My judgment sucks.
I haven’t moved much from my bed since I heard him say that. I’m on day two, and I wonder if anyone would notice if I stayed in bed even longer. A week? A month? Until they find my body shriveled up from sadness?
There’s a knock at my door. I glance at the clock. It’s four o’clock. It’s been three days since the fight at the Taproom, and I have yet to come face-to-face with Wyatt. I’ve got this avoidance thing down pat. I know he went to the bar, so I don’t even hope it’s him.
“Yeah?”
The door pushes open and Tristan peeks his handsome face in. “It’s that time.”
I worry I’ve forgotten something important and shoot up to a sitting position in my pajamas.
“What time?”
“Shower time.” He comes into the room and sits on the edge of the bed in his board shorts. His brown eyes are full of worry, and I wonder if he spent the night again and knows that I’ve been hiding up here this whole time.
I fall back down and cover my head with the blankets. “I don’t wanna shower.”
Tristan tugs the blanket down. “Well, tough shnookies, hon. Just because you make out with a loser doesn’t mean you’re a tramp.”
“How do you know that’s why I’m in here?” I won’t dare tell him the truth.
“I’m human. You feel like a slut, which you’re not. And you don’t know how to act around Wyatt, which is okay, because none of us do right now.”
I sit up and fidget with the seam of the blanket. “I didn’t feel like a slut until you said that.”
He rolls his eyes. “We all feel like sluts sometimes.” He stands up and pulls me from the bed. “We’re supposed to feel like sluts. God gave us lust, right? Well, we’re only human, so we take that word and we mix up the letters.” He shrugs and I laugh.
“You’re so weird.”
“Maybe so.” He goes to my dresser and picks out a bikini and a pair of shorts and then leads me into the bathroom. “Shower. And be sure to shave those hairy legs of yours.”
He closes the door behind him and I stare at it, and then I look in the mirror. Holy crap. I can’t believe how bad I look. My eyes are puffy from crying on and off over the last forty-eight hours, and my skin looks gross, which I’m sure is from dehydration. I turn on the shower and stand beneath the warm spray for a long, long time, thinking about my life.
I wonder why I don’t feel like an orphan, too. I should, given the way my parents ignore me. They’ve checked on me only once since Wyatt’s parents died, and they spent that time telling me how they hoped I’d get the job in New York so that I could make a name for myself and build a strong career. They talked about making money and climbing corporate ladders. They didn’t seem concerned about how Wyatt and Delilah are holding up. Kyle cheating on me after two years should make me feel even worse, and it does make me feel like shit, but I know that was his issue, not mine. You can’t love someone and cheat on them.
I think about the fight at the Taproom and the look in Wyatt’s eyes when he was defending me. And the look in Tristan’s eyes when he just came in and dragged me out of my bed. I think about the concern on Brandon’s face two nights ago when he was watching Wyatt as we walked home after the fight. Those are the looks that matter. They were filled with compassion and drawn from the heart, not born of insecurities. And Wyatt. Sweet, wonderful, protective Wyatt. He saved me when that guy was forcing himself on me. I could have really been hurt. But on the way home, Wyatt had so much anger in his eyes that he scared the shit out of me, and I wonder how much of it, if any, was because he thought I deserved it or was asking for it. Or if he’s angry because he’s felt the energy between us shifting, or worse, because he’s felt it shifting and then I had my arms around that guy. I’m not sure if it’s anger toward me or not, but based on what I overheard yesterday, I can only assume it is. While he and I were busy not looking at each other, I was stealing glances at him. I saw a wide range of emotions, including an overpowering amount of regret that overtook all the others. I just wish I knew how to navigate this unfamiliar territory we’ve found ourselves in.
I shave my legs, then turn off the water and dry off. While I get dressed I think about Wyatt taking care of me when I was too drunk to walk, and then I think about the end of summer, which feels like it’s fast approaching even if it’s not. An icy feeling of loneliness seizes my chest. I open the bathroom window to clear out the steam and listen to the sounds of the ocean waves breaking and faint voices in the distance. I inhale the sea air, smiling as it fills my lungs. I don’t feel lonely because I feel like I fit in here, and I realize that just like when we were at college, when I’m with Wyatt, I always feel like I fit in.
Except now that fit feels off, like it’s forced and unnatural for the first time ever.
I gaze out the window, thinking about school and how it was a given that we’d all attend the same college. The three of us never questioned it. One day we were having lunch at Wyatt’s house and he looked at us and asked if we wanted to do college apps that evening to get it out of the way. We didn’t even discuss what schools we liked or anything. His parents had given them the names of three colleges and we filled out our applications. My parents hadn’t even offered to help. I told them I’d applied to schools and they said that was good. Like they’d expected nothing less.
My thoughts turn to New York and how badly I wanted to work there. I’ve only been there once to visit, though I did take a quick trip for my interview. When I visited with my parents, they showed me the entire city. We saw a Broadway show, ate at strange and unique restaurants, shopped, and it was like the days and nights blended together. I felt like I had their attention for the first—and only—time in my life. I was thrilled when my interview with the accounting firm in Manhattan went so well. It’s weird to think that in a few weeks my whole life could change and I could be living in Manhattan.
