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Cole eases his Mustang over to the side of the familiar tree lined street before cutting the engine.  For just a moment we both sit silently staring at the red brick, two story house situated on a pretty corner lot.  My breath hitches as I contemplate my childhood home.

I’m having some serious second thoughts about what I’m intent on doing.  And, truth be told, I’m feeling kind of guilty for dragging Cole into with me.  He’s aware that there is tension between my parents and me but he has no idea just how bad it really is.

“Ready?”  His softly spoken word slices through the thick silence of the car.

Taking a deep breath, I finally turn to meet his gaze. 

At this time of the day, both my parents should be at work, leaving the house empty.  I’ve spent the previous week going round and round with myself about this.  And what I keep coming back to is that I want my hockey gear.  I’m tired of wearing crappy rental skates.  What I don’t know is if my equipment is still here or if my dad actually got rid of it.  Because almost ten months ago, that’s exactly what he said he was going to do.  If that’s the case, then I’m pretty much screwed because there’s no way I can afford new equipment now. 

Stiffening my spine, I try shaking off the nerves that are dancing their way across my skin.  But it’s easier said than done.  “Yeah, come on.”  With that, I open the car door and start up the driveway to the white painted front door.  My mom used to hide a key under the terracotta front planter for emergencies and I pray that hasn’t changed like so many other things.

If it’s not there, then this mission is over and I’ll be stuck with cheap brown rental skates for the foreseeable future.

I breathe a quick sigh of relief as my fingers close around cold metal.  “It’s here.” With shaking fingers I pull it from under the large pot before sliding it into the brass lock.  As I push open the front door, the stale air from within the house hits me like an unexpected blow to the gut.

When I’d been forced to leave college last December, my father could barely stand to look at me, so they had arranged for me to live with my grandparents for about nine months before moving to Western in late August.  I haven’t seen or spoken to my dad in all that time.  My mom and two younger sisters had visited occasionally but it wasn’t very often.  And those visits had usually ended up feeling stilted and awkward.

Standing in the entryway of the house I’d grown up in and yet was unable to return to after the debacle that was my first freshman semester is just another devastating consequence that occurred.  Unconsciously I rub my chest as I feel it tighten with thick waves of suffocating emotion.

I almost jump out of my skin as Cole lays a gentle hand on my shoulder before squeezing it.  “Are you okay?”  His eyes carefully search my face.  I think he’s beginning to recognize the signs of my anxiety, the ones that lead to an attack which should embarrass me but instead… it just makes me fall a little bit harder for him.

In response, I suck in a shaky breath.

Am I okay?

I almost laugh.  Hell no… I’m not okay.  I want nothing more than to get out of here and never return.  My heart is galloping, racing as if it just might pound its way right out of my chest.  The ache there is building… intensifying…spreading its way slowly through my body.

Closing my eyes, I silently recite the words in my head-
deep
breath in, slowly exhale out.  Deep breath in, slowly exhale out.
  Over and over and over again.

Even though Cole doesn’t say anything more, he keeps his hand on my shoulder as if to let me know that he’s here. Almost as if he’s anchoring me to him.  The tightness in my chest slowly begins to loosen, receding like the tide.

What I need to do is find my gear and hightail it back to school where I can breathe again.  As a child, I never imagined the day would come when this house wasn’t my refuge.  But the simple truth is that it’s not.  This is now one more place where I don’t belong.  An overwhelming sadness engulfs me at that thought before I quickly push it away.

“I’m okay.” I say the words slowly trying to keep the strain from seeping into my voice. “Let’s check out the basement.”  What I don’t add is that if my gear isn’t there, then my dad probably got rid of it pretty much like he got rid of me.

As we move silently through the first floor towards the stairs that lead to the basement, Cole finds my fingers before clasping them in his own.  Glancing over my shoulder, he gives me a reassuring smile.  I give him a small one in return.  Without him by my side, I don’t think I could have made the trip back here.  I don’t think I could have faced the silent ghosts of my family.

Even though I’m taking gear that is mine, it feels like I’m doing something wrong.  Like I’m breaking into my own house and stealing stuff that doesn’t belong to me.  As much as I try to shake off the unsettling feeling, I just can’t.

