Page 40 of Don't Leave
As my mind cartwheels, I realize that Cole isn’t aware I’ve been meeting regularly with a counselor at school. He knows I was in therapy before I came to Western, but I never mentioned that I was still seeing someone. Although, that’s over with. There is no way I can go back and see Dr. Thompson now that she knows I’ve been seeing her son.
I blink back to awareness when Cole reaches out and grabs hold of my fingers before pressing a kiss against my knuckles. “Are you okay? Do you still want me to drop you off at the dorms?”
I get the feeling that he hopes I’ve changed my mind.
I haven’t.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I need some time to myself, to think about what I’m going to do, but I stop myself before the words can spill from my mouth.
Instead, I whisper, “I just need to lie down for a while.” There’s a pause before I add, “I’m really sorry about dinner. I didn’t mean to ruin it.”
He glances over and gives me a small smile. I can’t help but notice that it’s strained around the edges as if he suspects I’m not being truthful with him.
“Don’t worry about it. They’ll be plenty more.”
Yeah…I don’t see that happening any time soon.
How would I even begin to explain that his mother and I are already well acquainted? That I’ve known her since mid-August.
No, I’m definitely not ready to spill that secret.
Instead of responding, I turn away and stare out the window.
CHAPTER 13
CASSIDY
My feet stutter to a stop as my breath catches at the back of my throat. My heart thumps a painful beat as I watch my dad stare down at his phone. He must be texting or emailing or something. Even though I’ve arrived at the restaurant early, he beat me here and is already seated at a table.
I’ve been a nervous wreck all day in anticipation of this dinner. This is the first time since failing out of school last year that my dad and I are going to sit down to talk. And I failed out last December. It’s now November.
That’s eleven months of stereo silence.
Apparently, when I failed out, I not only destroyed my own aspirations and dreams, but my father’s as well. He always wanted me to play Division I hockey at a prestigious East Coast college. I had been poised to make both of our dreams come true until the pressure, stress, and rigorousness of my course load, coupled with the intense level of play, had been too much for me to handle.
And I’d cracked.
More like shattered.
The only times I’ve spoken with my father was when Cole and I had sneaked into my parent’s house to grab my old hockey gear. Dad had, unfortunately, come home and found us in the basement. For obvious reasons, that conversation between us hadn’t ended well. That memory still has the power to make me wince when I think about the ugly words he’d hurled at me.
And then, unbeknownst to me, Cole had reached out to my dad when I’d made the Western Women’s intramural hockey team and invited him to my first scrimmage. That’s when it seemed like we might actually be able to bridge the gap separating us.
It’s the reason I’m here to meet with my father for dinner.
“Miss?”
The hostess smiles as I shake off the cobwebs from my past. I remind myself to smile. Even though I’m nervous as hell, I’m thankful my dad reached out, wanting to sit down and hash out our issues. I’ve missed my family over the past year and want them back in my life. While nothing will ever be the same between any of us, maybe it can be different.
Better.
My dad ruled my life while growing up. He set schedules for hockey practice, extra workouts, and studying. Even thinking about how he’d structured my childhood has my chest constricting with thick tendrils of anxiety. Refocusing my attention, I breathe in slowly before forcing it out again.
“Sorry,” I murmur. “Lead the way.”
As we get closer to the table, Dad glances up from his phone. A tentative smile lifts the corners of his lips as he rises to his feet. For just a sliver of a second, we stare at each other. Awkwardness descends and I wonder if coming here was a mistake. That’s all it takes for my expectations to nosedive. The last thing I want to sit through is an hour or so of stilted conversation.
What sucks most is that my dad and I used to be so close.
