Rock & Release

by Riley Edgewood

  Please don't let Katy be dead.

  Gage stops short, a few yards away from a couple my parents' age supporting each other with their arms, defeat across their expressions. The woman notices us, Gage's mother—I recognize her right away from Gage's pictures, and her face crumbles.

  Over her shoulder there's a sheet covering a body on a stretcher and Gage sees it the same time I do because in an instant he's on his knees. I drop down behind him, cocooning him in my arms the best I can. He's shivering against me and I squeeze him tighter, pressing my face into his back. His mother rushes toward us, the man—his stepfather, I think—following in her steps, and she drops down in front of Gage. "Katy wasn't in the car. She's okay."

  He doesn't process her words. "I told her not to go. I told her I'd be back. I —"

  "Gage." His stepfather's voice is sharp, demanding. He steps around Gage's mom and crouches down, grabbing Gage's shoulders. "Listen to me. It's not Katy. It's Darcy."

  I don't know who Darcy is, and I'm sorry for what happened to her—but at the same time, I'm almost lightheaded with the relief that floods me. It isn't Gage's sister under that sheet.

  "It's not Katy?" Gage's voice is hollow and he sounds so much like a little boy that my heart fragments, pieces dropping and cracking into shards on the pavement. I squeeze him a little harder. His stepfather rises, and Gage's mom does, too, turning into her husband's chest, still crying.

  "It's not Katy," I whisper against the back of his shirt. "It's not Katy."

  Tension flows out of his shoulders and he goes limp the moment the truth sinks in. He stands a moment later, pulling me up with him and holding tightly to my hand. "What happened?"

  "She was drunk," his stepfather says. "Darcy. Again. It caught up with her this time." His voice breaks at the end and he looks away, his expression pale and hollowed in the flashing lights around us.

  "Where is Katy?"

  "I don't know. She won't answer her phone."

  "Then how do you know she's all right?" He tenses again, his fingers clamping down on mine so hard I have to bite back a cry of pain.

  "She posted to Instagram a few minutes ago," his mom whispers, turning her face toward us. "I saw it on my phone. She took a picture of the moon."

  I glance up, finding the full circle shockingly bright in the dark sky above us, and wiggling the fingers of my now much-less-tightly held hand.

  Gage is reaching toward his mother, his voice strained. "I need to see it."

  But she left her phone in her car, parked forever away. And a moment later, Gage tenses again. His voice comes out strained. "She doesn't know about her mom yet?"

  Another piece of my heart falls, shattering against the crumbled ground at my feet. Darcy is Katy's mom. Katy's mom is dead and right now, somewhere, Katy's out there staring up at the sky and taking pictures of the moon.

  "Can you get my phone?" Gage looks at me, his expression still so completely broken I feel the sting of tears in my own eyes. I nod and retrieve it from his car.

  She doesn't answer when Gage calls, either. He pulls up her Instagram profile and studies the picture she posted. A second later, he's striding back to his car, saying over his shoulder, "I know where she is."

  "I'm sorry…for everything," I say, helplessly, to his parents, and then run to catch up with Gage.

  He grits his teeth so hard I can hear them grinding against each other. I want to help him; I want to make this better, but there's nothing that will. So I put my hand back on his leg and ride with him in silence, letting him keep to his own thoughts.

  A few minutes later, he speaks first. "Darcy called Katy twenty minutes before I picked you up. She was wasted, telling Katy if she was a good daughter she'd come get her. Christ, Katy doesn't even have her permit. Darcy has—had—alcohol issues." He laughs an angry snarl of a laugh and runs a shaky hand through his hair. "That's putting it so much more nicely than she deserves. She's a nasty alcoholic, abusive, too. Used to kick the shit out of Katy when Katy would stay with her on weekends." He pauses, staring straight out the windshield. "And now she's dead… I have to tell my sister her mother's dead."

  "I'm so sorry, Gage."

  "I can't believe I'm relieved about the death of another person, but I am." His voice hardens. "She'll never hurt my sister again." He looks at me now, his eyes flashing as if daring me to judge what he's said. But when I only tighten my grip a little on his leg, he continues.