Once we make our way to the basement, I move to the furnace room which we also use for storage.  Our family always jokingly referred to this room as a mini hockey store.  My two little sisters dance and cheer, so other than shoes and costumes, they don’t have equipment to store. This room has always been for me and my dad.  He grew up playing hockey and played Juniors right out of high school. Two years after that, he was forced to quit when he broke his leg in three different places.  But he loved hockey too much to give it up.  So he continued playing in beer leagues and when I started skating, he coached me until I left for college.

I think that’s why my failure last year hit him so hard.  But still… Even though he was disappointed, he should have been there for me.  I had needed him…  I had needed my family.  Even though I fucked up, I had needed all of them to help pick me back up again.

But that’s not what happened.

Inhaling a deep breath, I close my eyes once more. I’m pissed at myself for allowing all this BS back into my head.  I may have disappointed my family… but they disappointed me as well.  When I had needed them to stand by me, they had taken the easy way out and shipped me off, leaving me to deal with the fallout alone.

My eyes fly open as Cole wraps his arms around me, holding me close to his warm hard body.  He doesn’t ask questions, just continues holding me until I finally pull away before clearing my throat.  I don’t know what it is about Cole that makes me feel so safe, but he does.

“If they still have my gear, it would be here.”

Cole finally glances around the shelving units my father built to house all our old equipment.  It’s crammed with clear bins full of skates, socks, gloves, pants, shoulder pads, and jerseys.  Fiberglass sticks take up a whole shelf as do the oversized bags.

“Holy crap, it’s like a hockey store in here.”  There’s just a touch of awe tinging his voice as his eyes fly around the room in amazement.

One side of my mouth lifts slightly. “Yep.”  I glance over at him.  “My dad owns a hockey and lacrosse store in town.”

He mouths, “Wow,” before rifling through some sticks.  Pulling one out, he runs his fingers carefully over the shaft.  “Do you know how expensive this one is?” 

His question is more rhetorical in nature because we both know just how costly that brand of stick is.  Shaking my head, I feel some of the heaviness being lifted from me.  I just need to focus on the task at hand and then get the hell out of here.

“Do you see any of your old stuff?”  He asks this question as he helps me search through bins.

Taking another deep breath, I start rifling through clear plastic containers looking for the equipment I’d taken with me to school last year.  “Not yet,” I mutter realizing that maybe, in his anger, my dad really had thrown everything out. I wouldn’t put it past him.  I’d never seen him so pissed.

Trying to be positive, Cole says, “Well, I think you could probably piecemeal some stuff together from all this and then we could look online for the rest.  That would be the cheapest way to go.”  He gives me a little wink.  “We’ll raid the lost and found at the rink.”

Scrunching up my face in disgust, I realize that I might not have a choice in the matter.

“Yeah,” I finally admit.  But I want my stuff.  Everything fit me perfectly.  Sure, maybe I could find a pair of gloves and definitely a stick in here.  But skates?  No way. I had outgrown all my old ones and hockey skates could run at least three hundred dollars a pair.  And those were the cheap ones. Plus, I don’t really want to take anything that doesn’t belong to me.  That would only piss my dad off more and I certainly don’t need that.

Just as I’m about to give up, because I’ve searched through every neatly stacked container there is, Cole shoves aside a few old hockey bags.   And there it is- my pink and black bag.  It’s a little dusty but no worse for the wear.  Feeling my heart skip a beat, I step just a bit closer as he unzips it.

It’s all there.

Looking just like the last time I saw it.

Cole meets my eyes with a smile curving his lips upwards.  Zipping it back up, he hauls the bag over his shoulder.  “Do you have a stick?” 

Rifling through about fifteen sticks, I find my favorite and then one of my backups.  I can’t help but run my hand slowly down the shaft. Both the grip and the blade are still wrapped in bright pink tape.

Eyeing my stick, Cole shakes his head sadly. “You are such a girl.”

“Just remember that I’m a girl who can kick your ass out on the ice.”  Yeah, that probably isn’t true at all but it lightens the mood which is exactly what I need.

He smirks.  “Well, that remains to be seen but we’re definitely on for a rematch.”

