Chapter 32 Cassie
Cassie
The one night at Cole’s house turns into more nights at Cole’s house.
The sex in his shower turns into more sex in his shower.
We have an agreement: take it slow, keep it secret, don’t label it.
The problem is, even though it’s definitely secret and carefully unlabeled… it doesn’t feel slow at all. My heart has fallen hard and fast. Which is a vulnerable position to be in.
Tonight, I lie in bed next to him, trying to ignore how fluttery my heart feels as he plays with my hair. “I have to go to the Legacy Sports annual party tomorrow,” I complain.
It’s a big networking celebration of the agency orchestrated by Rick and the other founders.
The interns plan the party; it’s a sort of hazing ritual.
Two years ago, a particularly flustered intern ordered double the usual alcohol and half the usual food, and half the office was falling over drunk by 8:30 p.m.
Cole runs his fingers along my neck—I try to ignore the pleasurable little shiver this ignites inside me. “You don’t sound enthusiastic about that. Usually your eyes light up about work stuff.”
“It’s fine. I just have to go schmooze with all the other agents. That’s a funny word. Schmooze. Shmoo-o-oze. Does it sound weird to you? Shmoo—”
Cole cuts me off. “You’re rambling, baby. Stop doing that.”
“I can’t. I’m nervous.”
“Don’t you go to this party every year?”
“Yes, but usually I’m there as a regular junior agent. Not the girl who got exiled to go supervise a star goalie all season. Plus, I’m usually not secretly sleeping with that goalie.”
“Point taken.” He smiles, gruff. “But relax, Cassie. You’ll do great. Just try not to say the word schmooze again.” He pauses a beat. “Anyway, what time should I pick you up?”
I raise my gaze in surprise. In my five years of going to this annual agency party, Cole has never once attended.
“Cole, you don’t have to come. Agency athletes are invited, but it’s not some mandatory Nor’easters thing. You’re allowed to skip it.”
He looks a little bashful. “Yeah, I know. But you’ve done enough supporting me through stuff this season. Let me do the same for you. I promise I won’t start shit or get in your way. Best behavior.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, and pull him into a kiss.
So Cole picks me up the next evening. I’m wearing a black dress that’s professional, but slightly cuter than what I’d usually wear to the office. I catch Cole’s appreciative stare sliding down to where it hits along my thigh, and I can’t hide my smile.
“Ready to network your ass off?” he says, opening his car door for me.
“Ready,” I confirm. “Armed with itemized lists of small talk topics and NHL news and super subtle ways to humblebrag about all my achievements.”
Cole laughs, which quickly turns into a frown. “Jesus. You actually made a list of small talk, didn’t you?”
“Shhh,” I reply, avoiding the question.
We arrive at the party, and he nods his head at the crowd. “Go work the room. Show those other agents what you’re made of. I’ll find some other players to make boring mid-season small talk with.”
“Got it,” I smile.
I spend the next thirty minutes chatting with coworkers, trying to make a good impression. Trying to make it seem like I’m spending this hockey season doing something useful.
Which, more and more, it… actually feels like I really am. Getting to help save Cole’s place on the Nor’easters is more exciting and worthwhile than most of the things I’ve done in the Legacy Sports office.
The incredible sex is just a bonus. Obviously.
I’m talking to Rick (well, listening to him complaining about the shrimp) when I catch sight of a group of middle-aged men chatting together across the room. One of them turns slightly, and that’s when I realize.
My stomach jolts. The sound of the party drowns out into a dull buzz around me.
My dad is here.
I had no idea he was invited, but I guess it makes sense: he’s a TV sports broadcaster now. A constant, horrible reminder of the thing about myself I’m trying to avoid.
I force myself to look at him. Fair hair turned gray. A flashy watch on his wrist. His teeth are too bright white.
His stare rises and meets mine. Just for a second. But it feels infinite, dragging out. I feel like a spotlight has burst into life above me. Sweat touches my brow, my stomach lurching.
Smoothly, he turns back to the agents he’s chatting with. Like nothing has happened, like he doesn’t recognize me at all.
