“Mellie’s not going. You didn’t tell her she needed a babysitter.”
“Frankly, I think you both might.”
Cassie rolled her eyes. At fourteen and sixteen, they were old enough to stay by themselves for one evening. And with the fear of Tabitha haunting them, she had a hard time believing either would step so much as a toe out of line. Time to intervene.
“I can stay home with them.” She stepped into the room and was met by three equally different emotions.
Relief. Indecisiveness. Contempt.
“There.” Irene shifted slightly toward Cassie. “An adult who will stay with us. I’m going to be in my room doing homework anyway.” She glanced at her father. “You know I have that huge history paper due on Monday and it’s not finished.”
“She does,” Ken agreed, earning him a blistering look from Tabitha.
“I really don’t mind. I was coming over to tell you I didn’t think I’d make it to the meeting myself.” Cassie shrugged. “I’m not feeling up for it.”
“But this is a planning meeting for this winter’s toy drive,” Tabitha said through her teeth. “It’s important.”
Cassie decided not to mention she might not be around in three months. “My presence tends to distract people from the task at hand. I think it might be best if I just stay home for this one. Mellie and I can watch movies.” The more she thought about it, the better the idea. “I can bake a pizza and we’ll be fine. Irene can do her homework, and we’ll just have a quiet night at home.”
“But—”
“Yes,” Ken said firmly. For the first time, Cassie witnessed her father stepping into the role of head of the house. “That’s fine. Tabitha, I said that’s fine,” he continued when she started to speak. “Irene and Mellie are both responsible girls, and Cassie has given us no reason not to trust her.”
“But she—”
“Shared some clothes with her sisters. Maybe she should have asked you, but it was harmless and nothing bad came of it.” Ken nodded at Cassie. “If you want to stay home, that would be just fine. I’ll tell Rose she can head out for the night.”
Ken walked out of the room, though it seemed a little more like a tactical retreat to Cassie’s mind. The level of seething estrogen in one small space was probably too much for his male mind to handle.
Tabitha took one small step forward. “Please do not misunderstand me. My daughters are everything to me. And I have serious reservations about whether your influence is a good thing for them. Do not make me regret letting my husband lead me in this.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving nothing but a whiff of Chanel scent in her wake.
“So . . . that went well.” She grinned at Irene, but the girl wasn’t in the smiling mood. “You sure you have to do homework? Mellie and I would love company.”
Irene hesitated, rubbing her upper arm for a moment, then shook her head. “The paper’s a big one. I need to get it done.”
“Sure. Of course. Need any help?”
Irene shook her head again, then left without saying another word. Cassie heard her run up the stairs, then her door close.
“Well, okay then. That went well, too.” She clapped her hands together and headed back toward the family room, thrilled at the idea of spending time with Mellie unguarded. “Mellie, we’ve got some serious choices to make. Legally Blonde marathon, or Jane Austin film festival?”
* * *
Two and a half hours later, nearly comatose with a good third of a large pizza sitting in her belly, Cassie wriggled on the couch. “Stop, you’re pushing me off.”
Mellie laughed and nearly unseated them both. They were lying with their heads on either side of the couch watching as John Willoughby swept Marianne Dashwood into his arms in the rain. “Sorry. It’s just so romantic.” She draped one arm out to the side with dramatic flair. “‘May I have your permission to ascertain if there are any breaks?’ Swoon.”
Cassie resisted spoiling the fact that John Willoughby was not, in fact, the man for Marianne. “Don’t expect guys at school to use lines like this. And if they do, run. They’re just stealing movie quotes. Pick a guy with his own material.”
Mellie turned again, pushing Cassie closer to the edge. “Thanks for staying home.”
“You’re welcome. But, do you guys always have someone home with you? I mean, you’re fourteen, and Irene’s sixteen. Isn’t that old enough to stay home alone? Most kids are babysitting for toddlers at that age.”
Mellie rolled her eyes and messed with her ponytail. The blonde tuffs of hair sticking out everywhere made Cassie smile. “Mom worries about us, like, all the time. It’s hard to breath around it. Like, suffocating or something. You know?”
She did know, and understood Ken and Tabitha were lucky to have two girls whose major rebellion had been wearing shorts and a tank top to the mall. “You’ll get your freedom, don’t worry. Once you hit college, you’ll be overwhelmed with choices and the ability to make them. It’s cool and frightening all at the same time.”
