Chapter 17 A Panicked Response
A PANICKED RESPONSE
CASSIDY
Somehow, the news of our Vegas wedding has failed to hit the mainstream media, likely because the current event news is consistently drowning out any other type of news without question.
While I’m happy for the reprieve from having to answer for my questionable choices, sometimes waiting is even more difficult.
I spend a lot of time waiting for someone to slap me in the face with the question, and every time my father calls, I have a mild panic attack.
I should have already told him, but instead I’ve decided to stay here in my little bubble until it is forced out of me.
Ren and I spent the first few weeks of our marriage staying at Ren’s condo. He used the excuse of wanting to downsize his belongings before making the move, having decided to sell it rather than have it remain vacant for a year or more.
Given the current real estate market, it’s a sound financial decision; however, this didn’t make me any less nervous about the fact he won’t have easy access to a secondary residence.
It seems so…final.
I roll my eyes at my ridiculous thought given the fact that either one of us are fortunate enough to be able to purchase a new residence at a moment’s notice, pretty much anywhere we’d like. So, it’s not like him selling his condo means he plans on living with me forever.
I also think he just made an excuse to have his way with me in every room of the place before selling it.
I’d made a crass joke about him having already broken the place in with countless women, an accusation he quickly and vehemently denied.
Obviously, I feigned nonchalance and pretended I didn’t care at all, but I can’t deny the thrill his admission sent through me.
I know he was never a monk; I’m not stupid. But to know some places were reserved for more serious endeavors helps ease the unfamiliar sting of…jealousy.
Unfortunately, our agreement to always travel together was immediately thwarted by commitments made before we struck our big deal.
I had some underlying worry about how we’d manage the days apart, given our arrangement is so new, and Ren is infinitely horny, but for the most part, it has been nice for the occasional breather.
Then there’s the fact he doesn’t go too long without checking in with me, a habit I initially thought I’d get annoyed with, but ended up secretly enjoying. Not that I’ll be telling him that.
He had to travel to Seattle today for his game tomorrow, but I stayed behind because I had a few meetings I couldn’t get out of.
I offered to go up tomorrow morning for his evening game, but Ren said he wouldn’t begrudge me some R&R given he’d rather I not travel alone.
Part of me was disappointed, but a larger part of me was happy to have some time alone.
Currently sprawled in the middle of the bed, I smile as my phone pings, right on schedule. Retrieving it, I open our message string, shaking my head at the question he asks me several times per day, regardless of where he is.
Ren: Are you following the rules?
I don’t bother responding, instead hitting the video call, which he answers immediately. Saying nothing, I lower the phone as I lift my skirt, giving him a tiny glimpse of my lack of underclothing before raising the phone back to my face.
Smirking, I flip him the bird and then hang up on him.
Knowing he’s likely cursing a blue streak, I cackle then stare at my phone, waiting for his imminent disgruntled response.
And wait.
And wait.
And wait.
That fucker.
Refusing to be the first to respond, I mute my phone then toss it on the other side of the bed rather petulantly.
The fact I’m being childish is irrelevant since this is the kind of game we’ve always played.
He’s the grouchy, serious, boring guy, and I’m the bratty thorn in his side daring him to lighten up.
Yawning, I contemplate what order I should do all the evening things.
Eat. Shower. Sleep.
Shower. Eat. Sleep.
Sleep.
Suddenly, I’m exhausted, any thought of food or cleanliness pushed right off the to-do list. I shouldn’t be surprised to find myself tired after so many weeks of being tugged in one hundred different directions.
Yawning, I pull the heavy blanket over me, roll to my side, close my eyes, and sink into slumber.
“CASSIDY!”
I jerk awake, startled by what sounded like my name being shouted from outside of the room. Blinking into the darkness, I roll onto my back, listening intently for what may have waken me.
Then it sounds again, “CASSIDY!” but this time the shouted name is followed up by heavy footfalls coming swiftly down the hallway.
Sitting up, I grab for my phone, still where I had tossed it earlier, revealing countless missed calls and texts, and the current time.
5AM.
Shit.
I push the blanket off me, scooting to the side of the bed, but my feet haven’t even hit the floor before the door flies open, revealing a wild-eyed Ren. He makes a beeline for me, his hands grabbing my upper arms and pulling me to my feet. “Where the fuck were you?”
“What?”
He gives me a slight shake, his eyes searching mine. “Why weren’t you answering your phone?”
My first instinct is to tear myself out of his grip and tell him to get fucked because I do what I want. But beneath his outward anger I hear the worry in his voice. The panic.
“I fell asleep,” I explain in a rush. “I forgot to unmute my phone.”
“You can’t fucking do that, Cassidy,” he responds, his words hard, his grip bordering on painful. “I have to be able to reach you. I have to.”
His voice is harsh, but his expression frantic, as if he’d spent hours going over worse case scenarios instead of thinking rationally. A problem I can relate to all too well.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer, tears pooling in my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
His features soften, his tight grip on my upper arms immediately easing. Sitting next to me, his hands move upward, one cupping my neck and along my skull, pulling me into him. His other hand slides over my shoulders, hugging me close.
I go willingly, embarrassed that I’m now crying openly, completely overwhelmed by the shock of being woken so abruptly. Turning into him, I hide my face against his chest, grateful my tears disappear into the soft cotton of his shirt.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he whispers into my hair, his hand on my back now rubbing soothingly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Sniffling, I shake my head. “It’s okay. I understand.”
And I do understand. If our positions had been reversed, I would’ve gone into a panic, too. Though in my messed-up brain I would’ve talked myself into thinking he was out being a no-good cheating piece of shit and reacted accordingly.