On my own.
In a strange city.
Without Wyatt.
I lean against the windowsill and try to imagine my life without Wyatt. He hasn’t texted me at all since his parents died, and he used to text me. Never a lot, but sometimes. He’s more of a face-to-face guy, and it’s one of the things I love about him. He doesn’t skimp on seeing me.
Until now.
“Cass?”
Tristan’s voice pulls me from my self-imposed torture of dissecting my future.
“Yeah, I’m coming.” I pull the door open and run a comb through my hair as Tristan leans against the doorframe. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“Everywhere. You needed to get out of bed. We’re going to the library to make sure my brain doesn’t turn to mush, and then we’ll have lunch at Brooke’s, and then…if you’re a really good girl, we’ll go hang out on the beach and get that hot bod of yours a nice golden tan.”
I set down my comb and fall against his chest. “Thank you, Tristan.” If I do get that job in New York, I wish I could pack everyone up and bring them with me.
“Come on, slut girl. Grab your camera and let’s go.”
I know Tristan is kidding, but my mind goes directly to Wyatt, and I wonder if he thinks I’m a slut for real.
Chapter Twelve
~Wyatt~
I’VE MANAGED TO avoid a run-in with Cassidy, and while I thought it would make me feel better, now, several nights later, I still feel like shit. And I miss the hell out of her. I stay after work with Jesse to have a few beers and talk about the bar. He wasn’t pissed at me for the fight, but he’s definitely still tense. Even though it’s dark out, I can see his jaw clenching even more than usual, and he’s glanced at me only out of his peripheral vision, not head-on, like he usually does. I don’t like knowing I caused this rift between us.
“Everything go okay when Tim showed you the books?” Jesse asks.
I shrug. “He showed us his procedures, but we haven’t really gone over the books yet.”
“But you’re looking for someone to audit them for t
he last quarter, right?” Jesse shifts his eyes to me, and I know he’s concerned. “You can’t let that slip, Wyatt.”
“I know. My plan was to have Cassidy help me do it, but…”
Jesse runs his hand through his long hair and narrows his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re still not talking to her. Dude, that’s so uncool.”
I down my beer, not wanting to talk about Cassidy. Just thinking about her makes my body react in ways that it’s not supposed to. I don’t know how to control that without either being a dick or acting on it. I feel her slipping away. Last night when I came home she was out on the deck with Brandon and Tristan. Brandon was playing his guitar and she was singing with Tristan on the steps of the deck. When she sings, it’s like every word is seeping with emotion. Just like the photographs she takes. Everything Cassidy does comes from her heart.
She didn’t even look at me, and I knew she must still be pissed. I worry that it’s more than that. That she knows what I’m feeling, and maybe that upsets her more than me hitting that guy. So instead of hanging out with everyone, I went upstairs and shot a round of pool and nearly sent a ball across the room because I was so angry at myself.
“What’s the deal between you two?” Jesse sets his beer down and stares at me until I look away. “What happened? Did you two sleep together?”
“No, we didn’t fucking sleep together. Nothing happened. It’s just…all this shit, that’s all.” I get up, feeling torn between wanting to punch something and wanting to spill my guts to Jesse about how I feel about Cassidy. I don’t know if I’m angry that he thinks I’d sleep with Cassidy and then not talk to her, or if I’m mad that I want to sleep with her. I can’t think clearly, and I just want all the tension to disappear.
“I’m getting another beer. You want one?” He hasn’t finished his first, but I figure it’ll save another trip inside.
Jesse shakes his head, and I feel his eyes follow me into the bar. I grab another beer and sink onto a barstool for a minute. I hate everything right now. I hate the bar, I hate my parents, and I sure as hell hate this shit between me and Cassidy. When I go back out to the pier, Jesse’s on his cell phone with a pinched look on his face.
“You all right?” I sit down and he nods, then shakes his head.
He ends the call, shoves his phone in his pocket, and runs a frustrated hand through his long dark hair. “Do you think you can handle the bar for a week?”
“Sure. Of course. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I’ve just got to take care of some business.” He rubs his hands down the thighs of his jeans and exhales loudly, like whatever business he’s taking care of is pissing him off. Better the business than me.
“No problem. I can handle it.” I wonder why he’s not telling me what he’s got to take care of, but knowing Jesse, he probably feels like I already have enough shit on my plate. He’s not one to share his burdens with others.
“We’re short staffed, Wyatt. I was going to hire another two full-time employees, but I haven’t had time, and we have a party of fifteen booked for Wednesday.”
I didn’t think his eyes could get more serious, but they do. “Jesse, I can handle it. I’ll make sure we’re staffed.” I have no idea if I really can handle it or not, but since the fight, I feel like a noose around the guy’s neck. Time to lessen his burden and figure stuff out on my own.
“We have a delivery coming in in two days. Delilah has a handle on the inventory and how to handle deliveries. I’ve gone over it with her.”
“Yeah, she told me. I’ve got it—no worries.”
He nods. “I hate to leave you hanging when things are so up in the air.”