Still, anxiety wraps its fingers around my neck.
Rick turns to follow my gaze. “Oh, John Novak is here. If you talk to him, make sure he’s having a good time.”
The sickness twists in my stomach all over again.
“You all right, Cassie?” Rick asks, staring at my paling face. “Did you eat one of the shrimp? I knew they looked old. Goddamn it, I’m going to talk to the interns about this—”
“It wasn’t the shrimp,” I mumble, before excusing myself and weaving back into the crowd.
My heart is thumping hard in my chest. I need to find Cole. I don’t know why this is the thought that crystallizes in my head. I haven’t told him about my dad yet. I haven’t known how to. But in an instant I know it’ll be better—maybe not okay, but better—if I can see Cole’s face.
To be honest, I don’t know if my dad would even recognize me.
He abandoned my mom when I was born, and there was never any indication he’d been checking in on my life from a distance.
As a kid, I used to fantasize about that.
About him turning up at the door one day, telling me he’d secretly watched me, and that he was proud.
Then I grew up and learned that I didn’t need that at all. All I need for happiness is my mom, myself, and my own hard work.
But his shadow still hangs over my career.
I’m lightheaded, and the crowd of partygoers around me is a blur as I move toward the bar. Where is Cole?
I turn—
And nearly bump straight into him.
Not Cole.
My dad.
For a dizzying few seconds, I stare at him. My throat is tight as I look back into blue eyes like mine.
His face is kind of uncanny: the beat-up crookedness of a retired, middle-aged NHL star, but he’s been wealthy long enough that he’s got that slick, artificial sheen on top of it, with an expensive suit to match. The kind of rich guy who thinks he can get away with anything.
I blink, regaining my voice, and quickly try to move past him. “Excuse me.”
But his voice stops me in my tracks.
“Cassie? Cassie Wells?” His voice, a rough rasp, is almost halting. Like he can’t believe it’s really me.
Shock ripples through me as he assesses my face. He knows who I am?
“I—wow. I can’t believe it. You look so much like your mother.”
A burst of anger explodes inside me, but I try to push it away. I can’t run away and bake cupcakes to repress this feeling. I have to face it right now.
I force the slightest of smiles, willing myself to put on a brave face, even though god does it hurt. “That’s what everyone says. Except for my eyes. Hers are dark brown. Mine are…”
“Like mine.” He runs a hand through his graying hair and gives a half-laugh, like he’s caught off-guard by his own emotions. “Christ, this is bizarre. I barely know what to say.”
“How do you think I feel?” I reply dryly. “How do you know who I am, anyway?”
“I saw your face in that clip a while ago with Cole Taylor.”
Right. The iced coffee video.
“My boss represents Cole, and we’ve been working together the last few months,” I explain. I swallow, feeling a lump like the pit of a peach in my throat. “I know you mentored Cole when he was new to the league. But he doesn’t—he doesn’t know. That you’re my father. No one at the agency knows.”
I don’t want Cole to know. I don’t want him to think I was hiding this from him. I don’t want him to judge me like I’m scared every other person in the world of hockey will judge me for this—view me as something unwanted and broken and forever in the shadow of the father I barely know.
“To be honest, I didn’t recognize you,” he says, staring at me intently. “Not till I saw the name. You took your mother’s last name, of course.”
The pieces slowly click together in my head. “You found out that I work for Legacy Sports. Is that why you accepted the invitation to this party? Is—is that why you’re here? To see me?”
He exhales and takes a long sip of his champagne. “Look, Cassie. I know you might be angry with me. But your mom gave me a choice. I was twenty-two. I was trying to break into the NHL. I just couldn’t… I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t give up what I’d been working toward. I wasn’t ready to be a father.”
“You think my mom was so ready?”
“No. But she was certain she was making the right decision. I wrote her a check, as much as I could give at the time, and she told me to never come back.”
I don’t want this. I don’t want to hear his justifications. Maybe neither of these two kids in their early twenties made the perfect decision. But that doesn’t stop the thrum of resentment I feel toward him for choosing to walk away.