  "She lied to Katy, said she'd been to rehab, said she was better." His words are jumbling together. I think he's in shock. I should probably drive, but I can't interrupt him. Not when he's letting it out like this. "But we knew she was lying, and when Katy went behind our backs to ask for proof to show us we were wrong, all Darcy gave her was a slap.

  "Even after that Darcy wormed her way back in—by getting Zoey to convince Katy to give her another chance. Zoey dropped her off. Left her there with Darcy in some beat-up apartment complex none of us even knew existed. Zoey didn't tell a soul. My parents were panicked when they couldn't find her. When Katy called me a few hours later to pick her up, she had a black eye and a split lip." He glances at me again, pleading with his eyes. And I finally get it. What she did. Oh, Zoey. You stupid, stupid girl. "I thought she finally learned that her mom isn't worth having in her life. But Katy…she still looks for reasons to let her back in."

  "It must be hard," I say, when he's paused for more than a moment, "to be fifteen with a mother like that. Any age, really."

  "She was looking for Darcy today, when I picked you up. She was trying to find her. What if she had, Cassidy? What if she… She could've been in…"

  "Hey. Look at me." And when he does: "She wasn't. She's okay."

  "She's not okay. Her mom's dead."

  There's nothing to say to lessen the sting of the truth.

  He's almost at Vera's. I don't know why it surprises me. Of course I can't go with him to break the news to Katy.

  "Will you be okay?" I ask, wanting to say, let me come with you. Let me help you. But going with him wouldn't make anything easier.

  "Yes." And when he drops me off, he grabs my hand again, squeezing. "Thank you."

  He doesn't tell me specifically he's thanking me for being here right now, for going through this with him, but I know it's what he means. I lean forward and kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry, Gage. And I'm so grateful Katy wasn't in the car."

  A small shiver goes through him, but he manages to nod.

  I make my way up the stairs to Vera's apartment, pausing a few flights up to look over the railing. He's still here, staring blankly out of the windshield.

  A moment later he drags a hand across his face and I see his shoulders rise with a deep breath. And then he backs out of the parking space and drives away to find his sister.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  It's no surprise I dream of Jason. I wake in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and climb out of bed. Thankful to have the apartment to myself, I turn on all the lights and watch TV until the sun rises.

  I can't stop thinking of Katy. I wonder how she's handling everything. But who could handle the news that their mother died?

  Thank God she has Gage. I have no doubt he's been by her side the entire night, making things easier… Or, at least, giving her permanent crying space on his shoulder. I consider texting him to let him know I'm thinking of them, but decide against it. This is their time. And there's no real way to respond to texts like that—I should know.

  By the time the apartment is bright with outside light, I'm starving and my mind is an absolute mess. I raid the cabinets, throwing together a bowl of cereal. While I'm eating, Luca comes to mind. Which surprises me. Because I haven't been thinking of him at all.

  Even before yesterday's trauma, he barely entered my mind while Gage drove me home. Well, except the one time I brought up sleeping with him, which—God—could I be any stupider? But cringe-inducing memory aside, it's telling, really. Luca was the perfect escape—because he made no real i
mpact on my heart.

  Cutting him lose is almost as easy as breathing. Especially right now, while I'm still wincing over what I said to Gage yesterday.

  Is it wrong that a very, very small part of me hopes the enormity of everything else Gage's going through makes him forget I ever said it?

  Yes, it is. So wrong. I need to stop hiding from my mistakes. And, God, that the thought even crossed my mind? There's so much self-improvement necessary here.

  Baby steps, though. First, I need to shower. And then I need to find Teagan.

  I remember I have twenty dollars in my car's console. Score. Ten bucks for gas and the rest for a drive-through meal on my way to Teagan's. BackBar will have to be my second stop, though, because otherwise I'll be running on fumes. Both with my car—and my ability to feed myself.

