That Was Then: A Second Chance Romance (Fated Loves Book 2)

by Zee Irwin

  He didn’t see me. Yet. Kill me now, Fate, please. My heart dropped out of my skin. I’d hyperventilate if I didn’t sit down soon.

  “Well, who do we have here?” The first guy we ran into as we made our way into the bar came up to Hank and slapped him on the back while giving me a thorough exam with his eyes. He looked familiar, and then I almost jumped because I knew this guy. Tony Amato once played with Bronson, as in the former roommate and best friend to Bronson. But he must not have recognized me at first. Thank you, blonde hair.

  Hank introduced us. “Hey cousin, this is Ca—”

  I cut him off with a fake sweet voice and blurted out, “Hanky, honey, let’s go over to this corner booth. And sit close to me, okay?” I grabbed Hank, ran my hand up from his belt buckle to his chest while letting my leg draw up his leg a bit. His eyes widened like a kid in a toy store. I played it up, causing enough of a distraction, it cut off any further conversation.

  I yanked him away from Tony and over to an empty booth. Scooting in toward the wall, I pulled him in next to me. Hank took my coat, all smiles once again looking over my body. Why did I decide to wear this tight black dress?

  “I could tell we impressed my cousin Tony.” He shook his head. “I recently transferred back here from Florida, so I’m the new guy on the team. They give me a lot of grief and don’t think I can ask out a hot girl on a date. But look at me now, guess I showed them.”

  “Um, technically, Hank, I asked you out tonight.” I took a moment, admiring his looks. His dark hair sported a tighter cut than I usually cared for, but I could tell if he grew it out a bit more, it might be curly and pleasant to the touch. He had looks, in a boy-next-door or all-American baseball guy kind of way. No match for the gorgeousness of Bronson. And why did I compare them right now? Bronson was the past. Hank was, for the moment, the present but probably not the future, except maybe in a friend-only way.

  Hank dropped his head, and his shoulders slumped. “Damn, I totally forgot you asked me out. Technically, I asked you to text me for a hookup. And you did text me. Listen, can you please do me a favor?” He turned his head and swept the bar with his eyes before turning back to me. He continued in a low voice. “Can you pretend I asked you out if anyone asks? The guys on the team have this kind of initiation for the new players. So when I saw you tonight at the chicken party, looking so fine, I took a chance and asked you out.”

  I recalled the ritual, which started from Bronson’s no dating rule during his senior year. He had major goals and records to smash, so he swore off dating and girlfriends to focus. Until he met me. But his friend Tony took the idea and turned team initiation into a dare. He convinced girls on campus to ignore all the new players. No dating and no sex allowed, like they were outcasts from campus party life. Then, to avoid a first season of loneliness, all the new teammates had to do was ask a hot, older woman out and provide proof from the date. College pranks and dares were the worst kind of stupidity.

  Wait. Was I the hot, older woman? I wanted to die right in this booth.

  I felt bad for Hank, but there was no way I’d be his hot, older woman, even if I was one. He looked desperate. Maybe like Aggie needed a makeover, I could work wonders with making over this young stud into a decent, dateable guy. With a little coaching, he could be a sweetheart and find someone to date for real, even a hot, older someone. But not me.

  I suddenly made it official; I added Hank as project number two on my list for the new year. First Aggie, now Hank. My new year would be busy. Exactly the way I liked it. Too busy to think about Bronson and our past.

  I peered over the wall of the booth and found myself directly in Bronson’s line of sight. Tony had reached his side, saying something into his ear, and pointing my way. Neither of them looked pleased. Bronson scowled down at me from the balcony.

  I shrunk down and leaned more into Hank. “Listen, don’t get so caught up in this stupid team initiation, okay?”

  Hank smiled with enough of a confidence boost to rest his arm along the back of the booth behind me. His fingertips rubbed my shoulder. Oh boy.

  I continued with my coaching. “And take it easy on the hookups, all right? Most girls don’t go for that.”

  He glanced down at me with a smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows. “You did.”

