“You’ve got Kara,” I said, shoving him out of the way.
“She’s not coming. Went home for the weekend.”
I turned, needing to see his eyes now that I’d heard that note in his voice.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
Colt’s face tightened, his eyes shadowed. “I don’t know.”
“Fight later. Get in the car now.” Mom swept by us, pulling me along with her.
Colt shook his head and raised his eyebrows. No, I wouldn’t say anything. He relaxed, but his face was still drawn.
“I don’t think we’ve ever been on time to one of these things.” Mom sighed.
I helped her into the front seat.
“You look great.”
She beamed at me, happier than I’d seen her in years. Her short, light-brown hair flipped out, swinging around her jaw.
“She does, doesn’t she?” Dad said. He turned her head to kiss her.
I rolled my eyes at the soft connection of lips and climbed into the backseat of the SUV. Cassidy took up her normal spot in the middle while Colten slammed his door.
Dad hated limos and preferred to drive himself. That was one of the things I had to appreciate about my dad—he refused to let others dictate his life.
“Buckle up,” Mom said. She turned to look us over. “You’re a good-looking crew.”
I smiled at her, and she winked.
Normally, I wasn’t much for hobnobbing with Seattle’s rich and fast set. Not that everyone going tonight was fast. But they’d all be wealthy.
Maybe because I’d grown up with all the material trappings of success, I craved simpler moments. Sure, I liked performing. I was good at it, too. I’d learned to play the piano, guitar, banjo, drums, and even the tuba during a crazy stint in the marching band my freshman year of high school. That’s what happened when you were the son of one of an era’s top-ten best drummers.
Dad had been surprised I hadn’t taken the most glamorous role as lead guitarist. He’d pointed out I had the looks and flirting capabilities necessary to carry a band. But I wasn’t in music to be the face of a group and didn’t crave that attention. Kai was better in that role than I’d ever be, something Dad grudgingly agreed with when he came to one of our more recent shows.
Arriving at the hotel, I helped Mom from the Tahoe while Dad tossed the keys to the valet. Colt offered Cassidy his elbow and the two of them marched past the cameras. I handed Mom off to Dad and followed my siblings into the ballroom. We knew the drill. Our folks would find us once they’d completed their media duties.
“So what’ll it be to drink, ladybug?” I asked as we made our way into the crowd.
“My name is Cassidy.” My sister glared. “And I want sparkling water.”
I nodded and raised my brow to Colt, who called out, “Beer.”
“Everything cool?” I asked.
He shook his head, the tip of his nose turning red. “Not now. Not here.”
Well, damn. I rested my hand on his shoulder before trotting off to the bar, pretending I wasn’t looking for Abbi. Returning to Colten and Cassidy, we wandered through the space until we found a table to place our drinks on.
“You want to sit for a few minutes?” I asked Cassidy as Colt was pulled off into a conversation with some scientist he’d met a few months before.
“I need to talk to Briar. She asked me to give a speech. I need to know when I’m up.”
“I don’t know her, but we should be able to pick her out of the crowd.”
After a few minutes of circling the room, we still hadn’t found Briar. I took Cassidy back to the table, worried she’d already overdone it for the night. But her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright.
“Quite a turnout,” Mom said, settling her wrap and bag next to Cassidy’s chair. “I’m glad. Briar’s idea is such a good one.”
“We looked for her. Cassidy wanted to know when she was giving her speech.”
Mom frowned a little, trying to gauge Cassidy’s endurance.
“Clay.”
Goosebumps rippled across my skin at Abbi’s voice. That had never happened before, and my reaction pissed me off. She was just a girl. One I should really steer clear of. I turned slowly, gritting my teeth.
I wasn’t ready for the vision of Abbi Dorsey all dressed up. I’d thought she looked good in rolled up jeans—because she did—but tonight, she was stunning.
