Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Cassidy
“It was impossible to get a conversation going; everybody was talking too much.”
Yogi Berra
The applause hadn’t faded when I returned to table seven.
It still echoed in my ears, long after the lights dimmed and the next speaker took the stage.
I’d done it. The slides worked, my voice hadn’t cracked, and I’d told a ballroom full of strangers the truth—that I missed my dad, that I wanted to build something better out of what he left behind, that maybe this was my way of showing up for people the way I couldn’t for him.
They clapped like it was profound. But they didn’t see the quake in my hands when I passed the mic to Nate.
I’d spent the last four days trying not to feel it.
Instead, I filled every hour with distraction disguised as productivity—three reels I didn’t care about, a fake-laugh podcast, a designer tote I unboxed out of spite.
I reorganized my closet by color, bought PR kits I’d never open, rewrote my LinkedIn bio like legitimacy could fix the ache.
None of it worked. The silence from that coffee shop still echoed.
I missed him. The teasing, the smell of him, the way he made me feel like I could exhale. It had only been days. What would happen when he moved across the country?
I slipped into my chair, smile fixed. The hospital rep said my speech was moving; the exec beside her handed me a card, murmuring keep doing what you’re doing. I thanked them, sipped my water, pretended my hands weren’t shaking.
But I could feel Nate beside me.
Too close. Not close enough. His shoulder brushed mine when he sat, his suit crisp, jaw tight.
Neither of us spoke.
Then his knee knocked softly against mine under the table. He didn’t pull back. A moment later, his fingers skimmed the back of my neck—light, familiar, like muscle memory.
I froze. The contact sent a crack of heat up my spine, stealing my breath.
He leaned closer. “You always get that look when you’re trying not to cry.”
My grip tightened on my glass. “What look?”
He didn’t answer. Just eased back, his hand falling to his lap as if nothing had happened.
I stared ahead, heart pounding. I wanted to tell him how proud I was, how his speech about leadership and grief had undone me. That he looked like the version of himself I’d fallen for—the quiet strength who carried everyone without asking for credit.
That if I let myself, I’d reach across the table and hold his hand because I missed him that much.
Instead, I smiled at the hospital VP and asked about the first Cass Cares kit delivery. I meant it, because this mattered. This was what I’d built out of heartbreak and memory—the apology I couldn’t give my dad, the promise I could still keep for everyone else.
Cass Cares wasn’t content. It was my second chance. My way of saying I’m still here.
I was proud. He would’ve been too. My dad would’ve rolled his eyes at the lighting, joked about the charcuterie board, then hugged me tight and said, “You knocked it out of the park, kiddo.”
I looked at Nate once, carefully, when no one was watching.
He sat perfectly still, fork untouched, eyes fixed somewhere far away. The same look he’d had in the coffee shop—resignation, defeat—and it gutted me.
Then, slow enough not to draw attention, he shifted closer. His thigh brushed mine. His hand rested near his leg until his pinky tapped against mine.
My breath caught. I didn’t pull away.
“You twist your napkin when you’re overwhelmed,” he murmured.
I looked down. My fingers had knotted the linen in my lap.
He turned slightly, knee pressing to mine again, the backs of his fingers grazing my wrist. The touch was barely there, but I felt it everywhere.
“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered.
God.
I couldn’t answer. If I said no, I’d fall apart. If I said yes, I’d be lying.
The hospital rep leaned over to ask a question, and I smiled, answering like nothing was wrong. Nate said nothing more, but he kept his knee against mine. When he reached for his glass, his fingers brushed mine again—light, deliberate, enough to make me lose my breath all over again.
I stood. Not abruptly. Not loud. Just a smooth, practiced motion.
I had to get some air. Right freaking now.
Before I had a viral-worthy meltdown at my own charity coming out party.
Sure, it’d get me great press probably but no, not worth it.
I already knew what it was like to go viral for breaking down. Never again.
I smoothed my dress and offered a soft smile to the table. “Excuse me,” I said, voice calm. “Just going to step out for some air.”
No one stopped me. Why would they? I was the polished face of a new nonprofit. I had given my speech. Shaken hands. Done my job. I could fade into the night and no one would know.
