Chapter 23
Cole
I hit the buzzer to Cassie’s apartment before I can talk myself out of it.
I shouldn’t be here. But Cassie ran out of the gala so fast, like she’d seen a ghost, and I need to check she’s okay.
I don’t know what the hell happened. We were having a good time, right? We danced. I talked to John Novak, came back over to her. And then Cassie ran out the door.
Maybe it was because I brought up the kiss between us. Maybe she could feel how badly I want her. It must have been something, because this feels wrong. It isn’t like Cassie to bail on me. I catch myself—why am I thinking like that, as if I really know her?
But it feels like I do.
I know what it’s like to dance with her. I know what it’s like to kiss her.
Even if it was just a stupid New Year’s kiss that meant nothing.
At least, I’m sure that’s how she saw it.
For me, it was so much more. It was addictive. It was like everything in me was ignited at once.
Back at the gala, I had gone to follow Cassie out the exit. When I got to the door, I saw her through the window. I also saw Anderson sliding his arm around her.
I stepped back like I’d been punched.
I forced myself to stay another thirty minutes before I caved and texted her.
COLE
Where are you? Are you okay?
CASSIE
Sorry, I left without saying bye. I’m home now. Goodnight, Cole.
So, yeah, sue me. I’m not just here to check if Cassie’s okay. I’m also here because I think there’s a good goddamn chance Anderson came home with her, and the thought is making me fucking insane.
I know this is a bad idea, a really bad idea, but I can’t help it. I just need to tell her. Once. That she’s all I can fucking think about lately.
That the idea of another man’s hands on her feels like a puck cracking open my jaw.
“Hello?” Her voice comes over the intercom, crackly and wobbly.
I grit my teeth. Can’t back down now. “It’s me.”
Static echoes from the speaker. “Cole?”
For a second I think she’s not going to let me up, but then the door buzzes and I quickly push through and stride up the stairs.
I knock on her door. It takes a moment for it to open, and—
I blink at her face.
Jealousy flips like a switch into anger… because Cassie is crying. She’s wiping her eyes like she’s trying to hide it, but it’s clear.
“Where is he?” I say, the words coming out in a coarse growl.
Forget the trade deadline. I don’t care what hell comes my way from the league for beating the hell out of a player if I find out Anderson has hurt Cassie.
“What?” Cassie mumbles as I push past her into the apartment, glancing around. “Cole, what are you—”
I turn back to her. “You’ve been crying.” My hand rises to her face, and my thumb swipes her cheek, brushing away the warm tears.
She blinks in surprise but doesn’t move an inch.
“It’s him, isn’t it? Anderson. Tell me he did this to you, and I’ll make sure he never makes it back to the ice.”
Cassie blinks but doesn’t shift away from where my hands cup the soft curve of her face.
“Anderson?” she says. “What are you talking about, Cole? Anderson was never here. I gave him the brush-off at the party and came home alone.”
Oh. She extricates herself from my hands and backs off. My hands fall to my sides.
“Did you… did you think I took him home?”
I swallow. “No. Okay. Fine. Yes, I did think that.”
“I’m a professional, Cole.” She folds her arms across her chest. “I was at the party to work, not to pick up hockey players.”
“Of course.” Shit, now I feel like the biggest asshole of all time. “I know you’re a professional. Hell, I wouldn’t doubt that for a second. But you disappeared so fast, and that’s not like you. I saw the two of you outside together. I thought something must have happened with him.”
“Well, it didn’t,” she says. “And anyway… why would you show up here because of that?”
Because I was jealous.
Because I was acting impulsively.
Because if he’d hurt you, I would’ve fucking destroyed him.
Because I wanted you to know that I want to be the one taking you home, stripping off your dress, making you come.
I want to tell her. Even just a fraction.
The line of my jaw hardens. I can’t do it. Not with her staring at me like this, eyes glossy with tears and demanding why the hell I care who she takes home. Not when she’s obviously torn up about something.
Instead, I shrug out a different answer. A diluted truth that shows none of my cards, none of the ones that matter.
“Just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know I’m not the best at emotions, Cassie. But it looks like you could use someone to talk to.”
She’s quiet for a second, her bright eyes assessing me. Then her expression softens.
“I—I guess so.” She sinks down on the couch, pulling a soft pink cushion against her.
“You want to tell me what happened?” I ask gently, sitting down next to her, leaving a space between us.
“I…” Her voice falters. “Nothing. It’s okay, Cole. I was just upset about… something else.” She swallows. “I saw someone I didn’t want to see at the gala, and it freaked me out.”
An uneasy, dark tremor beats in my chest. Someone from her office? A friend? An ex-boyfriend? That last thought makes my jaw tick.
“Who?”
She blinks up at me. Tears glisten on her soft, dark eyelashes. “I want to tell you, Cole. But I just can’t.”
My throat tightens. In an instant, I feel the stretch of distance between us. I’m next to her on the couch, but the inches between our bodies might as well be miles. She’s my agent’s protégé, the woman sent to keep me in line…
Fine. Screw it, I’ll just leave the distance as it’s supposed to be.
Except I don’t do that.
I take one more look at the tears sparkling around her eyes, and I move my arm around her. Soft but firm.
“This okay?” I mutter, rough-throated, and she’s breathing out, “Yes,” but I already know it’s good with her, because her head has come to rest firm against my shoulder. A sigh shudders from her lips. Like she’s finally relaxing after hours of tension.
Baby, I want to tell her, if that’s what you need, I can relieve all that tension inside you in so many fucking ways.
“You’re okay, Cassie,” I say gruffly. “You’ll be okay.”
Is it true? I don’t really know what’s upsetting her, so I can’t tell.
But suddenly, even through my cynicism, I’m certain she’ll be okay in the end.
How can there be any world in which a woman this bright, passionate, and full of life doesn’t turn out okay?
I’m no stranger to the fact that the world is plenty fucking rough, but that’s not a world I want to live in.
This is the first time I’ve touched her. Really touched her. Held her. There was the kiss and the night at the frozen pond. But now I’m sitting here holding her against my body. I can feel her warmth, catch her sweet, addictive scent on her skin.
“It was a shitty party anyway,” I say.
Cassie laughs, a smile returning to her face. “It wasn’t so bad.”
“Well, I heard the guy you danced with was really bad at it.”
She laughs louder now. It feels so good to make her smile.
I glance down at her face. There’s still wetness on her cheeks from the tears. I fight the urge to drag my thumb under her eyes.
“Let me get you something for those tears, sunshine,” I murmur.
“It’s okay.” She leans over to the box of Kleenex on the coffee table, but it’s empty. “Shoot. There’s a fresh box in the closet, I’ll go get it—”
“Let me. You stay right there.”
I go into the hall and open the storage closet door. There’s a bunch of boxes, cleaning supplies, a mop.
“I don’t see any Kleenex,” I yell back toward the couch.
I poke through behind some boxes, blinking in the muted light.
Something catches my eye, but it’s not what I’m searching for.
It’s a box of hockey merch. A jersey, a scarf in Nor’easters colors, a faded poster… and much more.
And then I freeze.
Because my own face is staring back at me.