Just as we’re shutting off the basement lights, I hear the front door open before slamming shut.  The entire house shakes with the vibration of it.  My stomach nosedives somewhere into my toes.  Sucking in a breath, my sneaker clad feet grind to a halt.  My wide gaze flies to Cole as my pulse kicks into overdrive.  By the sound of the heavy footfalls above us, I know it’s my dad.

Crap.

Fresh waves of icy cold panic wash over me.  My chest squeezes making it difficult to suck in air.  “I can’t face him,” I murmur more to myself than to Cole.  Feeling almost frantic, I shake my head before saying in a choked, frightened voice, “I can’t face him right now.”

Cole shifts from one foot to the other.  There’s confusion written all over his face as if he doesn’t quite understand what the big deal is.  “Is that your dad?”

“Yeah.”  My mouth has completely dried up.  A slight tremble takes hold of my body.

His golden eyes study me carefully before understanding slowly dawns. “Is he going to be mad that we’re here?”  Although by his tone of voice I think he already knows the answer to that question. And my silence only reconfirms it.  I’m rethinking my stance on not mentioning to Cole that my family and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms.

I probably should have filled him in so he could have made his own choice about getting involved in this.  But I had really thought we could sneak in and out under the radar while my dad and mom were at work.  Cole has absolutely no idea what kind of minefield he’s about to walk into and I find that as I stand there listening to my dad stomp across the wood floor above us, there is no time to explain it to him.  I’m not even sure if I could find the words.

“Cassidy,” he says almost soothingly, “everything’s going to be okay.  Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

I want to laugh.  No… not laugh.  I want to run and hide.  My dad is the absolute last person I want to face.  But there’s no choice.

Cole reaches out, taking a firm hold of my fingers before securing them tightly within his hand.  Then he draws my frightened eyes to his.  “I’m here with you.  Everything is going to be okay.”

Even though I nod, I don’t believe him for one minute.  I flinch as my dad’s deep voice cuts through the air.

“Cassidy?”

Clearing my dry throat, I try to steady the quaking emotion within me.  “Yeah, dad, I-I’m in the basement.”  But even I can hear the thin quiver snaking its way through my voice.

My dad says nothing in response as we slowly make our way up the stairs to the kitchen.  We find him leaning stiffly against the granite counter, his thickly muscled arms crossed tensely over his chest, waiting for us.

His eyes narrow as he takes in Cole and the pink and black bag he has hauled over his broad shoulder.  Then his gaze slides back to me.  There is absolutely no warmth within his deep blue eyes as they hold mine.  Throughout my entire life, people have always commented on how similar my dad and I look.  We have the same eyes and jet black hair.   But that’s where the physical differences end because my dad is a huge hulking man.  Solid.  Built for defense.  And I’m petite like my mother.  More finely boned.  Built for speed.

Without any pleasantries towards Cole, which just makes this moment even more awkward, my dad starts in on me just as I feared he would.  And the last thing I need is for Cole to have a front row seat to our family dysfunction. Nor do I want him hearing my dad’s version of what transpired last year.  The picture he’ll paint will undoubtedly be ugly.

“Luckily the neighbors keep an eye on the house during the day. They called to let me know someone was breaking in.  You’re damned lucky they contacted me instead of the police.”

I’m not really sure this whole situation has turned out lucky for me.  I’m thinking that being picked up for a little B&E would be preferable to the confrontation my dad is set on having.  But I wisely keep that to myself.

“We didn’t break in, dad.”  I say the words quietly hoping that he won’t totally lose his shit and start foaming at the mouth.

“Why didn’t you call and tell us that you were stopping by?  Why slink in here when you know perfectly well that we’d be at work?”

I’m pretty sure the answer to that question is painfully obvious to all three of us.

Instead of leading with the truth, I try playing off the question. “This was the only time we had between classes and it was kind of a spur of the moment decision.”  It’s doubtful that I’m fooling anyone.  Including Cole.  Having him here right now makes me want to cringe.

As if suddenly reminded of Cole’s quiet presence, my dad’s heavy gaze shifts before scrutinizing him silently.  But still my dad doesn’t say a word as his eyes arrow right back to mine.  He shakes his head as if I’ve managed to disappoint him yet again.  “I thought you would have learned your lesson after last year, Cassidy.  Obviously not.”