Part of me wants to ask all the questions I have. Weren’t you curious? Didn’t you feel bad about it?
But I know the answer. It’s as bitter and simple as coffee taken black.
His life was so much better and easier just pretending I didn’t exist. He got a whole life, a wife, and NHL stardom. It’s easier for him to look away than to acknowledge his past.
And I’m fine with it. I just want him to leave me alone.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say firmly. “My mom did an amazing job of raising me alone. I know it was tough on her at times, but we were happy. I’d much prefer to just leave the past alone. If you’ll excuse me—”
I try to turn away.
“Wait.” He catches my arm and I flinch back from his touch.
“Cassie. Don’t go. I know it’s probably far too late for us ever to have an actual family relationship.
” He swallows, nerves flitting across his face.
“But I’m—I’m concerned people will start putting it together.
That you’re my daughter. I never expected you to follow me into the hockey business. ”
I arch an eyebrow. “I’m not too thrilled about people finding out either.” My voice hardens. “And for the record, I didn’t follow you. I made my own path from nothing because I fell in love with the sport on my own terms.”
“That’s all well and good, but I’ve spent decades building my profile in this sport.
I’ve always wanted to be seen as that guy.
The guy who gives back. The guy with a legacy.
That’s why I became a broadcaster after I retired.
If it ever comes out that I have a daughter I never… That you and your mother were…”
He trails off, straightening the cuff of his suit. It’s pathetic, really, how he can’t even say it out loud. All that money and success, and he’s too insecure to admit the consequences of his own actions.
“I get it,” I say. “You don’t want a dirty mark on your spotless reputation. Mr. Nice Guy of the NHL doesn’t have secret kids he walked out on.”
I watch as his jaw tightens, and he steps closer, glancing around before lowering his voice.
“Look, I can help you. I know I owe you more than you received. If you want a great new job, I have connections in all kinds of places in New York outside of hockey. You seem like a smart girl, and I’m sure you could work in anything.
If you want a check, I can cut it for you.
Name a number. I’m serious. What would it take for you to start fresh in a new line of work? ”
He smiles his charming broadcaster smile at me, all warm, like he’s doing me a favor.
A cold, sinking feeling grips my heart. So this is it. He wants me to leave the industry I’ve spent the last five years building a career in. Just to make things cleaner and easier for him. Though I made peace with his absence in my life long ago, this is incredibly insulting.
“You can’t buy me off. Being a sports agent is my dream, and my dreams aren’t for sale.” I set my drink down hard on the table next to us and fold my arms. “I can promise you I have no interest in telling anyone that you’re my father. All I want is to do my job in peace.”
A little jolt of panic crosses his face. I don’t think my assurance is enough to make him calm down.
“Cassie,” he says, putting on his charming broadcaster voice. “Come on. Be smart about this. I’m not trying to hurt you, I promise you that. I’m trying to protect both of us. This doesn’t have to be ugly.”
The word lands like a slap. “Ugly? What do you mean?”
He pauses, his lips coming together into a firm line. He might not be enjoying this, but he’s committed.
“You think your boss is going to back you up if he heard a rumor from my camp that you’re a liability?
I’ve been part of this league for thirty years.
I know everyone. I don’t mean this personally, but in the grand scheme of the industry, you’re nobody.
If you try to tell people some sob story about how I abandoned you…
Well, nobody’s going to believe you over me.
Even if they did, do you really think teams will want to work with someone who brings that kind of drama? ”
I open my mouth to reply, but I don’t have an answer. My hands shake at my sides.
I’ve wondered a thousand times what my dad might do if he ever ran into me. Here’s my answer. As much as he might believe he’s the good guy in this scenario, he’ll do whatever it takes to protect his reputation.
I see his eyes catch on someone over my shoulder. I slowly turn, and my heart plummets as I see Cole walking toward us.
My dad’s mouth lifts into a deceptively warm smile. “Hi Cole,” he says, “I was just talking to your friend Cassie.”