever reason, he’s keeping it to himself.

One of the things I’ve grown to like about Cole is that he doesn’t play games.

Even though I’ve been less forthright with him, he’s still straightforward with me.

I always know where I stand and what to expect from him.

That, however, is not the case now.

It makes me feel strangely anxious.

When I can’t stand another second of the silence that fills the cabin of the car, I force myself to ask, “Is something wrong?”

For some reason, that’s how it feels.

If nothing were wrong, Cole would already have my hand firmly ensconced within his own. Instead, my fingers are twisting nervously in my lap.

And as much as I want to be the one to reach out first…

“Everything’s fine.” Even though he gives me a reassuring smile, he seems distracted.

Distant.

I can’t get that word out of my head. I never realized how attentive Cole was until he wasn’t.

“Are you sure?” I inhale a deep breath and try to find my nerve. It takes effort to reach out and lay my fingers over his larger hand. He glances at me, our gazes colliding, before shifting back to the ribbon of road in front of him.

“I’m sure.” Even though he wraps his fingers around mine, giving them a brief squeeze, it still feels as if something sits uncomfortably between us.

It’s a relief when we finally pull into the parking lot. Without a word spoken between us, we exit the vehicle. Cole pops open the trunk and grabs my bag, hoisting it over his shoulder .

Instead of focusing on the weird tension, I glance around the crowded lobby. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning?”

When we skate, it’s usually five in the morning, before the arena is open to the public. I love when it’s just the two of us on the ice.

“You’ll see.” He nods toward one of the rinks. “Come on.”

Before I can ask any more questions, he strides toward rink number one. After a silent moment, I trail after him. As much as I don’t like what’s happening between us, I’m unsure how to smooth it over and make it better.

Cole holds open the door and I’m hit by a burst of frigid air.

He points to a door on the other side of the rink. “Use locker room number three and meet me back here.”

I glance around and notice a team in the middle of a ninety-minute practice. There’s still sixty minutes left running on the clock.

“Don’t you think I’m a little old to play with these guys?” Actually, they’re more like boys. Normally, on a Saturday morning, both sheets of ice are being used for hockey practice or games. I have no idea why he wants me to suit up.

The first full-fledged smile I’ve seen from him since he picked me up twenty minutes earlier curves his lips. My heart skips a painful beat in response.

“Just go change,” he orders softly.

I give him one last searching look before reaching for my bag. Our fingers brush during the exchange and a sizzle of awareness shoots through me. My gaze rises to his only to find his attention already locked on me.

“I’ll be right back,” I whisper, feeling knocked off balance.

His expression turns serious. “I’ll be waiting.”

Unsure what else to say, I nod before scurrying to the locker room. Ten minutes later, I lace up my skates and am ready to go. It’s a bittersweet feeling to be outfitted in my own hockey gear. It’s been almost a year of not skating five to six days a week.

No drills.

No practices .

No dry-land work outs.

No games.

Nothing.

Before last year, my life had revolved around hockey to the exclusion of everything else.

And then it was gone.

I was left with vast stretches of time and nothing to fill it.

No friends. I’d sacrificed all those to get to the next level of hockey.

No boyfriend. There had never been time for that.

No other hobbies, activities, or interests.

There’d never been time to develop anything else.

I may not have been an Olympian or professional athlete, but I trained like one.

I shake myself out of those thoughts and spot Cole standing where I’d left him.

For just a moment, I allow my gaze to rove over him as he watches a team of twelve-and thirteen-year-olds skate up and down the ice while practicing a passing drill.

The coach blows his whistle about every twenty seconds as a new set of kids take off down the sheet of ice.

A smile curves his lips as he watches them.

With his attention focused elsewhere, I’m able to study him openly.

From the navy beanie pulled low over his shaggy brown hair to his golden whiskey-colored eyes.

There’s a light stubble that covers both his chin and cheeks.

His lips are full, and his face is handsomely chiseled.

There isn’t an ounce of boy there. Even though he’s only a sophomore in college, he’s all man.

Something unexpected flutters in my belly as I silently acknowledge how gorgeous he is.

His shoulders are impossibly broad. I love running my hands over them and down his muscular arms. They’re all sinewy muscle.

And he’s tall.

Solid.

My snap judgment about him when we’d met at that party couldn’t have been more off base. Even though he’s devastatingly handsome, he’s the last guy I would call a D-bag. He’s probably one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.

And I’m ruining this. I can feel him pulling away .

The need to lighten the mood surges through me as I close the distance between us.

I point toward the ice. “Seems like a long time ago, doesn’t it?”

He glances over at me, and one side of his mouth slides up. “Sometimes it feels like yesterday, and other days like a lifetime ago.”

Understanding the sentiment, I nod in agreement. “Yeah, it does.”

His gaze slides over me with more interest as he grins and shakes his head. “You look hot, Cassidy.”

I roll my eyes as heat floods my cheeks. For one, I look massive with the shoulder pads and cushiony pants. Plus, my skates give me three inches of extra height. I probably look like a goon.

“Shut up.”

He chuckles before reaching for my hand. “Come on.”

I let him capture my fingers as we head toward the doors that lead to the lobby again.

“Where are we going now?” That’s when I realize he hasn’t changed out of his street clothes. “Wait a minute, you’re not skating?”

