Page 51 of Stay
“Not yet,” I mutter, realizing that maybe Dad really had pitched everything.
I wouldn’t put it past him. He’d been pissed.
“If that turns out to be the case, I think you could probably piecemeal some of this stuff together and then we could look online for the rest. That would be the cheapest way to go.” He gives me a wink. “Worst comes to worst, we can raid the lost and found at the rink.”
I scrunch my face in disgust before realizing I might not have a choice in the matter.
“Yeah,” I finally admit. “I guess.”
The problem is that I want my stuff. Everything fit me perfectly.
Sure, I could probably find a pair of old gloves and definitely a stick in here, but skates?
No way.
I’d outgrown all of my old ones. Hockey skates could run at least three hundred dollars a pair. And those are the cheap ones. Plus, I don’t really want to take anything that doesn’t belong to me. That would only piss my dad off.
Just as I’m about to give up, Cole shoves aside a few old hockey bags and there it is, my pink and black bag. It’s a little dusty but no worse for the wear. My heart skips a beat as he unzips it.
It’s all there, looking exactly like the last time I saw it.
Cole meets my gaze with a smile. He zips it back up again before hauling it over his shoulder. “Do you have a stick?”
I rifle through a dozen sticks until I find my favorite and then grab one of my backups. I can’t help but run my hand lovingly over the shaft. Both the grip and the blade are still wrapped in bright pink tape.
Cole shakes his head. “You are such a girl.”
“Just remember that I’m a girl who can kick your ass out on the ice.”
That probably isn’t true, but the comment lightens the mood, which is exactly what I need.
He smirks. “That remains to be seen but we’re definitely on for a rematch.”
Just as we shut off the basement lights, the front door opens before getting slammed shut. The entire house shakes with the vibration of it as my stomach plummets to my toes. My feet grind to a halt as my gaze flies to Cole. By the sound of the heavy footfalls above us, it’s my dad.
Shit.
Fresh waves of icy cold panic crash over me. My chest constricts, making it difficult to suck air into my lungs.
“I can’t face him.” I shake my head before whispering in a choked voice, “I can’t face him right now.”
Cole shifts his weight. Confusion is written all over his face as if he doesn’t understand what the big deal is. “Is that your dad?”
“Yeah.” My mouth has turned bone-dry. Any moment, my heart is going to explode from my chest.
He studies me carefully before understanding dawns. “Is he going to be mad that we’re here?”
By the expression on his face, he already knows the answer.
My silence only reconfirms it.
I probably should have mentioned that my family and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms. Then he could have made his own choice about whether to get involved in this. I’d really thought we could sneak in and out under the radar while my dad and mom were at work.
Cole has no idea what kind of minefield he’s walked into. As I stand there, listening to Dad stomp across the wood flooring above us, I realize there isn’t time to explain it to him. It’s doubtful I could find the words even if there was.
“Cassidy,” he says carefully, “everything will be fine. Let’s go upstairs.”
I want to laugh.
