“Hey, Hayden. What’s your full name?” he asks, changing the subject. “Hayden Cassidy.” “I thought so.” He nods thoughtfully. “Dad has some of your hockey cards.” My eyebrows must skyrocket off my face with shock. “He does?” “Yeah, I wasn’t allowed to put them in my folder. I’ve been trying to collect all the seasons since the year I was born.” Well, fuck. Jackson’s kept some of my cards? To anyone else, it probably wouldn’t mean anything, but to me, it means everything. It means he’s still thought about me over the years. Thought of me enough to keep a piece of card for himself. I wonder
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AH!!! He has his CARDS!
