𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐞 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I have never been more happy that I installed Life 360 on Cain's phone. When I called him, he didn't seem like he'd be willing to give me details about where he was exactly. He's been like this for weeks and every time I try to help, he either brushes me off or he completely ignores me.

Pulling up to where the GPS claims he is, I turn the radio off, knowing full well he won't be in the mood to listen to Taylor Swift, or anything on my playlist, for that matter. All he listens to is that screaming crap where you can't even distinguish what they're saying half the time. I guess that fits perfectly with Cain's persona, though. Massive, intimidating biceps, tattoos from head to toe (literally), and always wears a scowl on his face that screams 'stay away from me'.

When I pull to the curb, I wish I could say I'm shocked by how quickly he stands from the bench and drags his feet toward my car—but I'm not. I was hoping the guy he was sitting with might be someone he might befriend with how eager the poor guy looked, but that's just not something Cain does. He doesn't talk to people. He never has. Except for me once upon a time.

He opens the door forcefully when a rush of cold air enters my car and all but whips me in the face. After pulling his beanie down past his eyes, he reclines the seat back and doesn't say a single word, so I don't either. I've known him long enough to pick up on his cues of when it's okay to ask questions, or breathe loudly for that matter. Instead, I simply keep the radio off, turn the heat up, and slowly pull back into traffic.

The drive from the Bronx to my condo in Queens is painfully quiet. I say painfully since not a single word is spoken in the entire hour of driving. He just sits there with his beanie pulled over his eyes, his jaw clenched, and his leg bouncing anxiously. All the signs of "don't bother right now".

I slowly pull the car into the small driveway when Cain finally removes his beanie from his eyes. He squints his piercing blue eyes while the sun reflects harshly off the snowbanks that line my entrance. I cut the engine, but don't leave the vehicle right away. Instead, I lean against the seat and look at him. He looks so... lost.

"Cain?" I ask quietly.

He turns his head toward me, but he doesn't say a word. Just leaves me to drown in his ocean blues, instead.

"Poppy misses you," I say with a small smile, hoping it would help his sour mood.

He chuckles softly. "She misses everyone," he says before pulling his eyes from mine and stares at my garage door.

I pull my lips between my teeth, forming a thin line before I tug on his hoodie. "Come on. I'll make you some coffee."

Walking through my door, I hang my purse on the hook and place my keys on the table beside the door. "Poppy?" I say loudly.

Nothing.

I look at Cain and gesture for him to try. He shakes his head and lets out a low whistle. "Poppy!" he says loudly.

Suddenly, barreling down the narrow hallway comes Poppy in all her glory. Her long golden coat swishes beneath her while her tail whips dramatically. When she reaches Cain, she licks his pant leg with a whimper to really sell how happy she is.

"See? You've been gone too long. You're making her cry," I say jokingly. I kneel in front of her and rub her long face.

He kneels beside her while she continues to assault his face with endless kisses. His face scrunches up to protect his eyes and mouth from the slobber. Even though it's too late and is already shining along his face.

I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh when he shoots me his famous side-eye.

"What's so funny?" he mumbles, his mouth only opening on the side where Poppy isn't occupying.

"I'll grab you a cloth," I snicker while leaving the entryway.

Walking into the kitchen, the sun spills in through the windows enough so I don't even need to turn the light on. I open the pantry and pull out the dog food to fill Poppy's bowl, taking full advantage of the fact she's still in the other room with Cain. Feeding a hungry golden retriever while she looms over you is impossible when all she does is try to catch it before it lands. As soon as the kibble clatters against the dish, the sound of paws hitting the hardwood floor comes closer and closer before she's scarfing it down.

Cain walks into the kitchen and removes his beanie from his head before shoving it into his pocket. "She heard you filling her food bowl and abandoned me. Pretty rude if you ask me," he chuckles while watching her.

"Yeah, that sounds like Poppy. You'll be the most important thing until there's food involved. Sounds like someone I know, come to think of it," I tease.

His lips curl at one corner before he nods. "Fair."

The smile that almost consumed his lips is gone within seconds, now replaced with a look of utter detachment. The permanent frown lines on his cheeks have deepened since the last time I saw him, and I wish I knew what I could do to soften them. He's been so disconnected not only from me, but from everything, and I'm afraid it might be too late. It hurts my heart in a way I can't even begin to describe, watching him slowly fall apart when I know what he's capable of. If only we could go back to when we were seventeen again.