“No problem, man.” I can’t imagine that it’s going to be as difficult as he acts like it will be. It’s a week of running the bar, something my dad made look easy. I’m sure we can handle it.
“You’ve got to keep a clear head, Wyatt. That means no drinking. Not on the job, not with the employees when they’re off and you’re in charge.”
“Yes, father dearest. I think I can handle myself. I’m not an idiot.”
Jesse leans forward and sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that. But this business of coming in at eleven won’t cut it.”
He may be right, but he’s starting to piss me off. “I’ve got it. I said no problem. The fight the other night was a mistake. I’ve got my head on straighter. I’ll be fine.” I hope he’s buying this. The last thing I want is to let Jesse down after he saved my ass.
“Hey, guys.”
I turn at the sound of Brooke’s voice. She’s smiling, but her eyes are filled with worry. Jesse pulls a chair out for her, and she tosses her dark hair over her shoulder and sits between us.
“Hey, Brooke. Where’s Delilah?” I don’t like the idea of her being alone when she’s going through such a hard time.
“She’s with Ashley. They went to a movie. That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” She reaches for Jesse’s beer and he smiles and nods. She takes a sip and then turns her attention back to me.
“I got your text earlier. She’s okay, Wyatt. This will take some time for her. Delilah is so sensitive, and I know that guys can sort of muscle through these things a little better than girls can in general, but I wanted you to know that I’m your friend, too. If you need me, I’m here.”
“Thanks, Brooke. I know that. I’m good, though. Really.” I sound so confident that I almost believe it.
She touches my hand. “We haven’t had much time to talk. Are you really okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” I finish my beer, knowing full well I won’t be fine until I clear things up with Cassidy.
“We had a nice talk about your mom, but I think it’s all hitting her now that she’s here. You know, waking up and smelling coffee brewing and expecting to see her mom even though she knows she’s gone. Those types of unexpected things are hard for her. Do you mind that Delilah’s staying with me?” Brooke takes another sip of Jesse’s beer. “I think she needs the quiet, and the guys said they’ve been staying at your place.”
“I don’t mind. I just wish I could be the one helping her through all of this.”
Brooke places her hand on mine and softens her voice. “I know, Wyatt, but sometimes girls need to be around other women.”
I nod. “Whatever she needs. I just want her to be okay, Brooke, and if that means staying with you for a while, then that’s what it means.”
“Wyatt, I know the guys usually spend a lot of time at your place, but given your situation, if you don’t want them around, you can tell them,” Jesse suggests.
“It’s really fine.” The truth is, I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that I need them around right now. I need the company, and I’ve been worried about Cass keeping to herself so much. I’m glad she has them, too.
“I saw Tristan and Cassidy,” Brooke says. “They had lunch at the café. Cassidy’s going to work with me a few hours each week.”
“She is?”
Brooke reaches for Jesse’s beer again. “I’ll buy you another one. I promise.”
“Yeah, right.” Jesse laughs. “You’ve been drinking my beer for years and you have yet to replenish my stock.”
I feel like I’m waiting on pins and needles to see if she says anything else about Cassidy. I want to know how she is. Did she mention me?
Brooke crinkles her nose. “Sorry, Jesse. Wyatt, Cassidy said she wanted to work a few hours here and there, and I have a big event coming up that I could really use her help with. She also said that if she gets that job in New York, she’ll be leaving in a few weeks.”
My chest constricts. How did I forget that? How has the month gone by so fast? “Uh, yeah. If she gets a job in New York, I guess she will be leaving.”
“That’s what she said. She’s applied for junior accounting positions, and it sounds like she felt confident about getting one of them. She seemed nervous, though. She said she’s been to New York only once, with her parents.”
“W
ell, she only visited once with her parents, but she also went for the interview. Even though it was a quick trip, she was excited about the possibility of moving there.” The thought of Cassidy leaving makes me edgy. I knew she wanted to move to New York, but back then I didn’t feel about her the way I do now. Or at least I didn’t realize it if I did.
The way I shouldn’t.
I get up to get another beer. Drowning my thoughts seems to be the only way I can deal with this. Jesse grabs my arm. I stare at his leather wristband, then lift my eyes to his. He says a hundred things with that one look. He reiterates that he needs me to be sober when I take over the bar for the week. He wonders if I’m falling down a rabbit hole, and I want to tell him I’m not that stupid, but right now I don’t have any words to give him. I need to fall down that hole. It’s the only way I’ll survive losing my parents and Cassidy in this effed-up summer.
Chapter Thirteen
~Cassidy~
I NEVER THOUGHT I’d be so thankful for a summer job, but helping Brooke is about the only thing that’s keeping me from going insane with the way Wyatt’s doing everything he can to avoid me. I keep waiting for him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t even look me in the eye. When he comes down in the mornings, it’s like he’s gone all vacant stare on me. It’s been days since the fight, and I still can’t shake the guilt of knowing that he fought that guy because of me. And the only reason I even kissed the guy was that I was pissed that Wyatt was leaving with that bartender. She was all over all the guys that night, and he had to pick her? Of all the girls in there?
I hated thinking, Why not me?
That’s why I did what I never do, and left with that guy.
Catching Cassidy Page 12
