Coming Up for Air (cole caufield x oc)

BONUS CHAPTER 6

∆ Tate ∆

By the time Tate had dropped Freya off at her house, it was nearly eleven in the morning. It was all Freya had wanted, she said—to go home so she could be with her mom and brother. So Tate didn't hesitate to rent a car, gather their things from their original hotel, and drive Freya the hour and a half back to Jacksonville. Riley had gone to be with Jess, which left Tate on her own.

She'd been bickering with Nick and Cole over text—she still wasn't convinced they hadn't known all along that Kirby Dach was screwing Jess over—but she couldn't deny that they cared. All of it still left her exhausted.

With nowhere else to go, Tate drove to the one place she hoped might make her feel the tiniest bit better—her home. She lived in the neighborhood down the road from Freya; her parents had never moved out of their three-bedroom cottage that she and her brother had grown up in. By then, Tanner had been dead for nearly ten years, though the pain hadn't lessened.

As expected, Tate's father was on the front porch, sipping a coffee as he rocked in one of the old rocking chairs he'd painted a lifetime ago. When he saw Tate step out of her car, though, he bounded to his feet to greet her in the driveway with a hug.

"Oh my god," he shouted, squeezing her tight. "What are you doing here?"

Tate had neglected to tell her parents she was coming back to Florida with Jess—sometimes it was too painful to see them. Often, seeing them just reminded her that she'd left them alone for another country with no children to visit or take care of, even in their adulthood.

"My friend from Montreal had to come down for work," she explained, struggling to breathe inside his embrace. "I thought I would come down, too."

It was all she had the energy to explain. Fortunately, it was more than enough for her father, who finally released her, only to grab her hand. "Come on, come on—your mom is going to be so excited to see you."

Tate didn't doubt it. While she had always felt closer to her dad, her mother was an incredible woman. As a treasured doctor at the Mayo Clinic, Marianne O'Connor was the breadwinner of the family—a fact that Tate's father apparently conceded even when they got married: instead of insisting Marianne take his last name, he had taken hers. As such, they were the O'Connor family, and no one ever asked any questions.

Sure enough, Tate's mother let out a screech when she saw her daughter come in through the front door. She had been preparing cookie dough on a baking sheet, but dropped a glob onto the floor as she sprinted to wrap her arms around her daughter.

"Hi Momma," Tate breathed, basking in the comforting scent of her childhood home.

"Look at you," her mom marveled, stepping back to run her gaze up and down Tate. "So beautiful, always."

"Ma," Tate groaned as her mother planted a loud kiss on her cheek. She sighed, "Don't get too excited—I can't stay long."

Her father placed a glass of water on the table, which Tate drank gratefully. "No," he grumbled, "why not?"

Awkwardly, Tate set the glass down and cleared her throat. "I'm—uh—going to Tampa for a hockey game."

Tate's parents, die-hard Lightning fans, stared at her wide-eyed, confounded. "What?" her mom snapped. "Now you like hockey?" She placed her hands on her hips and demanded, "We spent years trying to make you a hockey fan—you said it was stupid."

"We could only ever drag your brother to games," her father chimed in.

At the mention of Tanner, Tate's heart fell a little. She tried not to let it show. "I know, I know," she hurried. "I made a friend on one of the teams, and he invited me, so I'm gonna go."

Any shock in her parents was now replaced by intrigue. "Oh?" her mother cooed. "A friend?"

"What kind of friend?" her dad pressed, a grin tugging at the edges of his lips.

"Just a friend!" Tate exclaimed. "I hardly even know him, okay? Come on, guys, don't do this. Don't make it weird."

Her mother raised her arms in surrender, returning to her work on the cookies. Tate's dad, though, was never one to give up on anything—just ask the crosswords in the newspapers that he would spend days working on before ever admitting defeat. "What's your friend's name?" he interrogated. "Can we meet him?"

"No and no," Tate answered quickly as she took another sip of water. "I'm telling y'all—it's nothing."

------

𝙹𝚘𝚜𝚑

It didn't take more than a second to find Tate in the crowd at Amalie arena. She got there early enough that the place wasn't terribly crowded—but even if she'd shown up in the middle of the game, Josh would've noticed her: she glowed so effortlessly no matter where she was or what she was doing.

When he caught her eye several rows back from the glass, she lifted her hand in a little wave. Josh must've looked like an idiot when he grinned and waved back, a blithering, down-bad idiot. Somehow, he couldn't have cared less. He just couldn't believe Tate was there, watching him. Hell, Josh never even talked to girls. But he couldn't help stealing glances at her all through warm-ups. 

Once the team had headed down the tunnel for their last pre-game preparations, the first thing Josh did was grab his phone from his cubby. There was a text waiting for him.

Messages

Conversation with T O'Connor

T
i wore the one red thing i could
find at my parents' house
(it is a pair of socks)

Josh
haha that's good enough for
me :)

T
they were very jealous that i'm watching
the lightning play tonight! their fave
team

Josh
tell your parents im very sorry that
i hope their team loses tonight

T
don't worry, i hope their team
loses too :)
good luck out there norris! all else
fails, at least you look hot in your gear

-------

Instinctively, Josh removed his helmet and ran a hand through his hair. With a sigh, he returned his phone to its place on the shelf.

This was going to be the best fucking game of his life.