Page 33 of Cassie
Down boy, he told himself, pulling away with scarcely a taste. Hoss watched as her eyes fluttered open, pupils dilated wide in the dim light. That was his first clue the game was about to resume, and he realized they’d been so tangled up in each other they’d missed the players taking the ice for the second period, not seeing them as they tromped up the hallway right beside her seats.
A sharp rap sounded behind him, the violence of the blow against the glass surprising and loud. Twisting in his see he was face-to-face with Sammy, standing on the bench in his skates. A deep scowl furrowed his son’s brow, then Sammy’s expression lightened as he angled his head to look around Hoss towards Cassie.Shit. He hadn’t talked to Sam about seeing someone, had scarcely skimmed the surface with Faith, and seeing his old man in a liplock with a strange woman had to be unsettling for him.
Sammy’s helmet sat crookedly on his head, chinstrap not yet secured and when he gave Hoss a sharp nod, it nearly flew off. Mitt-covered hand holding it in place, Sammy mouthed the two words Hoss knew he held like treasured currency. Two words guaranteed to gain Hoss’ attention. “No lies.”
Hoss blinked.
Sammy lifted his glove to the glass and Hoss leaned back as Cassie claimed the space in front of her seat, placing her knuckles against the glass on her side. She mimed her hand blowing up and Sammy grinned crookedly. “Good game,” she whispered, and Sammy nodded as if he could hear her over the roar from the arena speakers. A coach spoke to Sammy, then a player, and they lost his attention as he turned to take his place on the bench, ready for the game to begin.
Throughout the period, Hoss caught glimpses of Sammy glancing his direction, sometimes with a studious expression, sometimes fiercely focused, but always with a half smile quirking the corner of his boy’s mouth. After the buzzer, the rest of the team was filing up the hallway when Sammy stepped to the bench again, staring straight at Hoss. “Come see me.” Not a question from his son, this was a demand from a young man who wanted answers for what he’d seen. Sam held his gaze until Hoss nodded, then he angled his gaze towards Cassie. “Good game?” Sam arched an eyebrow and Cassie laughed.
“Yes, good game. One more period. You got this.” She put her knuckles to the glass again, and this time it was Sammy who mimed blowing something up as he brushed the glass with his glove. “Go,” she said, turning to Hoss. “See your son. I’ve had a good time. Hoss.” She leaned forwards and lifted a hand, hesitating a moment before she traced the edge of his jaw. “There’s a seat here for you anytime you want.”
“I’ll be back for the rest of the game.” She pulled in a breath, and when she would have protested, he silenced her with a finger against her lips. “I’ll be back.” Standing, he stretched and cast a glance around the arena, studying the milling crowd making their way to and from seats and sections. “Want anything, honey?”
“No, I’m good. There’s popcorn left, see?” Rattling the bucket, Cassie dipped her fingers in and withdrew a fluffy white kernel, tossing it into her mouth. “Mmmm.”
Her playfulness pulled at him, and Hoss cleared his throat gruffly as desire coiled at the base of his spine. “Okay, I’ll be back.”
In the hallway outside the team locker room, Hoss leaned his shoulders against the wall, thumbs shoved into the belt loops of his jeans. He hadn’t been waiting more than a minute when the door opened slightly, and Sammy peered out. Pushing the door wide, he gestured towards Hoss, demanding brusquely, “Come in here so I don’t get mobbed.”
As Hoss walked through the doorway, he heard a girl call, “Sammy!”
“See?” Sammy sighed and stood, ankles firm against the uncertain surface underneath his blades. “Who’s the babe, Dad?”
“Right to the point, huh?” Hoss studied Sam’s face, trying to decide if there was real anger in his expression.
“Might as well cut to the chase.” Sammy glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’ve got about twelve minutes before I have to get my pads back on. Is this the woman Faynez has been talking about?”
“She’s been talking to you?” Hoss shook his head. “Faynez hasn’t met Cassie yet. Not officially.”
“This is the woman from the show, right?The show?” His emphasis left no question for Hoss that Faith had definitely been talking to her brother about their father’s obsession. “She’s prettier than I remember.”
