Page 49 of Stay
I just need more time before I confide in him. Before I expect him to swallow and accept how much of a trainwreck I was.
She pulls off her glasses before carefully setting them on the table next to her chair. “If you’re going to have a real and genuine connection with someone, then you need to be honest with them. Is there a reason you haven’t been?”
Every last drop of happiness I’d been brimming with ten short minutes ago drains from my body, leaving me to feel weighted down and restless.
I squeeze my eyes tightly shut before shaking my head and shrugging helplessly. “I don’t know. I guess I’m afraid his opinion of me will change.”
She nods. “Opening yourself up and being vulnerable with someone who matters can be scary. But it’s important that you’re honest with him and yourself. You can’t have an authentic relationship if you’re keeping parts of yourself hidden. He needs to accept all of you, not just the pieces you choose to show him.”
My fingers flutter to the collar of my shirt, tugging on it as my chest tightens up. “He understands that I’m not ready to open up just yet. We’ve talked about it. I just want to give him more time to get to know the person I am now.”
A heavy silence falls over us.
“Then maybe you aren’t ready for this just yet. Perhaps your focus needs to remain on you right now.” Her gaze searches mine. “I understand that’s difficult to hear but I think you need to give it serious consideration.”
Even though I was expecting her to voice these concerns, it still hits me like a punch to the gut, and my shoulders collapse. Deep down, in a place I haven’t wanted to acknowledge, I’ve secretly been wondering the same thing. Now that Dr. Thompson has brought up my own fears, it means I need to consider the merit of them.
Maybe I’m not as ready as I thought I was.
14
CASSIDY
Cole eases his Mustang over to the side of the familiar tree-lined street before cutting the engine. For a moment we both stare at the red brick, two-story house situated on a pretty corner lot.
My breath hitches as I contemplate my childhood home.
I’m having some serious second thoughts about what I’m intent on doing. And, truth be told, I feel guilty for dragging Cole into it with me. He’s aware that there’s tension with my parents, but has no idea how bad the situation is.
“Ready?” The softly spoken question slices through the thick silence of the car.
I straighten my shoulders before turning to meet his gaze.
At this time of the day, both my parents should be at work, leaving the house empty. I’ve spent the previous week going round and round with myself about this. What I keep coming back to is that it’s my hockey gear and I want it. I’m tired of wearing crappy rental skates.
What I don’t know is if my equipment is still here or if Dad got rid of it. Ten months ago, that’s exactly what he threatened to do. If that’s the case, then I’m shit out of luck because I can’t afford new equipment.
It takes effort to shake off the nerves that are dancing their way across my skin. “Yeah, let’s get this over with.”
I pop open the door and stalk up the driveway to the front door. My mom used to hide a key under the terracotta planter for emergencies. I’m really hoping that hasn’t changed.
If it has, then this mission will come to an end as quickly as it started, and I’ll be stuck with rental skates for the foreseeable future.
I breathe a sigh of relief when my fingers close around a slender piece of metal. “It’s here.”
My fingers tremble as I pull it out from under the large pot before sliding it into the lock. As I push open the front door, the air from within the house hits me like an unexpected blow.
When I’d been forced to leave college last December, my father had been so disgusted that he could barely stand to look at me. They’d arranged for me to live with my grandparents for nine months before I moved to Western in late August. I haven’t seen or spoken to Dad in all that time. My mom and two younger sisters had visited occasionally, but it wasn’t very often. Those visits had usually ended up being stilted and uncomfortable.
I stumble to a halt in the entryway of the house I’d grown up in, and yet had not been able to return to after the debacle that was my first freshman semester. It’s just another devastating consequence from the fallout. Unconsciously, I rub my chest as it tightens with thick tendrils of emotion that feel like jungle vines trying to squeeze the life from me.
I nearly jump out of my skin as Cole lays a hand on my shoulder before giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Are you okay?” His gaze carefully searches mine.
He’s beginning to recognize the signs of my anxiety, the ones that lead to an attack. It should embarrass me. Instead, it makes me fall a little harder for him.
I suck in an unsteady breath.