Brains are stupid sometimes.
“Do you, though,” he asks with a harsh laugh that lacks humor.
“I knew at first you were just being a brat. But then, as more time went by and you didn’t respond, I started to worry.
Then even more time went by, and I couldn’t find anyone local to check up on you, and then I reached full-on panic mode. ”
“I wasn’t thinking about the muted phone,” I whisper, my hands now gripping his shirt as I lean into him. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for you to worry.”
He’s quiet for a moment then sighs. “I’m sorry I came storming in here like an asshole. I’m not used to worrying about anyone other than myself.”
“Yeah,” I answer with a short laugh. “Me either.”
He starts to pull away, so I clutch at him, not ready to reveal my tired, splotchy face, proof of my emotional upheaval. He kisses the top of my head then puts some space between us, explains, “Let’s get more comfortable. I’ve had a long night.”
Suddenly feeling bad once again, I jump up, intent on allowing him to move wherever he chooses, but his hand grabs onto my wrist, preventing me from moving too far. He slides up the mattress, taking me with him as he settles on his back, pulling me gently until he has me cradled along his side.
I wait for him to relax then ask, “You drove here? From Seattle?”
“It’s not that far,” he responds, his shoulder lifting in a dismissive fashion beneath my head.
Slapping him lightly on the chest I exclaim, “It is in the middle of the damn night, Ren.”
“Yeah,” he huffs. “That’s what some of my teammates said, too, and since they have no idea what the fuck my hurry was, they for sure think I’ve lost my damn mind.”
“What about your game?”
“I can get a quick nap and make it back for warmups.”
“I can drive you,” I offer. “Or we can grab a quick flight.”
“You wanna come to my game?”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see my expression through his closed eyes. “I mean, I may as well since you came all this way to get me.”
“A flight would be good,” he says with a yawn. “If you think you can arrange one last-minute.”
I smile, not bothering to respond because, of course, I can arrange a last-minute flight. His hand starts to fall away from my shoulder, but then he adjusts his grip, apparently not ready to release me. “Can I ask you something?”
My stomach drops, knowing him, asking permission to ask a question is indicative to an incoming question I won’t want to answer. Even so, I shrug. “You can ask.”
He’s quiet for a moment, his hand stroking my shoulder absently until I start to think he’s not going to go on. But then he asks, “Why’d you choose me?”
Grimacing, I force myself to remain pressed into his side. I go to respond, but he interrupts me. “Don’t say red, Cass. Please.”
His tone is soft, almost desperate, and my chest constricts, torn between protecting myself and not wanting to hurt him. So, after a short pause I confess, “It was an off the record response you gave during a recent interview.”
“What are you talking about?” he huffs, confusion evident in his words. “What question? And how’d you get an off the record answer?”
“I was there,” I admit, even as I want to sink into the mattress and disappear. My heart pounds in my chest, my sudden urge to confess all my sins all but sending me into a tailspin. “So, I guess I was eavesdropping.”
He chuckles softly, and I relax slightly as he says, “Always such a brat.”
I hide my smile against his side, my fingers playing with his shirt. “Yeah. But my ability to not be seen in plain sight has served me well.”
He shakes his head then jostles me as he prods, “What was the question?”
My stomach drops again, and my urge to run returns. I clear my throat, once, twice, and then he jostles me again, urging me to explain further. So, I whisper, “She asked why you haven’t come close to settling down.”
“What did I say?”
Again, I clear my throat, wishing the room was completely dark so I could at least hide from his searching gaze.
“You credited your parents. How much they love each other. How they doted on you while still managing to work on their relationship. How even on days where they couldn’t look at each other they always managed to put your needs before their own wounded feelings. ”
“You decided to trade your hockey team for my idyllic account of my childhood?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “I know that sounds crazy.”
“Crazy is all relative, princess.”
“Well, when I speak it out loud, it sounds stupid.”
“I don’t think there’s anything stupid about choosing a partner who had decent role models throughout their life. Or someone you feel will put the health and wellbeing of your children first while also having respect for your relationship.”
“I wanted that,” I confess. “And since I didn’t get that growing up, I wanted to know my sons or daughters will have it.”
He adjusts his hold on me, pulling me away as his head comes up, our eyes meeting. “They will. I promise.”
Once again, my eyes sting, and I blink rapidly, not wanting to embarrass myself by crying again. Luckily, he doesn’t continue to stare at me, instead resuming our previous position of him hugging me to his side, and we fall into an easy silence.
There’s an ache in my chest that matches the ache behind my eyes, and I rub my cheek against his shoulder, enjoying the slow slide of his fingers along my arm where he’s still clutching me.
Normally, the first glimmer of an emotional response would have me hightailing it out of here, but this feels different. Steady. Solid. Scary but not outright terrifying in this moment.
His breath evens out, his body sinking into the mattress a bit more. I ease back, attempting to extricate myself from his hold, but his arms tighten. “Where are you going?”
I laugh, this time shaking him off as I roll away. “I’m going to remove your shoes so you can rest comfortably.”
He says nothing, just continues watching me as I remove one shoe and then the other, placing the pair in the closet.
Turning back to him I suddenly feel ridiculously awkward. “What time do we need to leave?”
“If we’re in Seattle by 4pm, we should be good.”
I move to the head of the bed, kneeling on the mattress so I can pull the blanket up over him. Feeling foolish, I tuck it around him, then, not knowing what to do, I place a quick kiss on his forehead before scurrying off the bed, and hurrying toward the door. “Sleep well.”
“Cass?”
I stop in the doorway, turning slightly toward him. “Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
I smile. Nod. Then leave him to his sleep.