Page 67 of Off The Ice

She had a free place to live, and I could rest assured that she wasn’t getting abducted by some guy off Craigslist.

I’d handled it shitty, I couldn’t deny that. And I’d been half expecting Cassie to freeze me out afterward or, at the very least, show some type of sign that she was pissed.

But she hadn’t.

The next morning, it was like it had never happened. I came out of my room, made our coffee, and waited for her to come down for breakfast.

I’d been prepared to apologize in a way that made my palms sweaty and my body tense. I wasn’t in the habit of apologizing. Even when I knew I should. But I couldn’t stand the idea of Cassie being mad at me. Or the thought that she might be pissed enough to leave because I’d way overstepped my place in her life by telling her she couldn’t move into any of those places.

But when she came downstairs, to my utter shock, shesmiledat me, said good morning like usual, and started pouring herself a bowl of cereal.

“Ah,” she squealed, seeing the coffee I’d poured into her mug. “Thank you so much! I told you that you didn’t have to do this every day.”

For a minute, I was too stunned to say anything; I just watched her as she went about her routine before sitting at the counter to eat. I went over toward her with an added tension to my step, as if at any moment she might remember she was mad at me.

“You’re being weird,” she said, furrowing her brows, mid-bite of cereal.

“Am I?” I shook off the feeling, deciding if she wasn’t going to mention it, I sure as hell didn’t want to be the one to bring up the awkwardness again. Not when I couldn’t fully explain my reasoning behind it in the first place.

She was twenty-four years old. She had a right to live wherever she wanted.

For some reason, I sure as hell didn’t want to remind her of that either.

“Yeah, you are,” she said, her eyes following me. “You’re pacing. Are you worried about something? Hockey?”

I laughed softly, amazed at how quickly what I thought had been a fight between us had been brushed off. “No, I’m not worried about hockey.”

“Well, maybe you’re hungry,” she said, gesturing toward the seat beside her. “Come sit down and have breakfast.”

“Is this how you talk to your Kindergartners?” I asked with a smirk but did as she said anyway.

“Only when they’re acting hangry.” She scrunched her nose in a playful tease at me, gulping down the coffee. “Oh my gosh! I forgot to tell you yesterday—”

And then she launched into a series of stories about her workday, the way I’d gotten used to her doing almost every day. She would tell me things the kids said, the way they said them, and the intricate backstories of the kids’ lives in order for me to understand the significance of the story.

I felt like I’d gotten to know the personalities of all of these five-year-olds I’d never met just by the way Cassie brought them to life with her stories.

I smiled as she continued. “And then, my coworker said, ‘I almost got a speeding ticket getting here today!’ and Connor said, ‘My dad got a speeding ticket on his way to the beer store!’” Cassie spoke through a fit of giggles as if she were reciting the words of a great comedian rather than her five-year-old student.

“You really love them, huh?” I asked, staring at her in awe.

“So much,” she gushed. “I love that I get to be a part of shaping their first experience with the world outside their homes. I get to see them grow and change and form their first friendships. Gosh, I can’t even talk about it—” she said, wiping a tear from her eye as she smiled.

“They’re lucky to have you,” I told her honestly. “Not many people are suited to work with kids.”

“I can’t understand why!” she said, “They’re the most wholesome population in our society. And I get the incredible privilege of teaching them how to be good people in the world. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have the job I have.”

“I don’t know if all teachers feel the same,” I said, thinking back to some of the more hardened teachers I’d had growing up.

“Well, yeah. It can be a lot. The pay sucks. I mean, sometimes I have to choose between putting gas in my car and buying stuff for the classroom. It’s rough. There have been more than a few times I’ve driven to school on fumes, praying that I’ll make it till payday.” She chuckled as if the situation were humorous.

I felt my jaw clench, the idea of her struggling to that degree unsettling something inside me.

As long as she was here, I wouldn’t let her go without. She wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that.

I would’ve told her as much, but her words kept spilling out of her, the excitement evident in the way her body nearly vibrated with it.

“Gosh, I can’t wait to have my own kids.” She sighed wistfully.

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