It would kill Thomas to give up the farm. It was all he had left of his parents and his memories of happier times. But he would do it for Cassidy—to get her out of this ridiculous radio war that she’d been dragged into. None of this was her fault. Thomas was the one at fault. He wasn’t even supposed to be at the Carter Ridge retreat house. And more than anything he just wanted to make things right.
Thomas packed up a few things in case he was away over night. He knocked on Cassidy’s door. The sound of her typewriter was the only indication that someone else existed on the other side of the attic door. A pile of decaying food sat on the landing. The plates had all gone untouched. He sighed and slipped a note under Cassidy’s door explaining he’d be gone for a little bit to take care of their problem. Then he picked up what he could carry of the plates and left.
Chapter 29
Cassidy
Cassidy heard Thomas lurking outside her door, but she ignored him as usual, keeping to her routine. But moments later, the sound of a car in the drive pulled Cassidy from her typing. She glanced out the window to see Thomas getting into a cab. He had a suitcase in his hand and regret flooded her. Stop it, she scolded herself. This is what you wanted. If he’s gone you can finally do it. End your miserable existence already.
Cassidy pressed her hand to the window. The biting cold of the glass barely affected her. She was half way through her bottle of gin—her last bottle. The timing couldn’t be anymore perfect. During her dozens of worthless goodbye drafts, Cassidy had decided that she couldn’t kill herself in the house. That had been her original plan. But Thomas being there changed things. Not matter what had transpired between them she couldn’t leave him to clean up her mess. She didn’t want him to be the one to find her. He didn’t deserve any more scars.
She planned her death to be quick and clean. She would leave Thomas a note and then go out to the woods with her stepfather’s pocket revolver. And that would be it—plain and simple.
After Thomas read her letter, he’d surely call the police. They would take it from there. It would probably be the dogs that discovered her body. She didn’t mind that. Finding her remains wouldn’t mean anything to dogs. And there was something peaceful about dying among the beautiful wildness of Carter Ridge. She’d never been able to get the place out of her mind since Jacob had first brought her here. It seemed only fitting that this would be were it all ended.
Suddenly, after nearly a week of time standing still, Cassidy felt rushed. She hadn’t perfected her suicide letter—her eulogy to the world. And her goodbye to Thomas. The most recent note he’d slid under her door beckoned Cassidy. She hadn’t opened any of the others he’d slipped under the attic door that week. They sat in a neat stack on her desk. But this one . . . this one begged her to read it. Maybe it was because now that he was gone, and the moment she’d been waiting for was finally upon her, Cassidy found herself desperately alone. Maybe she wanted to hear Thomas’s voice one last time before the end.
Whatever the reason, she opened the letter.
My dearest, Cassidy,
I may never right these wrongs, but still I must try. I’ve gone to take care of our problem. Hopefully by the time I return I will have good news. Then we can part ways at last and you will never have to feel the stain of my failures again.
I know I am a broken record. But I wish nothing but for you to know I never planned this. I’m wasting away from the thoughts of the pain I have caused you. But I will bear it as long as you know I never meant to hurt you. I wish nothing but the best for you.
Thomas
The sting of his words surprised Cassidy. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She flung the letter away from her as if it were poison. She’d been right not to read the others. His words held power over her. In just those few lines, her pain and determination had begun to melt away. No, it was only a temporary reprieve. If she read more it would only make her change her mind and that wouldn’t do anyone any good.
This was her chance. And she had to act quickly. If she was to believe his letter, Thomas would return. Perhaps any minute.
With calm efficiency Cassidy went to work. She tidied her room, made the bed, cleared away the remaining uneaten plates and then emptied the contents of her wastebasket, including her sullied manuscript for Jacob, into the trash outside the back door. She even threw away her suitcase full of clothes. She wouldn’t be needing them. Then she washed her face, braided her wild dark hair and painted her lips the color of blood.
She donned her blue dress. The one she’d worn the day she met Thomas. The one Jacob loved. She laughed at the ridiculousness of it. This dress had already been drenched in blood once. After her leg had healed, she’d scrubbed the dress relentlessly until all the stains came out, only to wear it today as a death shroud.
Cassidy ran her fingers over the thin cotton. It looked faded and sad, not at all like the icy blue water of the lake where she and Jacob first made love. She shivered against the cold. The howling wind kicked up again, rattling the windows and piercing the silence of the house. Snow had been falling for the past hour. Cassidy found herself calmed by it. She’d always loved the snow. It was so peaceful and clean. The idea of being buried in a blanket of white was soothing. Not to mention the fact that she would quickly freeze to death if her aim was off.
Now there was only one thing left to do. She went back to the attic and sat quietly at her desk, her fingers hovering delicately above her typewriter as she willed her heart to open one last time and pour out a proper goodbye. The rhythmic sound of metal stamping paper soothed Cassidy as she typed. And when she was done she felt settled.
She folded the letter and tucked it into an envelope, scrawling Thomas’s name on the outside. She placed it on the desk, grabbed her bottle of gin, her stepfather’s revolver and walked down the narrow stairs. She didn’t stop when she passed Thomas’s room. She wouldn’t allow herself to stop until it was done.