Her long, reddish hair was pulled up in a simple twist at the base of her neck, showing off the long line of her throat and those elegant cheekbones. Her makeup was minimal, her lip gloss natural, emphasizing the plumpness of those lips. The dress was simple with one shoulder strap that fell in an elegant line to the top of her high-heeled sandals. The soft lilac color enhanced the luster of Abbi’s Seattle pallor and brightened her amazing eyes.
“Hi. You look really pretty,” Cassidy said.
Cassidy had stepped into what was becoming an awkward silence as I continued to drink in the sight of Abbi. I wanted to study the small grouping of freckles I’d just noticed at the base of her neck.
Abbi shot Cassidy that unguarded smile I’d already come to crave.
“So do you. I love the color of your dress. Matches your eyes.”
Cassidy preened. “We got it from Nordstrom this morning. Where’s yours from?”
Abbi looked down, confusion puckering her brow. “I have no idea. My mom picked it out. So, I’m Abbi, by the way. And I’m assuming you’re Cassidy.” She held out her hand to the younger girl, who shook it with enthusiasm.
“Uh. Sorry,” I said, finally finding my voice. “So, yeah, that’s Cassidy. And my mom, Maryanne. You know my brother Colten. My dad’s talking to Cassidy’s oncologist back there.” I tipped my chin.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Abbi said to my mom, her eyes as hesitant as her voice.
“You, too, Abbi. I heard Clay ran into you last week.”
Abbi glanced at me, a smile tugging at her lips. “Bowled me over, more like.”
“I did teach him manners, regardless of what you saw.”
Abbi laughed, a bright sound that seemed to sparkle. She really needed to do that more often. “I’m sure you did.”
This easygoing Abbi was someone I liked more than the guarded woman I’d met a week ago. She tipped her head back so she could look up into my face. I leaned closer, ignoring my own warning. Abbi stilled, her smile dimming.
“I wish you would’ve come to our concert last Saturday. Or last night. I know Nessa invited you.”
“Concerts aren’t really my thing. Not that I doubt your greatness. I’m sure you are. Great, I mean.”
Her teeth sunk deep into her lower lip and her eyes darted from mine. I resisted the urge to smirk.
“So Aunt Bri wanted to know if you still planned to give a speech,” Abbi said, directing her attention toward Cassidy. “I’m the advance guard while she and my mom work out some details with the hotel staff.”
“Is there a problem?” Mom asked, looking around.
“Oof.” Abbi lurched, nearly falling into me. I placed my hands on her hips to steady her just as another set of arms wrapped around her from the back.
A freckle-faced boy peeked out from behind her, smiling wide.
“Sorry about the terror. His name,” Abbi said, extricating herself from both sets of our arms, “is Mason. My brother.”
He smiled wider, and I was sure it was because she left off the “step” part of their relationship.
“Hi,” Mason said. He stuck out his hand toward me. “You’re the Clay guy, right? The one Aunt Bri and Dahlia were talking about?”
Abbi’s cheeks flamed, and I chuckled. “My name is Clay, anyway. Nice to meet you, Mason.”
“My dad said your dad plays drums,” Mason said, plopping into the chair next to mine. “I like the drums, but I play saxophone in the school band. It’s okay.”
“Abbi, come over here and tell me more about tonight’s agenda,” my mom said. Abbi glanced at me and Ma
son, the color in her cheeks still bright, before wending her way around the table to sit on my mom’s other side.
“She likes you,” Mason said, his voice low. “So don’t hurt her feelings. Or I’ll have to kick your butt.”
I didn’t doubt for a minute this scrawny kid meant what he said. He might be young, but he’d grown up in the music community. He knew, as I did, just how hard the media churn was on relationships.
“I like Abbi, too. I don’t intend to hurt her.”
Mason nodded, his freckled face set in solemn lines. “That’s good. I’m not supposed to know about what her last boyfriend did. All because Abbi didn’t ask my dad to come to his concert.”
“Wait. Her ex wanted her to have Asher come play at some gig?”
“Yeah. But not for my dad, for the guy’s band. They’re crap. That’s why no one bought tickets.”