Turning to Cole before my dad can become anymore wound up, I murmur quietly, “Could you please wait for me in the car?”  I just want him out of this house and away from my dad.  This is humiliating enough without him witnessing anything else.

Clearly not understanding our contentious relationship, Cole’s uneasy gaze bounces slowly between my dad and me.  “I’ll stay if you want me too.” 

Even though I normally find Cole’s presence comforting, I don’t want him anywhere near here.  Shaking my head, I manage some strangled version of a smile.  “No, it’s fine.  I’ll be out in a minute.”  My eyes plead silently with his and I can tell that he wants to argue or just flat out refuse.  “Okay?”

Looking tense, Cole finally jerks his head into a nod before hesitantly backing out of the large, sun filled kitchen.  My dad and I remain silent until we hear the front door open and close.

My dad’s anger filled eyes never once release mine.  Any moment I’m going to start squirming like a six year old caught doing something mischievous.  Although, granted, this is much worse.

As is my dad’s way, he cuts right to the heart of the matter. “That’s no longer your equipment to take.  You forfeited it all when you got kicked off the team and flunked out of college.”

His razor sharp words leave me wincing but I keep my face free of emotion.  I don’t want him to see just how much his words, his attitude, wound me.  Sometimes it’s difficult to believe that we ever had a close relationship.  I’m his eldest and only daughter who followed him into hockey. He used to be so proud of me, of my accomplishments.  Both on and off the ice.  Miranda and Lexie had hated skating lessons so much that he finally gave up and didn’t even bother trying to get them to play hockey.  I, on the other hand, had loved it right from the very first lesson.  But sometimes I think the reason I’d loved the game so much, at least partly, was because it was something just the two of us shared.  Hockey was the bond between us that neither my mom nor my sisters could penetrate.

Seven o’clock practice on Saturday and Sunday mornings.  Weekend tournaments spent out of town.  College camps and recruiting trips.  And then we’d hit a few classic car shows.  It was always just the two of us.  Me and my dad.

But last year had ripped our relationship to shreds.

And now we were nothing more than strangers.  Actually it was much worse than strangers because his disgust throbbed right beneath the surface of his anger.  And it cut me to the quick.   

My shoulders slump at his words.  “Do you want the equipment back?”

“No, just take it.”  Shoving his hands deep into his pants pockets, he straightens before walking over to the large picture window that looks out at the tree covered backyard.  Right now there’s a thick layer of vibrant leaves carpeting the ground.  “Who’s the guy?”  There is so much accusation riddled throughout those three snapped out words.  “I thought you would have learned your lesson after last year.  Apparently not.”  Without glancing my way, he shakes his head again in disapproval.  “Guess I should have known better than to expect you to pull your shit together.”

Once again his hurtful words leave me reeling as I fight to suck in air.  “It isn’t like that, dad.  Cole is just a friend.” 
Lie.

Cole is way more than a friend.

I can stand here in the kitchen of the house I used to call home and lie to my dad but I can’t lie to myself. 

He jerks towards me, his infuriated gaze searing mine.  “You fail out again and you’re on your own.  We won’t give you any more money and neither will your grandparents.  There comes a time when you have to grow up and make adult decisions and that time is now, Cassidy.”  He drags a hand through his thick black hair in frustration.  “I don’t understand where we went so wrong with you.  I really don’t.”

Why can’t he see that I just made a fucking mistake?

Maybe a lot of them.

But that doesn’t mean they raised me wrong or that I can’t learn and grow from the experience and somehow, eventually, come out better because of it.  But he doesn’t want to consider that possibility.  He doesn’t want to see that I’m trying to undo the damage I inflicted upon all of us.  His anger and disgust stab at me more than I want to admit.  “I’m not going to fail out,” I finally whisper.  There is no way I’ll allow that to happen again.

He scrubs a hand tiredly down his face as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.  “Yeah, well, you’ll excuse me if I have a difficult time believing anything that comes out of your mouth right now.”

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth before biting down on it harshly.  The physical discomfort stops me from focusing on the pain his sharp words are inflicting.