Cassidy opened the back door to the blustery winter storm, shutting it tightly before she walked with purpose toward the woods, leaving a trail of footsteps as she marched to the closure she craved.
Chapter 30
Thomas
Thomas’s head was pounding by the time the cab dropped him back at Carter Ridge. He’d been clenching his jaw the whole ride. And this time it wasn’t because of his fear of riding in an automobile. He’d been certain his plan to sell the family farm would work. And in essence it still could. But he’d been naïve to think it could happen quickly. The local attorney he spoke to in town assured him that he would start the paperwork, but it would take some time to change the deed and liquefy his assets.
After paying the cab driver, Thomas sighed and walked up to the remote retreat house. It somehow seemed smaller than when he’d left. Perhaps it was because it no longer represented his hopes and dreams, but rather his failures. He’d hoped to have better news to share with Cassidy upon returning. But as usual, he only had wishful thinking and empty promises to offer.
Thomas shook off his coat and hung it in the mudroom before retreating to his room. He hovered in the hall, straining to hear any hint of sound from the attic. He knew he should go straight up and tell Cassidy what he’d done. That he’d taken the first steps to freeing her from this insanity. But a part of him was slightly terrified of her reaction.
He shook off his nerves and trudged up the stairs to the attic. She’d probably just shut him out anyway. The idea of sharing the news through the attic door at least saved him the embarrassment of having to look her in the eyes. But when Thomas reached the landing he loosed a breath.
Something was wrong.
The plates were all gone and the attic door sat slightly ajar.
“Cassidy?” Thomas stepped tentatively toward the door, pushing it open further, then all the way when he didn’t hear a response.
The room was utterly empty. The bed made, the desk tidy, her clothes gone. It was as if she’d never been there at all.
Thomas’s heart
began to thunder in his chest as he gaped at the hollow room.
Gone. Gone. Gone. Those were the words he heard over the whoosh of his rapid pulse. She was gone because he had failed.
Then something caught his eye. A crisp white envelope had been carefully positioned on the desk next to the abandoned typewriter. And his name was on it. In one step, Thomas crossed the room and had the envelope in his hand. He tore it open with shaking hands. His heart leapt to his throat when he saw it was a letter addressed to him. He sat on the edge of the bed to devour her words.
Thomas,
I have to do something I can’t explain. But first I wanted to thank you. I have so many regrets, have made so many mistakes. But you were never one. You saw through me, the real me. You never let me hold back. With you I didn’t have to hide. I could be fire, bright, wild, broken, afraid, shamefully myself. You would’ve accepted it all. I know that. But we both have so many scars. And no one ever taught me how to fall, only to wreck.
I know you asked me to hold on. I wish I could stay. I wish I could fight. But I too wish you nothing but the best. And this is what’s best.
Cassidy
Crippling fear made it nearly impossible for Thomas to catch his breath. Where the hell had she gone? And what was she planning to do? Horror spread like darkness in his veins. He’d read letters like these before—suicide letters.
The thought of Cassidy doing something terrible because of him virtually blinded Thomas with panic. He dropped the note and scanned the room again for any signs of where she might have gone. Nothing. There was not a trace of her left beyond the letter.
Thomas tried to steady his breathing as he leaned against the cold window, craving its calming chill. Then . . . there it was. The clue he was looking for. Far below in the snow leading toward the lake and the woods . . . Footprints!
He didn’t wait a moment. Thomas sprinted down the stairs to the nearly covered footprints in the snow. Shit! How much of a head start did she have on him? He wasn’t going to gamble. He dashed back into the house, grabbing two items off the hooks in the mudroom—his jacket and the keys to Cassidy’s old pickup truck.
Slamming through the front door, Thomas was in the truck before he even had a chance to think of his fears.
“Come on, come on, come on!” he growled twisting the key in the ignition until the old truck rumbled to life.
From what Thomas could tell, Cassidy’s footprints followed the old Carter Ridge mining trail. The path was narrow, but the truck would get him at least to the woods. And faster than he’d move on foot.
Thomas stepped on the gas, swerving until he got the hang of steering in the slick snow. He thundered down the snow-covered path, following the vanishing footprints as he screamed Cassidy’s name out the open window, all too aware that he might be too late. He prayed he wasn’t driving to his own personal hell.
He arrived at the woods in a flash. Thomas realized the tree-lined path was too narrow to drive. The forest filled in so quickly he barely had enough time to stop. He managed to slam the brakes and skid to a stop, sliding sideways across the path. Thomas was out of the truck the moment it stopped moving. He didn’t even bother to turn it off— wipers going, door open, he ran into the woods screaming Cassidy’s name like a prayer.
Please, please! No more death. No more loss.
He knew he wouldn’t come back from this. If Cassidy killed herself . . . He couldn’t even finish the thought. Not yet. Not when there was still a chance she was out here. But with each fleeting step he knew the chance grew slimmer.
But then he saw her.
Chapter 31
Cassidy
Cassidy stood rooted to the spot. She glanced at her empty bottle of gin. She was hallucinating. That had to be it. The cold and the booze were playing tricks on her. Because there was no way Thomas had found her.
