“Only because he caught me off guard. I really don’t want to go,” I practically whine at her.
“So don’t go,” she says in a bored tone. “It’s not like you’d have a good time… you know… what with you pining over Zane.”
“What?” I practically shriek into the phone. “What do you mean ‘pining over Zane’? I most certainly am not pining.”
“Oh, please, you little brat,” she says with a maniacal laugh. “Do you know how much you’ve been talking about him since you came back to Dublin? I’ve had the rundown on every single email that you’ve exchanged with him, and you don’t even tell me the good stuff. You haven’t provided one single, juicy detail of the sex you two had. Instead, I have to listen to you gush about how funny he is, and how interested he is in your life and your studies, and for fuck’s sake, Cady… you even tell me what he eats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
My mouth opens to deny everything she says, but I know it’s true. I also know Teagan’s been humoring me when I prattle on and on about Zane. She’s humoring me because she’s never seen me this interested in a man before, and she doesn’t want to rain on my parade.
But I don’t need her to rain on it.
I’ve put away my metaphorical umbrella and have let the showers pour down on me, laying heavy like a wet blanket of frustration that Zane and I will never really have anything more than a friendship, solely due to the fact that we live so far apart from each other.
Chapter 6
Zane
I read Cady’s email twice, the second time feeling angrier than the first. She’s seriously not going to come visit me and, worse yet, she’s going out on a date with someone.
My insides twist with disappointment because I honestly thought she wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see her.
Apparently not.
To: Cady Dunne
From: Zane Kavanaugh
Subject: Don’t Speak In Riddles
Date: September 16, 2014
What’s going on here, Cady? I don’t buy the excuse about school interfering, because you and I have emailed so much over the last few weeks that I am well versed on your schedule. I know that you have classes on Monday and Wednesday. I know that your professor for your Psychometrics class spits when he talks, so no one will sit in the front row. I know your professor for your Counseling and Theory Practice class is from Taiwan and while you believe she’s brilliant, you can’t be absolutely sure because you can only understand about fifty-percent of what she’s saying. I know that a study you read about children with learning disabilities and the hard road they have before them in the school system made you cry one night, so you immediately put in your favorite funny movie, Happy Gilmore, to cheer you up. I know a ton about you and your schooling.
I also know you have a study group on Thursday. I know your study group meets first thing in the morning on Thursday and you are done by ten AM. I also know that you haven’t missed a class yet, and I’m sure you could forego one set of classes on a Monday. So, by my reasoning, you could fly out Thursday and come back on Monday. We’d have three days together. If you absolutely must make your classes on Monday, then go back on Sunday. Two days together are better than none.
So what do you say?
Zane
I don’t even read back over my words before clicking the send button, knowing that they came from a place of anger and honesty, and that I wasn’t holding any of my feelings back.
Pushing back from my desk that sits against the east wall of my living room, I head into the kitchen to grab an apple for a snack. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I note that I have a few hours yet before I have to head to the gym for my workout. Training camp starts in two days, and I’m starting to get the itch to get back on the ice. My summer vacation has been amazing, the highlight of course being Cady’s visit, followed closely by my visit back home to see my family.
But in a few days… shit was going to get real. In a few weeks, the regular season would be starting, and then my mind would be immersed in hockey.
And probably Cady, I admit grudgingly to myself, but then let it go. That all depended on how she responds to my last email.
Heading back into my living room, I take a big bite of my apple, but even the crunch of tart goodness doesn’t mask the sound of my laptop chiming to indicate an email has arrived.
I email quite a bit… routinely with my mom, several friends from high school, other teammates, Coyote management. But yet, the possibility it could be from Cady has me practically running to check my inbox.
And yeah… she responded, and by the subject line change she made, I’m immediately sure I won’t be happy by her response.
I set my apple down on the table, clicking on her email.
To: Zane Kavanaugh
From: Cady Dunne
Subject: How’s This For Clear?
Date: September 16, 2014
I’m sorry if I was being vague. It’s sort of hard to write your feelings sometimes. Sure… I could make a visit work with my schedule, and sure, I could pull some money from savings to make the trip, but when it boils right down to it… I’m not the booty-call type. Yes, I engaged in a one-night stand with you, but I think you’ve come to know me well enough the last few weeks to know that’s generally not my style. Coming for a quick visit just to spend time with you in the sack certainly appeals to my libido, but my heart is having a hard time reconciling that. It’s just not me.