“It’s not like that.  I’m doing really well.”  Why am I even bothering to try and explain?  He’s not going to listen to me.  But I can’t seem to stop myself.  “And I’m tutoring other students at the math center to make extra cash.”  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that Dr. Thompson thinks I’m doing well but he doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing a shrink and I’m not about to confess that to him right now.  It would only fan the flames of his anger.

“I guess we’ll see what your grades look like in December,” he finally mutters.

Feeling deflated and depressed at how poorly this has gone, I finally give up. “I guess so.”  I just want to get the hell out of here.  It’s too painful.  I don’t want to keep standing here, trying to hold some semblance of a civil conversation with him.  I guess neither one of us are ready for that.

Maybe we never will be.

“Okay… well…”  I can’t do this anymore.  I just…
can’t.
  My chest is starting to tighten up as thick tendrils of anxiety weave their way through my body.  Very slowly I start inching my way towards the front door.  Inching towards Cole and his Mustang parked out front.  To the freedom of returning to school and away from the claustrophobia that is suffocating the very life out of me.

Just as I slink my way into the hallway, he asks, “So why did you want your hockey gear?  Are you playing?”  His thick brows are knit tightly together as if he can’t quite believe that I would ever step foot back out onto the ice again.

I shake my head all the while continuing to put more distance between us.  “Cole plays for the Western Timber Wolves and sometimes we skate together.  I just wanted to use my own equipment.  It’s been a while…”  My voice trails off awkwardly and I want to kick myself for even mentioning the last part.

He doesn’t sound impressed.  “Hmmm.”  Thankfully I’ve become pleasantly numb to his disapproval.

Finally I point towards the front door.  “I need to get back to school.  Cole’s waiting for me.”

“Yeah, fine.”  Then he adds with just the right amount of derision to make me cringe, “Thanks for stopping by.”

There is absolutely nothing I can say since we both know I didn’t exactly stop by for a visit. I pretty much did what he accused me of earlier.  I crept into the house when I thought no one would be around.  And I’d been caught.

I should have realized it wouldn’t go smoothly.

“Okay.”  With that last mumbled word, I practically run from the house as if I’m fleeing the scene of a heinous crime.  Slamming out the front door, I barrel down the drive and into the Mustang already idling alongside the curb.

Sinking into the front seat, I suck in a deep breath before slowly pushing it out as Cole immediately pulls away from the house that is no longer my home.  A quick glance over my shoulder shows my dad standing on the front porch, his hands hanging limply by his sides, watching us drive away.  Just as we round a corner, I turn around before leaning back and closing my eyes in relief.

That was so much worse than I could have ever imagined.

So lost in the turmoil of my own thoughts, I actually jump when Cole asks softly, “Are you okay?”

My eyes snap open and I stare sightlessly out the front windshield.  I just can’t bring myself to meet his concerned gaze.  Embarrassment bubbles up like a geyser within me.  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say mechanically. But I’m not fine.  I’m so far from fine that it’s not even funny.  Now that I’m safely away from the situation, my body starts to tremble.  Almost immediately Cole clasps my hand before squeezing it gently with his own.  Only then do I force my gaze to meet his.  Questions, a million of them, swim around within those tawny depths of his.

He deserves answers but I just can’t bring myself to talk about it right now.  It makes me physically sick to think about sharing the intimate details of my fuck up with him.  I don’t want Cole’s opinion of me to change.  He knows, well… he’s getting to know, the girl I am now.  I don’t want him knowing anything about the girl I once was.

“Well, that was awkward,” he finally says as he pulls onto the highway thankfully leaving the small city I grew up in behind us in the rearview mirror.

A strange, strangled laugh fizzes up within me at his quietly muttered words.  I have no idea why they strike me so funny, but they do.  I think it’s either laugh or cry at this point and I refuse to shed one more tear over last year.  “Yeah, it was.  I’m really sorry about that.”

When a few minutes silently creep by and it becomes obvious that I won’t be saying anything more, he finally clears his throat before glancing over at me.  There’s understanding within his concerned eyes but there’s also a desire to figure what I’m keeping from him.  “Are you going to tell me what that was all about?”  His words are light, almost casually spoken as if he knows just how far he can push me.  Which isn’t very far at all.