  I shook my head. “No, I didn’t. Honestly, I wanted to go out tonight and forget my ex. You came along at the right time.”

  His soft brown eyes looked at me like he’d follow me anywhere, like a loyal dog. With a nose that appeared a tad crooked, I was neither charmed nor distracted by it.

  “Are you saying I’m only here for convenience?” He shrugged. “I’m cool with it. I’ll take whatever I can get. Hey, you feel like dancing?”

  I wanted to stay hidden in the booth, away from Bronson’s scrutiny. And I knew Tony and the teammates were watching Hank. And damn if my defiant streak against Fate didn’t come rushing back. “Yes. Fuck them all, Hank. Let’s dance.”

  He pulled me out of the booth and led me to the dance floor a second later. While I felt the heavy weight of Bronson’s stare into my back without having to look up at the balcony, I danced my ass off to spite him.

  8

  Night With Hank Part Two

  Bronson

  When Tony told me he was sure he had seen Cassidy on the arm of his cousin, my fists balled up. I didn’t understand the reflex. Maybe they balled up thinking about the accident five years prior. It tore ligaments and shattered bones in my hand, ruining my baseball career in the big leagues before it even started. Ever since then, anytime I thought of the initial pain I endured as soon as I awoke in the hospital the next day, it made my hand twitch. But this was more than a twitch. I balled my fists tight, as if readying for a prize fight.

  I craned my neck and narrowed my gaze toward the booth. I could make out the top of Cassidy’s blonde hair, then I saw Hank’s arm lift over and rest across her back. The view sent my breathing into another atmosphere. It shouldn’t. I only desired some closure between us, so she and I could both move on with our lives.

  My feet moved as if my eyes commanded, Hey, move closer. Get a better look. I found myself on the stairs but then froze to the spot. Hank ushered Cassidy onto the dance floor. My heart palpitated, and my fists jammed into my jean pockets. My body, suddenly at war with my brain, betrayed any common sense. I didn’t want Tony’s snotty little cousin getting his hands on my ex. Fuck, why was being in the same pub with Cassidy having this effect on me?

  Trapped between my memories with Cassidy and the scene playing out on the dance floor before me, my eyes took in every detail of Cassidy’s movements. Her body swayed to the deep bass beats while she zeroed in on something Hank said, which sent her head back in laughter. The sound of it lilted up to my ears like it had its own rhythm, luring me by the sweetness of her song. She rolled her head, exposing her creamy neck. My lips twitched as I recalled the countless hours of kissing and sucking on her neck.

  I memorized this alternative version of her. She danced without a care in the world. Her moves were even more sensual now, with a womanly, curvy body where once a junior sorority girl had been. She exchanged her red sweater dress from the office for a tight little black dress with a low-cut neckline, which irritated the hell out of me. It was too revealing for anyone’s eyes except mine.

  I hissed when she spun around on sexy red high heels. How and when did my sweet, former girlfriend learn to walk and dance on those? She was beautiful before, but unaware of her looks. This woman in front of me danced fully aware of what to do with her body to make any man drool.

  I realized, for the first time, when I thought of Cassidy, it was my version of her. My ex-girlfriend from college frozen in time in my memory. She wasn’t this sexy woman dancing in front of me. Time had changed everything for me so much, but I’d never considered it might also have changed her. If I’d met Cassidy for the first time tonight, I’d be lying if I said she didn’t attract me. But we had history and fuck, it made wa
tching her dance even more impossible. My lungs almost gave out after holding in the air as if drowning in deep waters.

  My mind reminded me I needed closure. That’s all I needed from her. I didn’t need those curvaceous hips swaying, or those full lips twisting up, or those eyes mooning like they were on Hank right now. I watched as the kid—because he forever would be the little cousin who Tony and I picked on mercilessly—put his hands on her waist, drawing her closer to him.

  When she parted her legs and let his leg grind between her thighs, the last hold my mind had on my sanity left. It should be my leg there. And my hands on her ass, not his.

  Before I could comprehend what was happening, my body took action, leaping over the stairwell railing and landing squarely on the dance floor. I pounced on Hank from behind.