  Apprehension tugs at me when I park in front of Teagan's house. Even though I know she's home this time—I called her on my way—I dread any interaction with her grandparents. And when her grandmother comes to the door, glaring at me again, it takes everything I have not to flee. She lets me in, cigarette hanging from her mouth and I cover my own, politely, to smother a cough.

  "You know the drill," she says, jerking her head toward the stained carpet of the stairway.

  I thank her and rush up the steps, so eager to get away I get a splinter from sliding my hand along the railing. Usually I'm more careful. I open Teagan's bedroom door, sucking on my smarting finger.

  "I can't believe you left the tour." Teagan snaps a piece of gum in her mouth, eyebrows raised from where she sits on the edge of her twin-size bed.

  "Technically, the tour left me," I tell her. "But I was going to leave anyway."

  "Whatever." She motions to the armchair in the corner of her room. "Tell me everything."

  I drop into the chair—years of experience keep me from leaning too far to the right to avoid the needle-sharp end of a broken spring—and I tell her everything.

  Then, I bring up Norris.

  "He said you were special." I wink at her.

  She rolls her eyes. "I told you. It wasn't like that."

  "I know, I know." I raise my palms toward her in appeasement. "He also said you promised to talk to me about something."

  "Oh. That." She studies her nails, suddenly deep in concentration.

  "Teag." I wait for her to meet my gaze. "What's up?"

  She shrugs, her cheeks pink. "You already know. I have issues."

  But I've never really pushed her to talk about them. "Tell me. How are you feeling now?"

  "Kind of like punching you," she says, "to be honest."

  "For bringing this up?" I already know her answer. Issue number one? Anger. I keep my gaze neutral. No sign of pity—or the flare of irritation that she wants to punch me just for caring about her.

  "It's hard for me, when you're away at school and I'm stuck here." She spits the words out machine-gun quick and wiggles a finger through a hole in her bedspread, not meeting my eyes.

  "Teagan. I'm always a drive away—and I can come back more, on the weekends, too."

  She's lonely. And maybe upset she didn't take the college route. I almost suggest it's not too late, but she's always sworn she had no desire to go to college—and I don't want to overstep. Not yet, not when she's opening up the best she can.

  "I've felt…out of place in my skin since before high school ended." She shrugs off the weight of her words, still not looking at me. "I feel…disconnected. From myself. From everyone."

  I never knew. All this time, and I never knew how she felt. "Teagan. I—"

  "It's okay. It's just…" She sighs. "I'm trying to change—to be nicer."

  "Maybe you should try to figure out who you are, you know, under all that gorgeous skin," I suggest, my tone gentle.

  "One step at a time, okay?" She squares her shoulders, finally meeting my gaze. "For now, I'm working on not being such an automatic bitch. I even went to Vera's lame surprise party."

  "You went to that?" I hate even more that I missed it, now.

  "It was so stupid. Just a bunch of dumb college kids—sorry." She takes a deep breath. "Just a bunch of college kids. And her douchey boyfriend. And your Gage."

  "Not my Gage," I say. "But we're not talking about me."

  She grabs at my words like a lifeline, though. "Cassidy, he went to North Carolina for you. Twice. You stomped all over his heart, but there's no way he's not hoping you'll put it back together."

  "Maybe he only came because he's a decent person and I was stranded." I study my hands in my lap, weaving my fingers together to keep from covering my face. It's hard not to hide when I think about everything I've screwed up.

  "How do you explain the first time, then? He wanted to be with you then, which was what? Three days ago? Not enough time has passed for that to really change. You're sorry. It's ridiculously clear how sorry you are. He might need to lick his wounds, but it's still there. The wanting to be with you. I don't know him, really at all, but I know he wants you."

  "I don't want to give up," I admit. "But I can't think about it right now. He's got enough going on without me making his life harder."

  "Does he at least know you're thinking of him?"

  "I was going to text him, but then I remembered how awkward it was to respond to all the texts I got after everything with Jason, and…it felt wrong."

  "What if nobody had texted you?" she asks. "Feeling awkward is better than feeling like nobody cares."

