OFFSIDE HEARTS

JUST A BAD DECISION

Cassie point of view

The buzz of the tattoo needle was a comforting sound steady and sharp, like a promise I could control something. I leaned into my work, my gloved hands sure as I filled in the crimson petals of a rose curling around my client Toni’s forearm. The hum of the machine filled the shop like white noise, blocking out everything else the whispered gossip behind my back, the texts I ignored from Liv, and most of all, the memory of Logan’s mouth on my neck a couple night ago.

“Looking good, Cass,” Toni said with a wince. “Hurts like hell, but it’s worth it.”

“Beauty’s pain, right?” I said, my voice neutral.

Toni grinned but didn’t miss a beat. “So. Cassie Monroe. Back in Clearwater Ridge. I mean, hell must’ve frozen.”

I rolled my eyes, keeping my gaze on the shading around the rose’s edge. “Don’t start.”

“Come on. I’m not asking for a memoir. Just curious what brings you back after... how long’s it been? Five years? Six?”

“Five,” I said flatly.

Toni leaned her head back on the leather rest. “Right. And you just woke up one day and thought, ‘You know what I miss? Mosquitoes and small-town drama.’”

I smirked, despite myself. “More like I missed the smell of motor oil and people asking me personal questions while I’m holding a needle to their skin.”

She laughed, but didn’t stop. “I’m just saying, people are talking.”

“Of course they are,” I muttered.

Toni raised a brow. “You know how it goes. You leave fast, you come back faster, and suddenly everyone’s playing connect-the-dots. And that night at The Rusty Anchor? You and Logan looking like a damn deleted scene from a soap opera.”

My hand paused briefly before I refocused. “I’m here for my mom,” I said, calmly. “That’s all.”

“Mmhm.” Toni didn’t sound convinced. “Sure that’s the only reason?”

I looked up, gave her a tight smile. “You want a good line or a good tattoo?”

Toni raised her hands. “Okay, okay. Shutting up. For now.”

The shop smelled like antiseptic and faint lavender from the cheap candle Junebug insisted on lighting near the register. Outside, the sun beat down on the dusty streets of Clearwater Ridge, casting long shadows through the front window. I could see people pass; some I knew, some I’d hooked up with in another life, and others who now couldn’t meet my eyes.

I finished the shading and patted the tattoo dry before covering it. “All done. Take care of it, alright? No sun, no pool, and definitely no scratching.”

Toni slid off the seat, peeking at the ink in the mirror. “Damn. You’re magic.”

“Just fast hands,” I replied, stripping off my gloves and tossing them into the bin.

Junebug leaned over the front counter, her cropped pink hair a bright pop of color against the black walls. “Cassie, you’re booked back-to-back today. You sure you wanna power through?”

I nodded. “Gotta pay the bills somehow.”

Junebug squinted at me, biting her lip. “You okay though? You look... kinda pale.”

“I’m fine.”

But I wasn’t.

Coffee and a granola bar didn’t count as breakfast, My stomach twisted again, and I pressed a hand to it discreetly as I walked to the sink.

The door jingled as another client came in, a young guy in a rugby jersey and a cocky grin. Probably one of Logan’s teammates. I didn’t look up. My vision was getting fuzzy at the edges. Maybe the shop was too hot. Maybe it was the sharp smell of cleaning alcohol. Maybe it was the way my body just felt... off.

I pushed through the next session, my hands moving on instinct while my thoughts spiraled. By the time I finished, my head was pounding, and my skin clammy.

“I just need a sec,” I muttered to Junebug, stepping into the back room.

I sat down on the small couch, letting my head fall into my hands. My stomach heaved once. Then again. I barely made it to the sink before I threw up.

Junebug knocked gently. “Cass...?”

I rinsed my mouth and wiped my face with a paper towel. “I’m good.”

“Liar,” Junebug said softly. “Want me to reschedule the next one?”

I shook my head. “No. But can you cover for me for like... thirty minutes?”

Junebug blinked. “Where are you going?”

I didn’t answer.

^°^°^°^°^°^^^°^°°^

The clinic was quiet, cold, and smelled like hand sanitizer. I sat on the exam table, heart racing as the nurse clicked away on a tablet.

“Your symptoms match early pregnancy,” she said calmly. “But we’ll do a quick test to be sure.”

I nodded, my hands folded in my lap. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to think.

When she returned with the test, she didn’t need to say anything.

Two pink lines stared back at me.

Positive.

The word pounded through my brain.

I sat there, staring at the stick in her hand. My chest felt tight. My breath barely reached my lungs. My mouth was dry, like cotton had stuffed every corner of it.

Not now. Not this. Not him.

I grabbed my bag and walked out on autopilot, barely saying goodbye. The street outside felt too loud, too bright. Everything looked sharp around the edges. My boots crunched on the gravel as I headed toward the small pharmacy down the block.

I needed another test. Maybe the clinic was wrong.

I walked through the automatic doors and down the aisle toward the pregnancy tests. My hand hovered over the shelf, fingers brushing the boxes; First Response, Clearblue, cheap generics. I picked one up, staring at the label like it might change.

Then I heard a voice behind me.

Familiar. Deep. Rough from sleep and s*x and secrets.

“Cassie?”

I froze.

I turned slowly, the test still in my hand.

And there he was.

Logan.

Standing in the pharmacy aisle, rugby jersey clinging to his chest, a bottle of Gatorade in his hand and confusion in his eyes as he looked at the box I was holding.

Silence stretched between us, thick as honey.

I didn’t breathe.

Logan looked at me. Then at the box. Then back at me.

“…Is that what I think it is?”