She blinked her eyes and turned away from the frantic figure streaking toward her. She heard her name over the howl of the wind. Maybe this was the beginnings of hypothermia. She probably didn’t have much time left. She had better get this over with. She was deep enough in the woods now. It seemed to be as good a place as any.
Cassidy raised the gun in her shaking hands. It was so cold. She was having trouble pulling back the hammer with her numb fingers. As she struggled with it she heard her name again. It was closer. Much closer.
She turned. Thomas was still there—so lifelike as he ran toward her screaming her name. He was only a few feet from her now. The doubtful voice in her mind hissed. Now! Do it now! Before he can stop you.
Finally, the hammer clicked. She held the cocked revolver up to her head as fear exploded on Thomas’s beautiful face.
“Goodbye,” she whispered and she squeezed the trigger.
Cassidy was knocked off her feet. But not by the bullet—by a body . . . by Thomas. He smashed into her with such force that she lost her grip on the gun, flinging it somewhere in the snow. Thomas frantically launched himself off of her to find it. When he located it in the snow he made short work of discharging the bullets into the frozen air.
The thunderous sound of the gunshots shattered Cassidy’s hazy calm. She scrambled to her feet, turning to Thomas who was clicking the empty gun skyward, not trusting that the bullets were all gone. He locked eyes with Cassidy and flung the gun aside, charging toward her with hate blazing on his face.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he bellowed.
“You—you’re, n-not supposed to b-be here,” she stammered with frozen lips.
“Right! I got your note!” His fingers dug into her shoulders sharply and he shook her. “What the hell did you think I was going to do? Let you kill yourself?”
“Yes! Thomas! That’s what’s best for everyone! Stop getting in my way.”
“No! That’s not what’s best. Can’t you see that I need you? That we’re the same?”
“We’re nothing alike! You’re good and I’m . . . I’m nothing.”
“Cassidy—”
“No!” She kicked out at Thomas, landing a practiced foot between his legs. He hissed and fell to the ground as Cassidy spun and raced back the way she’d come.
When her truck came into view fire roared in Cassidy’s heart. She could make it. She could escape. Her truck would give her a final chance at ending her sad existence. She ran faster, already hearing Thomas screaming behind her.
Just a little bit further!
She swung herself into the waiting cab and shifted into drive before she’d even shut the door. She careened down the embankment before righting herself to drive back up toward the mining path. Thomas was there, shouting at her but she drove on, swerving when he tried to latch onto the truck. But he was faster. He grabbed onto the fishtailing truck and swung himself into the bed.
“Pull over,” he screamed from behind her, banging against the glass.
She ignored him and pressed the accelerator. She could see the lake ahead. It was nearly iced over from the severe weather the past few days. She angled toward it. The lake. It was the perfect place to—
Cassidy’s musings were interrupted by the shattering of glass. She shrieked as Thomas smashed through the back windshield with a tire iron and slid into the seat next to her.
“Stop this right now!” he screamed, grabbing for the wheel.
“Get out, Thomas!”
“No!”
“Don’t think I won’t do this with you here. Because I will,” she yelled as they struggled. “I’ll kill us both if I have to.”
“Good!” he screamed letting go of the wheel to grab her face. “Do it. Because I don’t want to live without you.”
She took her eyes off the road to look at him. The pain that etched across his face was worse than any of his scars. It took her breath away.
“Please don’t,” he begged. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
Just as she was about to respond the truck lurched and they slid off the road, careening toward the lake. There were only moments of sil
ence and air between them before they plunged into the icy water.
It was only a second. That’s all the time it took before the frigid water clawed into them, shattering any illusions Cassidy had about a peaceful death. She gasped, shouting for Thomas. His arms wrapped tightly around her as the water rushed in stealing her breath.
“Thomas!” She screamed as the blast of water threatened to tear them apart. But he never let go. Instead his grip tightened as he dragged her from behind the wheel and struggled to haul them both through the sinking back window. They fought through the freezing water, gasping and sputtering for air. He held onto her until they were both heaving and shuddering on the frozen shore.
Realization burst through the suffocating pain in Cassidy’s lungs. She had tried to kill Thomas and he would have let her rather than let go. With her first steady breath she shoved him. “You fool! I could have killed you!” she rasped. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“That I’m in love with you!” he shouted back, taking her frozen face between his large shaking hands. “Do you hear me? I’m in love with you, Cassidy Clark! And that means I’m going to fight for you every day until you believe me.”
She gazed deep into the darkness of his brown eyes. She let herself fall into their abyss as she saw her own reflection in them. He loved her? Her? The crazy, broken, nearly drowned woman in front of him? Not possible. He must be crazy. And she told him so.
Thomas laughed and pulled her to her feet. “Maybe I am crazy to love you. But it doesn’t change how I feel.” His thumb grazed the plane of her face roughly as he pulled her toward him. Their lips were mere inches apart and the tendrils of their frozen breath danced between them.
Retreat To Me (The Retreat Series Book 1) Page 9