  "But I hated those people, a little bit," I admit. "That they could send a sympathy message and then just go on with their lives. Not you, of course," I assure her. "But almost everybody else."

  "And why not me?" she asks as though she already knows the answer. As she should.

  "Because you're not just some acquaintance."

  "Exactly." She shrugs. "And you're more than that to Gage, too."

  It's the truth. No matter what he thinks of me now, I'm not just an acquaintance. I was there when he found out. I held him through the worst of it.

  I tilt my head, studying her. "When did you get so wise?"

  "Probably while you were off wasting your time on a higher education." But she smiles as she says it, and her usual bite is nowhere around.

  "Okay. Enough about me." I want to ask more about her, more about how she's trying to change—and, mostly, about why she feels so angry all the time—but when I open my mouth there's a glint in her eyes telling me I've already gotten more than she wanted to share. So I leave it. For now. Because it's a start, and I have a feeling it's one we'll be able to move forward from. Slowly.

  I text Gage at a red light on my way to BackBar. I wish I had the right words, I type, knowing firsthand there are no right words. Just know that I care and that you and Katy are in my thoughts.

  He doesn't respond, but I don't expect him to.

  The BackBar parking lot is almost empty, just a few scattered cars resting in the sun. I'm arriving well before even the early shift will start. But managers arrive even earlier than this. Jared's gone, so it will be Zach I speak with. Part of me thinks it'd be easier to talk to Jared because I care so much less what he thinks of me.

  But I square my shoulders and compose myself, and then I enter through the employee side entrance, which, thankfully, is open. I expect Zach to be in the manager's office, but he's sitting at one of the high-rise cocktail tables in front of the deck stage where Gage usually performs. His back is to me, but Clark is sitting across the table from him and sees me right away.

  "Hey, girl." He waves, and Zach turns to look at me, too. I can't read his expression, but at least he isn't scowling the way I'm sure Jared would be.

  I stride toward them, trying to force confidence I don't feel into each step, trying to show the remorse I actually do feel in my expression. It's not an easy combination to master, and I'm pretty sure I don't pull it off.

  "Hey." When I reach them, I stand awkwardly behind a chair positioned between the two. At least it gives me some place to pu
t my hands. I grip the back of the seat a little harder than necessary. "Zach…may I speak with you for a moment?"

  He nods, but Clark laughs and says, "She's come to beg her job back." Then he winks at me and I kind of want to kill him.

  Zach raises an eyebrow, questioning if it's true, and I nod, feeling my cheeks flush. "If there's anything I can… I'll do whatever it takes."

  "You left without giving notice. Not even a word."

  "I'm sorry." I grip the chair harder. "I have no excuse, but if you'll take me back I'll work double shifts. I'll clean the bathrooms every night. I'll do whatever you ask, no complaints."

  He doesn't respond. An entire summer passes in the pause, and I know he's going to tell me to get lost.

  Then Clark says, "Remember me, with Dave the asshole Montana? And when you broke up with Nicole and she dropped off the grid and went a little crazy? We've all made bad choices—and it's not like this place burned down while Cassidy was gone."

  When Zach's expression warms from disappointment to something more contemplative, I change my mind about killing Clark. Instead, I kind of want to kiss him. And…now I get why Zach and Nicole are so secretive about whatever's going on with them. Sounds like the first time they were together it ended horribly.

  Zach studies me a second longer, and I wonder if he's remembering that I know his secret. Finally, he sighs. "Fine. Lucky for you, Zoey quit and Gage has the week off. So we're short. But this is a trial, you understand? Don't make me regret it."

  "Thank you." I nod, a little stunned that he's actually giving me a chance. Also, Zoey quit? A tiny bit of relief trickles through me. Then I push it aside and look at Clark. "Thank you, too."

  He waves it off, though. "You owe me all the dirty details about Luca James. And I mean all of them."

  I laugh, but I won't be sharing a thing. Luca James is in my past. That's where he's going to stay.

  Still, driving home, I feel lighter than I have in ages. Especially when I glance at my phone and find a text message from Gage. All it says is, Thanks, Cassidy.