Patrick and Jonathan’s finished basement rec room was nicer than most upscale bars and restaurants she’d ever been to. A wet bar made of teak and polished to within an inch of its life, brass bar rail, expensive track lighting, leather stools and couches, a pool table, dartboard, enormous television; it had everything. Cassie had said many times that she could easily live in Jonathan’s basement.
“Unbelievable.” Cassie just shook her head and chuckled. “Have fun.”
“I intend to.”
***
“It’s okay, Trevor!” Cassie called out in support of her nephew as he skated off the ice. He was quick and wily, his still-scrawny body allowing him to weave between and around opponents. But when they got him, they got him good. Being body checked by a guy twice his size had to hurt, but he looked determined and ticked off as he left the ice. The first period was almost over and Cassie glanced at the clock. 7:28. Apparently, Emerson had decided against coming. Cassie was surprised by the strength of her disappointment. She’d felt the chill. She wasn’t stupid. She’d recognized Emerson’s lack of welcome openness. Being friends wasn’t something she necessarily wanted, and she made it obvious. But Cassie refused to accept that message and leave her alone. There was something about Emerson that just…drew her.
She blew out a frustrated puff of air just as an older guy she knew waved to her from a couple rows down. She waved back, smiled just as somebody plopped into the seat next to her.
“Hey, you.”
Cassie turned to meet smiling hazel eyes that were as familiar to her as her own. “You’re back,” she said with excitement and threw her arms around the man, hugging him tightly. When she let go, she asked, “How’d it go?”
“Fantastic. They hired me.”
Cassie squealed with joy and hugged him again.
Michael Prescott would always look younger than he was. With his slight build, smooth skin, and kindhearted grin, he’d be getting proofed at bars well into his forties. Cassie had known him since the fifth grade. They’d learned to ice skate together. They’d spent summers working the canoe and kayak rental shop when they were teenagers, then waiting tables at various restaurants during college. After college, they’d spent four years as husband and wife. Michael was the best man Cassie had ever known aside from her father, and those were some big shoes to fill. Even after she’d come to realize exactly why she couldn’t relax into their marriage, why something felt wrong, even after she sat him down, told him, and tearfully asked for a divorce, he didn’t hate her. He’d been hurt. Devastated, even. But he never stopped loving her. Their hearts were tied together forever. Even two years later with him remarried, he was still one of her dearest friends.
“You’ll work from here?” she asked him.
“Yep. I’ll have to travel to Manhattan a couple times a year, but I think I can handle that.”
“This is such great news, Michael.” He was a computer genius and specialized in internet security for large corporations. “I’m so proud of you.”
He bumped her with his shoulder, then changed the subject. “Trevor playing?”
“He was, but he got clobbered by a couple of forwards more than once. That boy needs to grow. Soon.”
Michael chuckled. “He will. It’ll happen overnight. Remember me?”
“Oh my god, that’s right.” Cassie reflected back on the summer after their sophomore year in high school. Cassie had gone away for much of the time to visit family in Canada. She was gone for the last month and a half of the summer. When she returned, Michael’s voice had deepened, he seemed to have grown a couple inches in height, and she was certain his shoulders were broader than before. It was bizarre.
“It’ll happen,” he said again.
They chatted absently between cheering. A few moments later, he squeezed her shoulder. “There’s Tina. Gotta run.” He kissed her cheek.
“Tell her I said ‘hi.’”
“Will do.”
“I’m proud of you,” she said again, and he waved over his shoulder as he made his way around to the other side of the arena. It was much too large for a simple high school hockey game, so the majority of the seats were empty. But Lake Henry was also home to several winter sports championships and tournaments, so the rink was big, the ski slopes were plentiful, and there was a bobsled run just three miles out of town.
As she watched Michael leave to meet his wife, the owner of one of the bars caught her eye and waved at her. “Hey, Carl!” She waved back as somebody took the seat next to her for the second time.
“Do you know everybody in this town?”
Surprise washed over Cassie as she looked into the startling blue eyes of Emerson Rosberg. It took her a moment to collect herself, but she did and replied, “Pretty much.”