  “Show’s over!” I yelled and spun him around by the shoulder. I took a power swing at his nose with my old pitching hand. Fuck, that would hurt like hell in the morning, but watching Hank slump backward onto the dance floor made it worth it.

  “What the hell, Bronson?” Cassidy pushed me away with such a force, it caught me off guard. Her hands against my chest for only a brief second resonated on my skin, branding me like a burn mark. They might’ve seared my shirt onto my skin. I wanted more burning.

  “Come on. I don’t believe for a moment you’re into this guy?”

  She leaned down to Hank’s side. “Hank, sweetie? Stay with me.” She tapped his cheeks.

  Shit. I punched him harder than I intended. Then Tony appeared next to me with his arms crossed, watching the blood ooze out of his cousin’s nose.

  “Jeez, Bron. Ma’s going to throw a fit. That’s twice now.”

  Yep. The first time I broke Hank’s nose resulted from a foul ball during a backyard game when we were little kids from the block.

  Hank came to, a little dazed, and squinted at me. “Hey, Bron. Is that you? Nice to see you back in town. Have you met my hot date?” His eyes fell back into his head.

  “Okay, buddy.” I leaned down to pick him up, grabbing one arm and putting it around my shoulders while Tony ducked in under his other arm. “Let’s go to the hospital and get you checked out.” I glanced back, making sure Cassidy followed while we stumbled with him out of the pub. “I parked my car across the street.”

  “I can’t go to the hospital. I have to hook up with Cass,” Hank sputtered.

  Seriously? I shot a glare over my shoulder at Cassidy. “A hookup? Is that so? Did I interrupt a special night between you two?”

  She shot me the same irritated glare back. “In case you forgot, we’re exes. It means you don’t have a right to know what I do in my love life.”

  “I love you,” Hank spurted out between the blood dripping past his lips, his eyes still glazed over.

  I fought back a maniacal laugh. “Wow, from a hookup to love in one night. Nice to know what your standards have become after dating me, Cassidy. Especially since I recall it took me some time to get past first base with you.”

  I sensed her seething. A retort readied on her lips when we reached my car, but Hank suddenly realized the situation. He shifted his gaze from me to her and back to me again.

  “Exes? Dating? Ho. Lee. Shit. Cassidy? Bronson? You’re Bronson’s Cassidy?”

  “No, I’m nobody’s Cassidy.” She huffed off to the back of the car and took out her phone.

  It took a few minutes for us to get a less dazed but now hysterical Hank into the car. We tried to subdue his fears about his nose, and I promised to pay for plastic surgery once he healed, if needed. Tony got in the back, and I opened the passenger door for Cassidy.

  “You coming?”

  “No. I think you and Tony can handle this mess you’ve made. I called an Uber.” She walked to the open door and waved at Hank in the back. “Bye. I’m sorry about all of this. I hope you’ll be okay.”

  Hank gave her a huge, bloody smile. “Oh, I’m better than okay. My initiation is complete because from now on, I’m the guy who took Bronson’s hot ex out on a date.”

  She nodded and chuckled. “Great. I’m so glad I could help.”

  I shut the car door. “You sure you won’t come with us? I could drive you home after?”

  She cocked her head at me. “Sitting in a hospital all night with my ex-boyfriend, my date, and his cousin? Tempting, but no thank you.”

  “Cassidy, come on. We still need to talk.” I sent her my best pleading eyes.

  The resignation of her shoulders slumping along with the rolling of her eyes and the exhale of her breath told me she gave in. “Okay, fine. We’ll talk. After Christmas. I’ll be at my parents’ place all weekend. You can reach me there.”

  Tony pounded on the window. “Let’s get going.” He didn’t stop me from watching as Cassidy walked away. My hand scrubbed through my hair as if waking up my brain because I needed to figure out what the hell happened and why it happened, fast.

  When I looked at her, it seemed like five years were missing from my life, like I had amnesia or had time traveled from then to now. Like a blank space, I suddenly needed it filled by knowing what she had been through this whole time. It would be agony waiting until after Christmas to speak with her again.