“Huh.”
Mason shrugged. “Least, that’s what I wasn’t supposed to hear and know. But I know he took pictures of her. Abbi cried a lot, and now she’s scared all the time. I don’t like her like this. She used to be really fun.”
I held up my hands, my mind spinning with thoughts. “So how do you know this?”
Mason shifted, his eyes darting around. “That’s not the point. You just need to know you’re the first person Abbi’s mentioned in months. Don’t make her sad again.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Good. ’Cause I worry about her. She needs real friends, not like that girl who set up the photos.”
12
Abbi
All during the dinner, my eyes drifted back to Clay. Mason wouldn’t tell me what they’d talked about, but I’d felt Clay’s gaze more than once—like he was pondering an equation and I wasn’t the right answer. I wasn’t hungry, not with my stomach so knotted up with wanting and not wanting to want Clay.
When Cassidy jumped from her chair, Clay half stood before his brother pulled him back down. I’d noticed that about him—that protective streak. A little shiver slid across my skin. What would he think if he found out why those pictures of me existed?
A camera flashed in front of my face and I blinked, a frown and a headache building. Mom’s hand came down on my knee, squeezing gently. “Just ignore him. Not a big deal.”
I tried, pretending I didn’t feel the next two flashes as I focused on Cassidy.
“I was almost eleven when I found out I had Hodgkin’s,” she said. “Too young to really understand what the doctors were talking about but old enough to realize I must be really sick if both my parents were upset enough to cry.”
She paused to look around the room, her presence seemed to grow. This young woman understood how to work a room, how to hold court. Warmth bloomed in my chest along with pride.
“Cancer doesn’t affect a certain group of people. It hurts all of us, no matter our age, our number of friends, the size of our house or anything else we might have. Cancer reminds us, especially the kids at the hospital, that we’re the same. That we’re sick and have to fight for each day, sometimes each breath.
“One of my friends came from a very wealthy family who didn’t like to visit her. Another’s parents worked four jobs between them to try to cover the bare minimum of her chemo costs, but they found time every day—every day—to visit Camille. And guess what? Camille’s in remission. She had a reason to fight. So did I.” Cassidy paused, letting the words sink in. She looked out at the crowd.
“Camille and I, we’re so lucky to know we have another chance at life. But even that’s not always easy. I didn’t expect to be here, and I’ve had to relearn how to be friends with normal kids. How to go to school and let comments about my lack of hair and skinniness role off my back. I did that with help from my therapist, who’s as much a part of my team as my oncologist.” She smiled, a small dimple forming on her right cheek as she waved at someone in the back of the room. The audience laughed.
“So here I am.” She lifted her arms from the podium, holding them outright. “Against the odds.” She looked down for a moment, her eyes somber when she raised them back to the elegantly dressed people just beyond her podium. “Many of you are here to do some charity work, and that’s great. But some of you”—her gaze settled on me— “know about loss and pain.”
I sucked in a breath.
“You know what can happen when things don’t go the way you want them to.” She broke eye contact, moving on to someone else. I sat, frozen, her words magnified in my ears.
“For those of you who’ve been there, the question is, what do you plan to do with your life? How much is a second chance worth to you?”
My eyes were damp, and I clapped hard, proud of the petite girl in a taffeta dress with patches of scalp showing through the black fuzz. I was humbled that this child had been through so much, faced death, and I was the one cowering back behind the scenes, letting go of my chance at a full life.
I met Clay’s eyes as his sister returned to their table. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be as brave as Cassidy Rippey. I’d mulled over my mom’s words most of the night, hating that Steve had won. Bethany’s threats were just as bad. With her, I was setting a precedent of letting her shame me. But only if I continued to let them.
I took a deep breath, stared down at my hands. Sometimes choices really were that simple. I wouldn’t let them.
The countdown was almost unbearable. Just ten more days, and I’d know enough to move forward with the plans I’d been considering. It was time. I needed to make my stand, take back my life.