“Seems like it.” Emerson gazed out onto the empty rink. “Is it halftime?”
Cassie grinned. “Um, no. Hockey doesn’t have halftime.”
“No halftime? What kind of sport is this?”
“Hockey has intermissions. This is first intermission.”
“Did I miss anything good? Is that even possible?”
“I will pretend you didn’t just mock the great sport of hockey and simply say that, sadly, it’s been an uneventful first period.” Cassie studied Emerson. She wore jeans and the same running shoes she’d had on this morning, a long-sleeved white blouse open at the throat, and a navy blue jacket that Cassie thought might have been Caroline’s, as the sleeves were a bit short on her long arms. Her short, blonde hair shone in the arena lighting, and dark mascara accentuated her eyes. Slightly flushed cheeks topped it all off. She was beautiful. Stunningly so. Cassie thought so immediately, and she had to consciously pull her eyes away from the teasing peek of collarbone inside the shirt. And sexy. Don’t forget sexy.
Catching her gaze, Emerson said, “You didn’t think I was coming, did you?”
“You weren’t, were you?”
“No.” They both laughed. “I have a lot to do. I’ve been working on it and…I just needed a change of scenery.”
“This is a pretty big change,” Cassie remarked as the timer sounded and the kids skated back onto the ice.
“So, round black thing into the goal, yes?”
Cassie laughed. “The puck. Yes.”
“Got it.”
They watched for several minutes as the boys skated around the rink, passing to each other, taking shots on goal, and slamming one another into the boards.
Finally, Emerson commented, “This is kind of rough.”
“Not for the faint of heart, that’s for sure.”
“You know these kids?”
“Some of them. And my nephew plays, but he’s riding the bench right now.”
“Bummer.”
“It’s okay. He’s young. He’s learning.”
One player crushed another into the Plexiglas close to their seats and Emerson winced. “Okay, that can’t be legal.”
“Actually, that was a clean hit,” Cassie told her. “He had the puck. You can’t just hit a guy who doesn’t, though.”
Emerson suddenly sat up straighter and looked at Cassie. “Didn’t you say you coach girls’ hockey?”
“I did. Assistant coach.”
“Are they this brutal with each other?”
“They’re worse.” At Emerson’s shocked expression, she laughed. “Believe me. It’s true. Girls are much meaner. These boys generally want to hit each other. The girls? They want to kill each other.”
Emerson gave it some thought, nodded. “Yeah, I can see that.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Emerson asking an occasional questions, Cassie explaining as best she could, and soon the buzzer sounded the beginning of second intermission.
“So, tell me about the bike,” Cassie said, turning slightly and giving Emerson her full attention.
“I went to Wheels. I hope that’s the place you were talking about because it’s the only bike shop I could find, and Mindy knew you.”
Cassie smiled. “That’s the place. Mindy’s awesome.”
“She was. She fit me for a bike, let me rent it on a day-to-day basis. I hopped on and rode for more than ten miles. It felt great.”
“I’m so glad.” And she was. Something about Emerson’s demeanor was a bit different, and she said so. “You seem much more relaxed. Not that I know you well,” Cassie rushed to add, laying a hand on Emerson’s thigh. Realizing it, she snatched it way as if she’d been burned and rushed to keep talking. “But, you just seem…I don’t know. Easier.”
Emerson looked at her for a long time, until Cassie began to worry that she’d gone too far, was too touchy, had gotten too personal. “Biking helped a lot.”
“Are you making any progress on your mom’s stuff?”
Emerson rolled her lips in, grimaced. “Do you think we can talk about something else?”
Cassie blinked. “Oh. Sure. Of course.” Interrupting her apology, a girl’s voice called out.
“Cassie!”
Before she could say a word, ten-year-old Grace Turner flew at Cassie and wrapped her arms around her. Cassie swallowed down her shock and hugged the girl back. “Hey there, Gracie.”
“I saw you from way over there,” Grace said, helping herself to a seat on Cassie’s lap, despite being a bit too big to do so, as she pointed at a faraway entrance. Her face was wide with a smile, showing overlapping teeth that were going to cost her parents several thousand in braces soon.