The sound of my own breath echoed louder than the chatter still murmuring behind me as I pushed through the doors, putting more space between Nate and I.
God, it was hard being this near to him.
I missed him. I missed him so much but it was better that I ended it.
He’d be across the country and I wouldn’t survive it.
I couldn’t have someone else leave me and I couldn’t hold him back.
My chest was too tight. My hands were trembling. My feet hit the tile harder than I meant them to, each step sharper than the last. I didn’t even know where I was going until I was already halfway down the back hallway.
I’d spent the last week convincing myself I’d let him go for the right reasons. But watching him stand there tonight … hearing him talk about mentorship and showing up and the weight of connection … feeling his hand barely brush mine to give me strength because he knew I was nervous?
It had shattered every last piece of resolve I had left.
And I didn’t know if I was running from him or about to turn around and run straight back. Damn. I paused, took a few deep breaths when a familiar throat cleared a few feet behind me.
“Your speech was incredible tonight. You were incredible.”
My heart stuttered. He followed me and wasn’t even winded. That wasn’t fair. Not the point, Cass. I turned, slow, careful. “Thanks,” I said, keeping it light and staring at a spot over his shoulder, not meeting his eyes. It was easier that way. “You did well, too.”
His mouth quirked like he wanted to smile, but didn’t quite make it there. “Why are you running?”
Pressure built behind my ribs, the slow crawl of panic that came when too many feelings piled too fast and I didn’t have anywhere to put them. “Just, needed air.”
“Don’t insult me. I know you.” He stepped closer, his green eyes narrowing as his jaw flexed. “Try again. Why are you running?”
I stepped back, my heart beating the shit out of my ribs. I’d be bruised at this point. Honestly, I was surprised I hadn’t passed out with how hard my pulse raced. “I wanted space.”
“Why?” He stepped closer again, backing me into a wall. I had nowhere else to go. No escape. His gaze moved from my eyes to my mouth, and back. His voice deepened as he dragged his fingers over my collarbone. “Fuck, I needed to touch you for a second.”
“Nate,” I begged, my voice cracking. I held it in all night but with him right here, touching me, being his demanding self … I couldn’t do it anymore. My eyes watered and my jaw trembled. “I can’t … what are you—”
He cupped the back of my head, his lips curving up into a small smile as he ran his thumb over my lips.
“If you think I’m ever going to let you walk away from me again, where I don’t follow you, you’ll be mistaken.
” He laughed softly, his hand moving from my head to my shoulder, his fingers teasing under the thin blue strap holding my dress on.
“Tonight made something quite clear to me.”
He had me in a chokehold—the way he stared at me with the same intensity I saw on the mound, the slight touches and small smiles …
I was putty in his hands. “What do you mean?” I whispered, terrified to move.
I didn’t want him to drop his hand, or move away from me.
He was so close and I needed him to kiss me.
“You still love me and baby, I’m not waiting a second longer before telling you how I feel.”
Holy holy balls. My throat tightened and words escaped me as Nate tilted my chin up and spoke in his unfairly hot and gravelly voice. “I fucking love you, Cassidy and while I understand your intent, you’re not ending this, not ending us.”
“You love me,” I repeated, barely above a whisper. “But what about—”
“There is no but after that sentence, love.” He closed the distance between us, positioning me so my chest pressed against his. “I’m fighting for the life I want. No one else gets to decide that for me. Not the front office, not the press, not even you.”
“Does that mean…” I paused, deciding it doesn’t matter. “You know what? I don’t care where you live. I want this too. I want us.”
“Mm, I like that, but I’m gonna need some different three words. Can you give them to me?”
I trembled at the way his gaze heated and his voice lowered. “I missed you?”
“Try again.” He smiled, clearly amused.
“I love baseball?”
“You are a pain in the ass, but you’re mine.” He bent low and kissed me hard, nipping my bottom lip with a growl. “Tell me you love me, Cass, or I’m gonna be pissed.”
“I love you,” I whispered against his mouth, our eyes meeting. “I love you so much it hurts.”
Nate exhaled, his body trembling as he pressed his forehead to mine.
Our breaths mingled, our bodies still so close I could feel his heart hammering through his suit.