  Tony slugged my shoulder as I got in the car and drove off. “You all right there, buddy?”

  Fuck no. “Sure.”

  “Damn, Cass has turned into one fine piece of ass.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Hank and I both admonished Tony at the same time.

  I scowled in the rear-view mirror at Hank, and he did his best scowling back even with a bloody, bruised, and swollen nose. My hands gripped the wheel tight. Both of the assholes in the back seat had better realize the only one in this car allowed any thoughts about Cassidy Masters was me.

  I took stock of the situation. This morning, all was fine, back in America, taking over as CEO of the company. But my life flipped upside down seeing Cassidy tonight.

  So many times over the years, I thought if I had the chance with her again, I’d say all the things I should have after the accident and the way we broke up. I didn’t know about her, but I’d been through enough therapy to understand I never got closure. And now, seeing her tonight, closure was the last thing on my mind.

  9

  A Cozy Christmas

  Cassidy

  The smells of Christmas brunch heated in the kitchen, the taste of eggnog on our breaths, and all of us in matching flannel jammies—I enjoyed all the comforts of our Christmas day family traditions.

  Mom handed me a long, slender box and kissed me on the cheek. “For you, dear.”

  The other gifts were all opened, fawned over, and tried on. Dad sat back and teased me and my sisters while Mom memorialized all the joy and laughter through the lens of her old camera.

  I took my time unwrapping the final present, letting the shiny red paper fall away, and then opened the lid enough to peek. “Oh! A ring light setup?” I looked at my mom, confused how she would even know what a ring light was.

  “Yes dear, Bella told us your telegram—no, what’s it called again?”

  “Instagram, Mom!” Bella shook her head with all the attitude her new silver hair provided. I didn’t know her reason behind going through a silvery-gray hair phase, but whatever. I suppose it matched the little rebel in her because growing up the middle sister between Emily and I couldn’t have been easy. I had more in common with Emily, sharing makeup and fashion interests plus a little extroversion, whereas Bella kept to herself, all moody and cool in her own little corner of the world.

  “Yes. You have 25,000 people following you? Is it safe? I hope none of them are creeps and weirdos. Anyway, the ring light provides better lighting for your videos, but I think you look pretty the way you are in any light.” Mom’s face moved from worry to admiration.

  Dad took out the parts from the box and started putting it together. As a well-trained father to the four women in the house, if something needed to be built on Christmas Day, he tackled it rig
ht away, usually completing everything by the time the food was ready.

  He donned his reading glasses and gave his typical brief examination of the instructions, then tossed them away with all the confidence of a man who knew his way around tools. “Cass, run to my desk and get the mini screwdriver set.”

  I knew exactly where it would be, even if I hadn’t been in his office in a while. My eyes skimmed over the desktop, settling on photos in frames taking up the corner, and I stopped at a photo I hadn’t seen in a long time. The shot of Bronson didn’t phase me at first. Dad loved Bronson like a son. I had been so proud of both of them, the way my dad had taken Bronson under his wing, taught him about cars, and probably more. Who knew what they talked about during hours spent in Dad’s man cave garage?

  I had taken the photo of him and Bronson in front of the old Mustang the day they got it working. The memory of the moment burned into me like a photographic exposure permanently rendered onto paper. They had been so proud of their work together, and the photo captured the moment beautifully.

  I remembered the warm spring day at the end of May, the end of Bronson’s college baseball career, the Mustang ready for driving at long last, and Bronson’s team MVP party later that night. We drove the Mustang convertible to the party, not knowing it would turn out to be the beginning of the end for us.

  Numbness and the unbearable feeling of nothing were what I usually felt when stumbling across photos of Bronson over the past few years. I had barred the feelings from existence when he walked away from me. But today, an unexpected lump formed in my throat and heat ran up to my eyes, burning as if I had taken a fast swig of vodka. Why was I having this reaction now—because Bronson acted like a jealous ex-boyfriend at the Ball Bar?