She no sooner thought of Grace’s parents then her mother, Vanessa, appeared, looking just as uncomfortable as she usually did lately, and even more so when her eyes stopped on Emerson. “Hi,” she said and forced a smile that came and went in a blink.
“Hey.” There was an awkward beat, then Cassie continued, asking about Vanessa’s nephew. “Here to watch Kyle?”
Vanessa nodded.
“He looks good so far.”
Clearing her throat, Emerson stood up and held out a hand to Vanessa. “Hi there. I’m Emerson Rosberg.”
“I know who you are,” Vanessa said, before quickly catching herself, forcing another smile and taking Emerson’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“God.” Cassie shook her head. “I’m so sorry. Where are my manners? Emerson, this is my…friend, Vanessa Turner. And this,” she tickled Grace’s ribcage and was rewarded with giggles, “Is Grace-face.”
Emerson gave a nod and a smile.
The crowd cheered suddenly, and the four of them looked toward the rink to see what had transpired. A near-goal, apparently. After a moment, Vanessa held her hand out to her daughter. Cassie stared at it, at the pale skin, the neatly manicured nails, the wedding ring. She swallowed hard.
“Come on, Grace. Daddy’s waiting for us.”
“Aww. I want to sit with Cassie.” Grace wiggled her bony butt on Cassie’s lap as if digging in.
Cassie bounced her knees a couple times and said quietly to Grace, “Be a good girl, and do what Mommy says. Okay?”
Grace sighed dramatically and took her time sliding to the ground. “Fine.” She held out her hand, and Vanessa grasped it.
“It was nice to meet you, Emerson,” Vanessa said.
“Same here,” Emerson replied as they watched the two walk away. After a moment, Emerson said, “Wow. That wasn’t awkward at all.”
Cassie sighed, shook her head with a grimace.
“What was that about?”
Cassie looked down at her hands in her lap and tried not to let the nausea take over. She inhaled slowly, swallowed, let it out. When she looked up at Emerson, she hoped the wetness in her eyes wasn’t glaringly obvious as she tossed Emerson’s words back at her. “Do you think we can talk about something else?”
Emerson held her gaze, and her expression softened. “Sure.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Vanessa Turner was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed and irritated and fed up. And nervous. A little nervous.
“Stop pushing me, Jeremy.” Vanessa’s daughter was learning to stand up to her big brother when he got all alpha male on her, not that it did any good. Jeremy still bumped Grace out of the way and went into The Sports Outfitter ahead of her, muttering an unflattering name at her under his breath.
“Hey.” Vanessa swatted the back of his head, not hard, just enough to get his attention. “Don’t talk to your sister like that or we will turn around and go home, and you can keep wearing sneakers that don’t fit. Understand?”
“Whatever.” He took a left in the store and headed towards the shoe section.
That was the most dialogue she had with him on an average day, and she sighed now in frustration. Jeremy was thirteen. He’d be fourteen in a couple months. He was already the epitome of a teenager: sullen, brooding, bored with everything except his iPhone (which she could kill Brian for getting him), and his video games. He did all right in school, thank god, but there were another four or five years of this to come. This was only the beginning. Vanessa didn’t know how she would survive.
The store was busy. That was good. More people meant less focus on her. Maybe they could get the kids sneakers and get out before—
“Cassie!” Gracie ran from Vanessa straight down an aisle, slickly dodging several customers in her path, and threw her little arms around Cassie’s hips.
Okay. Jumping in with both feet, I guess. Vanessa slowly followed the same path her daughter had taken.
“Hey there, Grace-face. Two times in one week I get to see you?” Cassie squatted down so she was eye level with Gracie, something Vanessa always found endearing. “What’s new?”
“Hopefully, some sneakers,” Grace said looking around. “Where’s Gordie?”
“He’s downstairs helping my mom.”
Gracie turned her big blue eyes in Vanessa’s direction. “Can I go down and see him, Mom? Can I? Please?”
