Offside Hearts

CHAPTER TWO

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?”

CHAPTER THREE: INTERFERENCE

(Logan's Point of View)

The box in her hand said everything she wasn’t ready to admit. Cassie didn’t speak, didn’t move, just clutched the pregnancy test like it might vanish if she held it tight enough. Her eyes flicked to mine, then past me. I watched the panic ripple across her face.

She turned, muttering something under her breath, and walked straight to the checkout counter. Her boots hit the tile like gunshots, fast and sharp. I followed her without thinking, heart hammering in my chest. Riley, my sister, was behind the register, half bored, half busy texting someone. Her brows arched the second she saw Cassie toss the test on the counter.

Cassie’s voice was tight. “Just this.”

Riley gave me a look before she scanned the box. I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. My throat was dry, like it’d been stuffed with cotton and disbelief.

Cassie shoved some bills at Riley, grabbed the bag before the receipt even printed, and headed for the door.

“Cassie—wait,” I called.

She kept walking.

My legs moved before I thought. The automatic doors opened with a hiss as she stepped onto the sidewalk. She moved like she could outrun the truth. I caught her by the back of her jacket just before she stepped off the curb.

“Hey,” I said, gripping her sleeve. “Just talk to me.”

She spun around, eyes blazing. “Let go, Logan.”

“Cass. Come on.” I kept my voice low, calm. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying,” she snapped. “You saw a box. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Seriously?” My chest burned. “You expect me to believe this is just some random impulse purchase?”

Her jaw clenched. “It’s none of your business.”

The words hit like a slap. I let go of her jacket.

“I think it is,” I said. “After that night, I think it really damn is.”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t flinch. Just turned and crossed the street like it was over. Like it hadn’t already started.

I stood there, cars rolling by, the sun too bright for how cold it felt inside me. My fists curled at my sides.

Back inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. I walked up to Riley, who had paused mid-swipe of her screen. She didn’t speak for a second. Just stared out the door.

“Do you know something?” I asked quietly.

Riley met my eyes. She had that nurse look clinical, concerned, way too perceptive. “You really think she bought that for fun?”

“She said it didn’t mean anything.”

“She’s lying.”

I stared at her. “How can you be sure?”

“Junebug told me she threw up last week. In the back of the shop. Said it was nothing. She’s pale, tired, skipping meals. And you—” Riley raised an eyebrow. “—you’ve been acting like a lovesick i***t since she showed up.”

“I’m not lovesick.”

“You’re not convincing anyone but yourself.”

I looked away. My jaw ached from clenching it. “You think she’s pregnant?”

“I think she’s scared. And yeah, probably pregnant. But it’s her call if she wants to say it out loud.”

I dragged a hand through my hair. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“No, you should’ve,” Riley said gently. “Just not like that.”

The pharmacy door chimed behind me as a couple came in laughing, carrying iced coffees and weekend energy. It felt wrong. Like the world shouldn’t be spinning so fast while everything in me ground to a halt.

“I don’t know what to do,” I muttered.

Riley tilted her head. “You wait. And when she’s ready, you show up.”

I nodded but didn’t move. My boots stayed rooted to the tile as if leaving meant I was giving up. But Riley was right. I had to wait.

^°^°^°^°^°^°^^^°^°^°^^

I didn’t go straight to Cassie’s. I needed air. Noise. Something to pull me out of my own head.

So I drove out to the rugby field.

The sun was hot overhead, and the guys were already warming up by the time I changed into my cleats and jogged across the grass. It smelled like sweat, earth, and damp grass. Coach was blowing his whistle, barking directions. I barely heard him.

“Look who finally rolled in,” Edward Jones called, tossing a ball in my direction. His grin was wide, cocky as ever. “Thought maybe you’d eloped with your tattoo girl.”

I caught the ball and forced a smirk I didn’t feel. “Shut up, Jones.”

He jogged beside me, elbowing me in the ribs. “Nah, seriously. That stunt you pulled at the bar the other night? All soulful stares and jaw clenching. You looked like a damn Nicholas Sparks character.”

“I wasn’t—” I sighed and tossed the ball back. “Forget it.”

Edward gave me a sidelong glance. “Okay... you’re not even fighting back. That’s worse.”

Practice started, but I was barely there. I ran drills, passed clean, but my head wasn’t in it. Every time I blinked, I saw Cassie’s face in the pharmacy aisle. Pale. Shocked. Beautiful.

Halfway through scrimmage, Coach blew the whistle and stalked up to me.

“You wanna be here or not, Morgan?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry. You’re distracted. Get your head on straight or hit the showers.”

Edward trotted over as Coach walked off. “Alright, bro. Spit it out. What the hell’s going on?”

I exhaled, ran a hand over my jaw. “Cassie might be pregnant.”

Edward blinked. “Oh.”

“She didn’t say it, but… yeah.”

“Yours?”

I gave him a look.

He nodded slowly. “Damn. That’s heavy.”

We stood there a beat. Edward scratched at the back of his head. “Okay, well… what if she couldn’t say anything ‘cause you cornered her in a freaking public store? Maybe she’s just freaked out.”

“I know she is,” I muttered.

“So go to her. Go to her house. Ask her. Face to face. Not with her mom around, not with your sister glaring. Just the two of you.”

I hesitated.

Edward clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Look, if you really want to know, you’re not gonna get answers pacing on a field.”

-^°^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^¥^^^¥^^

Cassie’s house sat just off a dirt road, tucked behind an old oak tree and a half-fallen mailbox. Her porch light was dim, flickering like it couldn’t make up its mind. I stood in front of it long after the sun had dipped, crickets humming in the weeds, the warm scent of pine thick in the summer air.

My truck’s engine ticked as it cooled behind me. I’d driven around town twice before ending up here.

From the porch, I could hear voices faintly through the screen door. Cassie’s mom was talking about groceries, something about too much pasta and not enough milk. Then a pause.

A question.

“You okay, sweetheart? You’ve been quiet.”

Cassie mumbled something I couldn’t catch.

I stepped onto the porch, wood creaking beneath my weight. I raised my hand, paused, then knocked.

The voices went still. A beat. Then the door opened.

Cassie stood there in shorts and a faded T-shirt, her hair messy from a bun that didn’t hold. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

She didn’t move.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

I didn’t hesitate.

“I know,” I said.

Her face went blank. I stepped closer, letting the light catch the edge of my expression.

“And I’m not going anywhere.”

The screen door shut behind her mother’s shadow, and all I could hear was the crickets. Her breath hitched, just once but she didn’t cry. Didn’t speak.

We stood in the dark, the air thick with everything we hadn’t said yet. But I was here. And I wasn’t leaving.