After a career-ending fight, ex-professional-hockey-player-turned-Zamboni-driver Chase Cassidy has never looked back at the sport. He's perfectly content cleaning the ice between periods and chatting with fellow staff members, and running a pub outs...
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Chase
Rays of sunshine heat my face in the morning. A pillow supports my neck, and a blanket is draped over my body.
I feel disoriented. Sunshine doesn't spill through my bedroom window until the late afternoon. My house also doesn't smell like a breakfast buffet. Space is also limited; I'm usually hogging the bed, with my feet hanging over the edge, as opposed to waking with legs that ache from being bent.
Yawning, I blink a few times and shift my weight to my elbows, scanning the area. As the grogginess fades, I note the blank TV screen, tote bag and its contents, and the forgotten wig. Then I look at the blanket and pillow. Both are soft and coloured a dark mahogany. It's a strike comparison to my grey bedding back home.
Falling asleep wasn't on the docket last night, but by the time midnight rolled around, I was exhausted. Plus, Spencer's parents weren't home yet, and I made her a promise. I hope Spencer didn't do this. She was having a hard enough time managing her runny nose—and her upset stomach. If she trudged down the stairs and catered to me...
Guilt settles in the pit of my stomach. I was supposed to stay awake and help her until her parents got home, even if she was sleeping. Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. That's one strike against my character. Especially when considering it's morning and there's a bunch of commotion in the kitchen. It means someone took care of me after I fell asleep, be it Spencer or her parents.
I can't imagine the thoughts that ran through Tobias' and Miranda's minds when they saw me sleeping on the couch. They probably thought Spencer being in her bed and me being on the couch were for show. Especially if they've been hearing and seeing all Lennon's tactics about us hooking up. Embarrassment makes my cheeks flush.
I need to leave.
Quiet as I can, I stand and arrange the blanket and pillow in a neat pile. Then I look at the tote bag. Everything in there is for Spencer, so I may as well leave it behind. Besides, not touching it will earn me a better chance of sneaking out without being pulled into conversation.
"Chase Cassidy, don't you dare leave without enjoying breakfast. There's coffee on the counter, too."
I look up, instantly feeling like an idiot. I was so caught up in my train of thought I forgot about the open-concept space.
Spencer's mom stands beside the island. Her blonde hair has hints of sliver and cascades down her shoulders, contrasting against the black T-shirt she's wearing. She's sipping her mug of coffee and staring at me with the same look she gives Lennon when he's being an ass. It's so fucking smug it's scary.
I flash her a sheepish smile. "Sorry?"
Miranda gestures to the dishes and cutlery beside her. "Come have some coffee. You look like you need a cup."
I sigh. There's no point in arguing when she's correct. Without my morning coffee, my senses are dull and my head feels fuzzy. Plus, I'm tired from staying up late. I've never been good with late nights and limited sleep. It fucks with my mentality.