When I slow my pace, he tugs my hand and pulls me through the double doors. “No more questions, you’re late.”

Instead of releasing my fingers, he tows me across the crowded lobby, weaving between parents with their morning cups of coffee. We continue walking to the second sheet of ice before pushing through another set of doors. I stop short as my gaze lands on players racing up and down the ice.

These players are older.

And they’re girls.

Well, women.

Probably my age.

My wide gaze slices to his. “What is this?” Stupid question because it’s obvious this is a girls’ college-level hockey team. “Why did you bring me here?”

I don’t know why I’m beginning to panic, but I am. My chest feels achy and my head light. The only thing that stops me from racing out of the rink is Cole, who still has my fingers tightly held in his grip.

His easy smile collapses as he searches my expression .

Before he’s able to say anything, a girl flies across the ice and skids to a stop, spraying ice in a perfect arc. Her breathing is labored as she unlatches the door and steps outside.

With a quick tug of her gloves, she pulls them off before unbuckling the helmet and yanking it off her head. Her long blonde hair is secured at the back of her neck in a low ponytail. There’s something familiar about her, but I’m not sure I actually know her.

With her gaze focused on me, she holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Sammy. Cole’s told me a lot about you.”

The smile I give her is forced. “Hi,” I say nervously, “Cassidy.”

Even though it’s tempting to tell her that Cole has told me nothing about her, I remain silent. I feel awkward and out of place as I gesture to the players skating through drills.

“What team is this?”

Her gaze flicks toward Cole before returning to mine. “He didn’t tell you?”

I shake my head. “No.”

Nope. Cole definitely didn’t tell me anything.

I can’t decide if I’m pissed off that he put me in such an uncomfortable position or not.

“This is Western’s women’s intramural hockey team.” She shrugs. “Nothing fancy but it’s a lot of fun. We’ve got a good bunch of girls, and practice three times a week. Cole thought you might want to check it out since you used to play.”

I don’t know what to say. My heart pounds painfully as I watch a couple of girls fly across the ice. It takes a moment to realize that Cole and Sammy are waiting for a response. I clear my throat, not wanting either to notice how affected I am by the offer.

“Um, yeah. I’d like that. Isn’t the team set for the year?”

“Nah. Intramurals are pretty loose, and we can always use another body out on the ice.”

She tilts her head, looking me up and down. “Forward or defense?”

“Forward, center,” I reply with just a hint of pride in my voice .

“Excellent.” She flashes me a grin before turning to Cole and kissing his cheek. “Thanks.”

As he meets her gaze, a genuine smile lifts his lips.

That’s all it takes for a little pang of sadness to pierce my heart.

I blink, surprised by their familiarity.

And then Sammy is opening the heavy metal door and jumping back onto the ice before skating toward the team. All of the girls gather around her.

Cole’s expression turns somber as he nods toward them. “You better get out there.”

I glance at the ice. A few of the girls stare back with curiosity. “I haven’t skated with a team in a long time.” My voice dips as I reveal my worst fear. “What if I make a fool out of myself?”

His face softens. “We just skated last week, and you were great. Hardly rusty at all. Even with taking some time off, you’re probably better than half the girls out there.”

I nip my lower lip before glancing at the ice with a mixture of longing and fear. “I don’t want to embarrass myself.” The thought of these girls judging me—and ultimately finding me lacking—is almost debilitating.

Just like the Dartmouth team.

Once upon a time, hockey had been my passion. It was the one thing I’d excelled at. I don’t know if that’s the case any longer.

“Hey.” His sharp voice pulls my attention back to him as he reaches out and takes a hold of my hand. “I promise, you’ll be great. I wouldn’t have asked Sammy to let you skate with them if I didn’t think you were ready for this.” He squeezes my fingers. “You know that, right?”

I force a smile. “Yeah.”

He jerks his head toward the ice for a second time. “Then get out there.”

Nerves prickle along my skin as I secure my helmet and shove my hands into my gloves before meeting his gaze. “Okay.”

Even though it feels like I’m walking to my death, I inhale deeply before stepping onto the ice and skating toward the team.

Fifty minutes later, sweat is pouring down my face as I race with the black rubber puck toward the goal.

Two defensive players are nipping at my heels.

Their labored breaths fill my ears as one of them tries to backcheck me by knocking the puck from behind.

Adrenaline pounds through my system. When I’m ten feet away from the net, I wind up before pulling my stick forward and hitting the puck toward the goal.

The black disc lifts from the ice toward the five-hole between the goalie’s legs. It flies past her as she dives for it.

I pump my fist into the air and circle the net. I can’t believe how good this feels. Cole had been right. This wasn’t the best group of girls I’d ever played with, but it was fun.

So much fun.

Sammy breathes hard as she stops next to me. “Damn, you’re fast.” She elbows me when I grin back in response.

She’s not the only one breathing hard.

“You’re going to play with us, right?”

“I’d love to,” I say with a laugh, unable to believe how much I want that.

As I skate back to center ice, I realize that I haven’t looked for Cole since I skated onto the ice almost an hour ago. Did he stick around and watch me practice with the team?

I’m not nearly as good as I once was, but I kind of want him to see me in action. My gaze coasts over the bleachers, only to realize that he isn’t there. I shouldn’t feel hurt that he didn’t bother to stick around and share this moment with me.

But I do.

For some reason, it matters more than I want it to.