Page 94 of Off The Ice

“Tell me what’s wrong,” I pleaded, feeling the strongest urge to fix it for him.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, lips parted as if in disbelief. “I’m fine.”

“I know you’re not.” I frowned at him. “Is it because of me?”

“What?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Cassie, no.” He shook his head. “Not at all—”

I wondered if he’d gotten into a fight with his girlfriend. Or maybe he was upset that I was still here. It had been nearly a month since I promised I’d only be here for a few days.

I couldn’t break a promise I’d made. Not when I knew how it felt to be on the other end of that. I was taking up too much time and space in this man’s life, and I needed to rectify it immediately.

“I need to go,” I said, standing up, already in motion, planning my escape.

“Cassie.” His chair slid back against the floor with a loud screech. “Wait, wait, wait. Where are you going?”

I didn’t want to look at him. I couldn’t. I needed to get a handle on my emotions, and it was impossible to do that around him.

“I need to leave. I’ve been here for too long.”

“Cassie, stop.” He reached out, tugging my wrist until I had no choice but to look up at him. His eyes were wide and panicked, and the look on his face made me feel breathless.

“What?” I asked, voice breaking.

I felt like I was helplessly trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation. I knew the only way to do that would be by leaving on my own terms.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said, his voice low and soft. “What’s wrong? Why are you sad?” His hands were cupping the sides of my face, keeping my eyes on him.

I closed my eyes against the sight of him, hating the tear that slipped down my face.

His finger brushed it away.

“I just need to go,” I said resolutely. “Please, just let me go.”

“No,” he said firmly. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Finally, I opened my eyes, staring at him through the tears that clouded my vision.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?” The words slipped out despite how hard I tried to hold the question back.

He froze, hands dropping.

“What?” he said, taking a step back.

“Some people at work were talking about how they saw a picture of you online with some girl,” I said, willing him to deny it.

He said nothing, his face remaining impassive. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it shut without a word coming out.

It was as good as confirmation.

“Did you see the picture?” he asked at last.

My heart sank.

“No!” I responded. “I wouldn’t betray your privacy like that.”

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