“You own me,” he murmured. “You own my goddamn soul, Cassidy. Without even meaning to, you helped me see there is more to life than baseball and that happiness isn’t an either-or option. It’s a choice. And you’re mine.”
I threaded my fingers through the front of his jacket and tugged him even closer. “I’m sorry for everything. I thought … I was protecting you,” I whispered. “And maybe me a little bit too.”
“You weren’t,” he said, brushing my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You were protecting the version of me that didn’t know how to fight for what I wanted.”
“And now?” I asked. “Are you a different version of yourself O’Brien?”
His mouth curved slightly, eyes never leaving mine. “Now I know exactly what I want. And I’m not fucking going anywhere. This is my home, this is my city. You are my woman and I’m staying here.”
The pressure behind my eyes built again, but it wasn’t fear this time. It was relief. Hope. All the things I’d shoved down for weeks coming up. My knees gave out, and Nate caught me like he’d been waiting for it.
His arms wrapped around my waist, steady and sure, like he wanted to support me all on his own.
My cheek pressed to his chest. I felt his heart racing beneath my palm, felt his breath stumble just once before it evened out again.
We stood there, tangled up in each other in the middle of a dimly lit hallway while the rest of the world moved on without us.
“I’ve got you,” he said into my hair. “You’re not alone anymore, Cass, and I’m never leaving.”
A soft, shaking sound escaped me. Half-laugh, half-sob. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever forgive me. I’m sorry. I.. I missed you so much.”
“I miss you too, love.” He kissed my temple, squeezing me harder with his strong embrace. “I want you to hear this from me,” he paused, brushing his hand over my side again.
“Hear what?”
“I told J.O. this afternoon,” he said, his voice steady now. “I’m not leaving. I’m finishing the season here. And after that, whatever comes next, I want you in it.”
“But—”
“Honey,” he said, tipping my chin up again. “There is no but. I’m not chasing a ring for the sake of it. If I get a ring, it’s gonna be here in my hometown with team I’ve been with for ten years. It’s gonna be for this state, for the fans who followed me, and for your dad.”
Shit.
Tears spilled over now and he caught them with a finger, his gaze softening as he kissed each eye. “Damnit, Nate.”
“Those better be happy tears, baby.”
He pressed his lips to mine. The taste of whiskey lingered on his tongue, warm and heady, but it was him underneath it all. Solid. Familiar. Mine.
I melted into the kiss, a whimper catching in my throat as my fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket, gripping him like I was afraid he’d vanish if I let go. His hand tightened at my waist in response, claiming me.
My entire body buzzed under his touch—skin too tight, lungs too shallow, heart beating like it was trying to claw out of my chest. Every nerve felt like it had been pulled to the surface. I kissed him harder, desperate to make up for every second I’d spent pretending I didn’t love him.
And when he pulled back just enough to look at me, his lips still brushing mine, I saw it. The future.
Not in some hypothetical, someday way.
In us. Right here. Right now.
Images slammed into me: Nate holding my hand on a plane, grinning in photos he pretended to hate.
Visiting Amanda and the baby, teasing me over lunch orders and sleep schedules.
Late nights filming content in sweats while he muttered about lighting angles.
Kissing him awake on mornings he didn’t have to pitch.
Letting him braid my hair with clumsy fingers and too much concentration.
Visiting my dad’s grave, sharing the ups and downs together.
Him helping with the charity, packing baskets with donations all weekend.
I could see all of it and boy, it filled me with a warmth and happiness I didn’t know I could have.
“I want this so much,” I whispered against his mouth, my voice shaking as my chest swelled with something so big it almost hurt. My stomach flipped, my knees wobbled, and I clung to him, trying to anchor myself to the only thing that felt real.
He cupped my face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the wet streaks on my cheeks.
“I know,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine. “Me too. God, me too. You remember how you said you were meant to meet me?”
I nodded, my lips trembling.
“Well, I think your dad arranged this somehow. He wanted us to meet and we’re gonna honor him the rest of our lives together.”
I couldn’t not kiss him again, not after that. Not after this man healed my soul and helped me rebuild myself. So I did because I could. I tugged his mouth down to mine and kissed the hell out of him.
And for the first time in months, I felt like I was home.