I pull a washcloth from the draw and run it under the warm water before I hand it to Cain. He takes it willingly with a nod before he runs it down his face when something catches my eye.

I remove one of his hands from his face and pull it toward me to inspect further when he winces at my touch. His knuckles are split, all of them puffy and red, and not just from it being cold outside. I look up at him and scoff under my breath.

"You're fighting?" I ask. My eyebrows pull together, feeling insulted that he wouldn't tell me.

My question remains unanswered, the silence so dense you could hear a pin drop. He walks to the sink and tosses the rag in before leaning his back against the counter with a heavy sigh.

"Why wouldn't you tell me? You know I would have been there." It's not like he doesn't know that. I've been to every fight he's had since he started. I've been there through every victory, and every loss, cheering him on no matter what. Why wouldn't he want me there?

"There was nothing to be there for," he shrugs nonchalantly.

I shake my head in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, there was nothing to be there for. It wasn't in the ring," he says before running his hands down his face again.

"Cain," I say with a serious tone. The frustration squeezes my throat, tightening its grip while it tells me to just drop it, but I can't. It's like he's trying to get himself locked up. Fighting in the ring is one thing, but fighting on the street? That's a different story. At least if he's doing it as a sport, he wouldn't get in trouble that lands him behind metal bars and phone calls once a week—if that.

"What do you want me to say, Cassie?" he asks before pushing off the counter. He stalks over to the cabinet, pulls out a mug, and places it on the counter forcefully.

"I want you to tell me what's going on with you," I demand. My hands slap against my side, the sting radiating through my pants.

"Nothing's going on with me," he defends with a raised voice.

His sudden volume takes me by surprise while a chill slithers down my spine, freezing me in place. I want to believe he would never lose his temper with me, but after the last time...

I shake the thought away, not wanting to relive that moment. The important thing is that he has never—and will never—lay a hand on me and I can trust him.

He approaches my coffee pot when he shakes his head and points at the machine. "What the fuck is that?" he asks.

I raise an eyebrow at him, not understanding what he means. "What? It's an espresso machine, Cain."

"Why does it have a hundred buttons?"

"It has different settings," I say while walking toward him.

"It shouldn't be this difficult for a simple cup of coffee," he mutters to himself.

I roll my eyes while I work the machine for him. "Do you want it like normal?"

"Please," he says quietly. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose while he presses his back against the wall.

I fix him a regular cup of scalding hot black coffee and hand it to him with a faint smile. "Please talk to me, Cain," I murmur. I attempt to have him look me in the eye, but I'm instead met with a shrug.

"I told you. I'm fine," he replies without looking up.

I take a step back from him, trying to think of something that'll make him talk. I chew the inside of my lip. There's one thing I could do, but it could cause the total opposite to happen.

Poppy walks over slowly before she nudges her head against Cain's knee, begging for attention. He kneels back down to take her floppy ears in his hands and brings his forehead to hers. He murmurs something to her I can't quite hear, but whatever it was causes a smile to flicker across his lips before it vanishes just as quickly as it appeared.

"Stay right here," I tell him before leaving the kitchen.

I walk quickly to the hall closet and rip open the door before dropping to my knees. I shuffle through endless piles of shoes and jackets that have fallen from the hangers before I finally come across what I was looking for. My hands wrap around a freshly wrapped box with a gold bow decorated on the front.

Touching the box alone fills me with so much hope my heart races. This can go one of two ways. He'll either love it and I'll finally see a genuine smile for the first time in a long time, or he'll be pissed. It's always hit or miss with Christmas when it comes to Cain Blackwood—but I couldn't pass this up.

I rise to my feet slowly, my hands already sweating against the forest green wrapping paper while hold on to it for dear life. I hide the gift behind my back and glance at Cain through the entryway. He's still knelt down, loving on Poppy while she just sits there with her head in his hands.

I close my eyes and say a silent prayer. This was a good gift, and I know it was. The question is, will he think so? Or will he think I'm just trying to make decisions for him? I take in a deep breath before crossing into the kitchen.