Later, after the last speech by Aunt Briar thanking everyone for attending, the music kicked in. Asher pulled me out of my seat against my protests.
“Dance with Mom,” I suggested, trying to slide my hand from his.
“Trust me, Abbi. Dance with me.”
“Fine.” I sighed, glancing nervously at the cameras now pointed in my direction.
Dancing with Asher was fun. He knew how to waltz, telling me his mom made him take lessons when he was in middle school. I was laughing so hard at his story about stepping on some poor girl’s feet all night that I didn’t see Clay until he was right behind Asher. I stopped laughing but managed not to miss the next series of steps.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to dance with Abbi,” Clay said.
Asher stopped as the song ended and raised his eyebrow, waiting for me to make the decision. I gave a tiny nod, my eyes still trained on Clay.
“I’ll get your mom out on the floor. She should be willing now that she’s finished her glass of wine.”
Clay pulled me into his arms. Immediately, I felt safe. I dropped my gaze, trying to keep a reasonable distance between us.
“Thank you for saying yes. Would’ve been pretty embarrassing to be turned down in front of all the cameras. And your stepdad.” Clay swung me into a wide turn. We both smiled for the myriad flashes before slowly working our way into the middle of the half-filled dance floor.
“Who put you up to it?” I asked.
“Why would you think that?”
I looked up at him, waiting.
“Fine. Cassidy. She likes you. She wants us to be friends.”
“It that something you want?” I asked, my voice catching.
He met my eyes, looked into them deeply. “Yes. I do.”
“Your sister’s amazing,” I said, trying to break the seriousness of the moment.
Clay nodded, his eyes darting back to Cassidy, who was laughing at Colten’s attempts to lead the foxtrot. “The best of us, to be sure.”
“Your mom’s nice, too.”
“She told you something embarrassing about me, didn’t she?”
I laughed and shook my head. This conversation was nice—normal, even. “No. We just went over the schedule and then she asked me about my classes.”
“Good. She likes you, too. No reason to freak out.”
When my foot slid, Clay brought me a little closer—not enough to touch his front but enough for the heat from his
body to seep into mine. It was heady. Luscious. He smelled woodsy and male. I wanted to lay my head on his shoulder but managed to resist.
“Mmm. Not sure there’s any reason to be scared. Is there?”
“Of me? No.” He squeezed my fingers a little tighter. “I’d never hurt you, Abbi.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but things happen.”
We swung around the floor, the silence warm between us.
“I want to ask you something, but I’m afraid you’ll get upset. And I like hearing your laugh too much for that,” Clay said.
I tipped my head back and smiled at him. “Ask away.”
He squeezed my waist a little tighter. “I like seeing you happy.”
“I forgot how much I liked to dance.”
“You’re very good at it.” He smiled at me. “Makes me look good, too. So thanks.” He winked. “Why did you run away from me?” He asked, his voice low so it didn’t carry past us.
I swallowed, trying to get moisture back into my dry mouth. He held my hand even as it began to tremble. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“You know, Abbi, I think you lied to me.” His voice was soft, not accusing.
The song ended but Clay held on, pulling me even closer.
“I don’t lie, Clay. I hate liars.” I pressed my lips into a tight, thin line, wishing I could take back the vehemence of the words.
“Liars like Steve?” he asked, his voice nearly as gentle as his eyes.
But his grip on my waist and hand was firm, a reminder that he was here with me. What he didn’t know was how much I needed that reminder as I started to slide back into that night.
“Abbi. Stay with me.”
I blinked and forced air into my empty lungs. Cassidy would be brave enough to tell the whole truth. The words trembled on my lips, the shame just behind them.
“You can tell me. Anything.”
“I don’t remember,” I whispered.
His brow furled. “Remember what?”
“That night. I went to a party with a girl who was supposed to be my friend. We were in the same sorority. We hung out in the front room for a while. She left me, and I remember walking across campus.”
Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five Page 82
