Chapter 22 Surrender
SURRENDER
REN
The place is dark when I return.
Which is odd considering it’s not that late, and Cassidy usually leaves some lights on for me.
I pull into the garage slowly, parking my SUV then watching the bay door close in the rearview mirror. Exhausted, I force myself to exit the vehicle, shutting the door gently as a shadow in front of the door to the house gives me pause.
Slowly, I move closer, pulling my cell phone from my pocket and turning the flashlight on, revealing Cassidy curled up beneath my jacket. She’s peaceful in slumber, but I note the dried tears on her cheeks, the way she clutches my jacket to her.
Giving up any semblance of being truly angry, I squat next to her, nudging her gently in the hopes I don’t scare her.
Her eyes flutter open, her brow furrowing slightly as she focuses on my face. A breath rushes out of her on a quiet sob, her hands clutching my jacket to her chest.
“Cassidy,” I murmur, my hands brushing the hair from her face. “What are you doing out here?”
She blinks up at me a few times, sniffles. “You came back.”
I frown, pulling my jacket from her grip and placing it back on the rail. Then I take her phone from her hand, shove it in the back pocket of my jeans. “Didn’t you get my text?”
She nods, but says nothing so I add, “I said I’d be back soon,” as if that statement alone should’ve reassured her enough to go about her night as normal. As if there was anything normal about our earlier conflict.
She nods again, but she looks so fucking sad I’m uncertain what I should do now. Obviously, I have plenty of things to say to her, but at this moment, none of it seems important.
“Fuck it,” I mutter mostly to myself, my hands already pulling her away from the door, my arms scooping her into me before she can react.
At first she’s tense, but within seconds she falls into me, her hands still tucked to her chest, her face pressed against my neck as I wrap my arms tightly around her.
Her body vibrates against me, either from emotion or cold—maybe both.
Wanting to get her out of the cold, I pull her up as I stand.
Holding her close, I open the door then maneuver her into the hallway before closing the door to the garage, and locking it.
Then I turn back to her, where she’s waiting with the same forlorn expression on her face.
Scooping her up, I cradle her in my arms, smiling at the squeak of surprise that falls from her lips when I jerk her off her feet. She struggles a bit, but I jostle her around until she stops wiggling and settles against me with a sigh.
“I can walk,” she whispers, her hand curved around my neck, her breath hot on my skin.
“I don’t care.”
I heft her up higher on my chest, grateful for all the endurance drills and weightlifting hockey has shoved down my throat over the years. I trudge up the stairs, relieved there’s only the one flight for fear I’d embarrass myself if I had to carry her much farther than our bedroom.
Still, I make it to the side of the bed where I slowly lower her to her feet. She stands easily enough, her arms wrapping around my waist, her cheek pressed against my pectoral right over my heart.
I rub my palms along her back, enjoying the feel of her pressed into me, her arms squeezing, her familiar scent surrounding me. Eventually, knowing it’s getting late, I loosen my hold, and she does the same, but we linger like that, taking an extra few moments to soak in the warmth of each other.
“Cass,” I murmur, leaning back and waiting for her to look at me. “I don’t know what’s going on with you. I won’t pretend to understand or fill you full of flowery bullshit because I’m just not programmed for that kind of fake nonsense.”
She’s watching me, her expression guarded, so I take her hand in both of mine and give her a moment to settle before continuing, “But I want you to know one thing.”
She frowns slightly, stares at me expectantly as she waits for me to continue, so I ask, just to be sure, “Are you listening to me?”
Her eyes narrow, her lips pursing slightly, and I ignore my urge to laugh at her disgruntled response to my obvious stall tactic. Then she mutters, “Yes, I’m listening.”
Sighing, I lean close, ensuring I have her full attention. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Bu—” she attempts to interrupt, but I raise my hand, silencing her.
I swallow, watching her for a moment before continuing, “You don’t need to say anything right now. You know I know what you said earlier was a pile of fucking horseshit. You can explain it to me some other time or don’t, I don’t fucking care. Just know I’m not going anywhere.”
Her expression softens slightly, but I see the fear glimmering in her eyes, the tension in her jaw. Not wanting to give her an opening to say something else completely offensive, I add, “You’re mine now.”
She frowns, squints, her lips twisting as if I’ve said something she finds distasteful. Confused I wait a moment, watching her expression shift until I’m sure she’s going to say something I’m definitely not going to like, and then I say in a rush, “I mean, I’m yours. Okay? Is that better?”
Her lips curve up slightly, and she nods, obviously pleased with my reworded declaration. Completely exasperated I step back. “Do you need anything? A drink? A snack?”
She shakes her head. “I’m so tired.”
Nodding, I usher her toward the bathroom, helping her with her bedtime routine, even as she attempts to shoo me away. She draws the line at me helping her brush her teeth, so I exit the bathroom, allowing her some space for the more personal care she may not want me to be privy to.
By the time she exits the bathroom, I’m lying under the blankets on her side of the bed. She walks over, stopping next to me. “What are you doing?”
“Just warming it up for you,” I respond easily, sliding out from under the blankets and standing, holding them open for her. At first, she stares at me like I’m an insane person, something I find incredibly amusing because I feel like a total jackass right now.
Somehow, I manage to swallow back my maniacal laugh as I motion for her to climb in. She does so with a final questioning look, quickly sinking into the bed with a sigh of relief. I tuck the bedding around her, bending over to place a soft kiss on her forehead before turning to go.
Her hand grabbing mine stops me, and I turn back to her, noting the slight panic in her voice as she asks, “Where are you going?”
“I’m just going to shower and get myself sorted,” I answer, my hand squeezing hers lightly. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
She searches my eyes, her lips curving up slightly. Then she nods and releases my hand, curling in on herself beneath the pile of blankets as her eyes close.
She appears to fall asleep almost instantly, likely from the late hour and the stress of the evening.
Glancing at my watch, I curse at exactly how late it is, wishing I didn’t have practice in the morning.
Not because practicing on little sleep bothers me, but because I don’t want Cassidy to wake up alone.
I could call out of practice, but I’d never hear the end of it, especially since everyone knows I’m married. I could wake her and have her come along, but I hate for her to have to get up early when she’s obviously exhausted.
Which means it’s time to call in reinforcements.
“Sleep tight, princess,” I whisper, then turn toward the bathroom. “I know just the thing to cheer you up.”