Vanessa had a hard time denying her daughter anything (which was going to be a problem down the road, or so her sister kept telling her), especially when she remembered to say please. “You are not to bother Mrs. Parker.” As Gracie skittered away, Vanessa added, “I mean it!”
And then they were alone.
Not alone, obviously, as the store was full of people. But it felt like they were alone. Cassie’s big brown eyes caught hers, then darted away. “How are you?” she asked.
Vanessa cleared her throat. “I’m okay. I’m good. How about you? How are you?”
Cassie nodded, her voice low. “I’m good.”
“You look great.” It was true. Cassie rarely dressed up, but she didn’t have to. Her beauty was natural. Athletic. She wore olive green cargo pants and a black quarter-zip pullover. Black always made her look so attractively mysterious, made her dark eyes even darker.
“You, too.”
The awkwardness stretched.
“Good game the other night,” she said.
“It was.”
Vanessa looked around for something else to say. “Busy today. That’s good.” She swallowed hard, the same word flashing through her head over and over: Lame. Lame. Lame. Why did conversation have to suddenly be so hard? She and Cassie could talk about anything and everything. Had talked about anything and everything.
“Yeah. It’s busy season.”
Cassie looked down at her hands, then up at the store. Vanessa looked down at Cassie’s hands, and her gaze stayed there as memories flooded her brain, memories of those same hands holding her face, tangled in her hair, kneading her breasts, those fingers sliding through her wetness and right into her body, her muscles contracting, trying to hold them there forever…
When she looked up again, Cassie was watching her, the expression on her face a mix of anger, hurt, and longing. There were so many things Vanessa wanted to say at that moment. I’m sorry. Forgive me. I love you. And she wondered about Emerson Rosberg. Were they seeing each other now? She wanted so badly to know, to ask. Instead, she remained silent.
“Excuse me.” A woman of about fifty approached Cassie with a que
stion, and Vanessa bowed out politely to let Cassie work, simultaneously annoyed with the woman for interrupting and relieved to be released from the painful awkwardness.
Now if she could only ditch her kids so she could go out to the car and sob her eyes out, her day would be complete. As it was, she’d managed to completely avoid seeing Cassie for nearly three weeks, yet she’d still cried at least once every single day. And then she’d seen her at the rink Tuesday. Her and the Rosberg woman, smiling, their heads close together. It had been inevitable that she’d run into Cassie eventually. It was a small town. But seeing her with somebody else…
Her stomach churned.
Vanessa wandered to the shoe section where Jeremy was absorbed in texting on his phone rather than looking at sneakers, and she just did not have the energy to fight him. She felt like a deflated balloon, and she was on the verge of tears. Detouring away from Jeremy, she wandered toward the women’s clothing and tried to focus on the racks for a few moments hoping to collect herself.
Brian was worried about her. They’d been married for fourteen years; he knew her, and he knew when something was wrong. She’d lost weight. She wasn’t eating. Her sleep was restless. She seemed far away and sad all the time. These were things he’d noticed, things he’d brought up. He wondered what he could do to help. Worse, he worried that he had done something, that she was upset with him, that he had somehow caused this depression she seemed to be in, this funk. He brought her flowers. He made dinner for her and the kids when he was home before her. He’d made a conscious effort to pick his dirty laundry up off the floor around the hamper and actually put it in the hamper. He was trying so hard.
He had no idea.
The guilt was crushing her.
It was a good thing, then, that Cassie had ended things with her. She’d had to, she said. She didn’t want to. She’d had to. There was no choice any more. She said she couldn’t go on sneaking around, pretending not to be who she really was. She wanted Vanessa to leave Brian so they could be together, and there were times Vanessa thought it might be the path to take. Cassie had left Mike. More than two years ago. It hadn’t been easy. She’d been the talk of the town for a while, though nobody really knew the details. Mike was a great guy. He’d understood. He’d known Cassie since they were kids, they’d been married for four years, and he understood. She was gay. Simple. It wasn’t about him. It was about her. He’d gotten through it. He’d remarried recently. He and Cassie were still good friends.
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