“You were focused on your baby sister, son. No reason to remember her at all, other than how her path intersected with y’alls that day.” Shouting came from the locker room proper, and he glanced in that direction. “You need to get back?”
“I’ve got a few more minutes before Coach misses me.” Sam shifted restlessly. “Faynez said you’re painting her.”
“That’s not a question.”
Sam shook his head. “Nope, that’s a statement. She said you’re working a lot, and it’s good for you. Are you good, Dad?”
His son’s question went deeper than the surface of tonight, or even the past several weeks. This question harkened back to those first moments of grief, sitting side by side in the hospital’s chapel, when a much younger Sammy needed reassurance that no matter how long it took him to be ready, to be okay, Hoss would wait. “That depends. Are you good?” Sam’s eyes never wavered as he stared at Hoss. “Do you think Faynez is good? Because you two are my life, and you know it. If you aren’t good, then it doesn’t matter what I’m starting with Cassie. You come first, son.”
“God, don’t do that.” Sam’s chin jerked sideways, and Hoss watched as muscles clenched in his jaw, quivering under the strain. “Don’t do that, Dad. You don’t get to sideline your entire fucking life because you think it might hurt me or Faith.” His gaze angled across to where Hoss stood, fury seething in his eyes. “You get to have a life, you know? You get to be happy, to laugh, to want to be with someone. Faynez doesn’t remember her, but I do.” Hoss’ throat tightened and he waited for the next blow. At this rate he would leave this hallway bruised and bloody from invisible wounds. “Mom wouldn’t want you to live like you have. She loved you.”
“She did.”
“Shut up. This is my turn, and lemme tell you, what I said goes. No lies.” Hoss hushed, gaze fixed on Sam’s face, his cheeks red as his eyes glistened wetly in the overhead lights. “She loved you.” He paused. “And you love her. You’ve devoted your whole life to making sure Faith and I know that love is present and real, no matter she’s been gone for a long time. You make it so we see your love every day. Liking this woman,” Sammy’s arm flung sideways, his elbow smacking against the wall, “doesn’t reduce your love for Mom. Doesn’t cheapen it. You love me, right?” Hoss nodded, not sure he could speak. “And you love Faynez?” Hoss nodded again. “How can you love me if you love her? Isn’t that what you’re implying to me with what you said? Right? It’s what you’re asking yourself about this—” Sammy paused and swallowed before beginning again. “—Cassie. If you love Mom, how can you contemplate something with someone else?” Sammy leaned forwards. “If you learned one lesson from Mom dying like she did, it should be to grab life with both hands, Daddy.” The use of Sammy’s childhood name for him made Hoss’ chest hitch. Words another man had flung at him long ago stirred in his memories. “Grab life and live it. You like her, I could see that.” Sammy sniffed and then shrugged as he barked a broken laugh. “Half the team saw how much you like her. So, if you like her—” He glared at Hoss. “—then give it a chance, Dad. Believe in love again, take a chance. Show Faynez that love doesn’t have to be painful, that love can be good and sweet and so unbelievably beautiful. Show her what you and Mom showed me. That family means love, but a lover means a whole other level.”
Hoss pushed off the wall and took a step towards Sammy, who shoved against the surface behind him and met Hoss halfway, chests colliding with a smack. “You know how much I love you? How proud of you I am?”
“I do. I really do, Daddy. Because you show me every time you look at me.” Another shout, this of Sam’s name pulled them apart, and Hoss found himself wishing for another few minutes. His son’s hand rested heavy on his shoulder. “I gotta go.” Hoss stared at him, watching as Sammy settled his game face into place, expression freezing into a stern visage. “You’ll be back behind the bench?”
“Yeah, I told Cassie I’d be back.”
“I can take Faynez home after the game and stay with her, if you want.” Sam offered as he stepped away. “I don’t get to harass her nearly enough these days. Plus, you’ve got that sweet bathtub for me to soak in. Gonna be a bruiser this last period. Don’t flinch, Dad.”
“I won’t.” He lied, because he still flinched at all of Sam’s fights. “See you tomorrow, then?”