“What’s it like, living entirely on your own? You’ve got an apartment back in Georgia, right? Or a house?”
“Apartment. Sometimes it’s great. Other times, it’s lonely. When I feel like that, I make Anya—my best friend—come over. Or I swing by my mom’s for dinner. She’s always making more food than she can eat herself. Habit, she says.”
“That’s nice.” Mellie smiled a little. “Do you get along with your mom?”
“We do now. There were some rough teenage years, but most teens have that.” She took a deep breath. “Your mom loves you, Mellie. She’s just a worrier by nature, I think. It overwhelms her, and she responds by holding tighter to you two. But it’s out of love.”
“Doesn’t make it any easier to breathe,” Mellie mumbled. But she seemed to accept the answer, and turned to watch the Colonel gaze at Marianne longingly.
Cassie’s phone beeped with a text, and she decidedly ignored it. But then it beeped again. And again. Either someone was being rude, or someone needed her. She felt down around the floor for the phone she’d dropped, then checked the display. “Why is your sister texting me from upstairs?”
“Because she’s lazy,” was Mellie’s automatic response, not taking her eyes from the screen. “If she wants pizza, she has to come down and get it herself.”
“Agreed,” Cassie said, then unlocked her phone’s screen.
Cassie? I need help.
She sat up, moved on to the next two texts.
Please answer. Please.
Please please please answer.
As she read the last text, one more appeared.
I’m so sorry. Please.
She jumped up, jostling Mellie on the couch with a shriek, and ran to the stairs, taking them two at a time. When she reached Irene’s bedroom, she knocked once, then went in without waiting for a response.
Empty.
Shit. Bathroom? She checked, but the hall bathroom was open, showing an empty room.
“Irene?” she called, but nobody answered. Jogging back downstairs, she did a quick search of the house. Then checked the backyard, though in her gut, she knew that would be pointless. “Shit. Irene!”
Nothing.
Mellie walked to her, soda in hand. “What happened?”
“Your sister’s gone,” Cassie said flatly. “And I’m going to murder her.” She texted back a quick, Where are you?
The response was almost immediate, as if she’d been waiting for the question and had the answer already typed out to send.
Bar on Casey Drive.
Then . . .
I’m sorry. Please come get me.
“Yup. I’m going to murder your sister.” Mellie’s eyes widened, and she clutched her soda bottle so tight it crackled under her fingers. “Not really. You know I’m being sarcastic, right?”
Mellie nodded, and kept nodding like a dashboard bobblehead.
“I need you to do me a favor. This is part of that whole growing up thing.
You’ve got to stay here, and keep your cell phone by your side. Do not leave this house for anything. Got it?”
Mellie kept nodding.
“Phone. Show it to me.”
She pulled it out of her jeans pocket, handed it to Cassie.
Cassie took it and inputted Trey’s number, saving it only as “T.” “If I don’t call or text you in the next thirty minutes with an update, you call this number and tell him Cassie needs help. Got it?”
Once more, Mellie nodded. Cassie gripped her shoulders. “There’s no reason to worry, okay? Everything is fine. Your sister just has horrible timing to break out the teenage rebellion act.”
“She’s in big trouble, isn’t she?” Mellie asked with a whisper, her eyes tearing up.
“Not yet,” Cassie said, hoping it was true. “Not if I can help it. But you have to do your part. Keep the doors locked.”
“What if Mom and Dad come home?”
“You tell them the truth. Don’t lie.” She thought for a moment. “But text me if you see them coming up the drive.”
She started to argue, but Cassie hugged her. “I’m a big girl, Mellie. I can handle the fallout.” She hoped. Then she let go, darted out the side door and toward the pool house. Collecting her purse and car keys, she sent another text to Irene, asking the bar’s name. Then she told her to stay put, keep quiet, and she’d be there as soon as she could.
Forcing herself to drive the normal speed limit was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
Chapter Twenty
Trey finished another set of weights and waited for Josiah’s help to rack them. The impromptu workout at a dump of a gym where the other hard bodies focused on their workouts and not one another wasn’t doing much to keep his mind off Cassie. But it was a hell of a way to punish himself for his lack of self-control in the mental department.
“I’m not even writing that set down,” Josiah said, leaning over the bar. “That was total crap.”
“You do better.”
“Pretty sure a third grader could do better.”
Trey agreed, in theory. But the principle and pride demanded he push Josiah’s arm off the bar.
Trey’s phone rang where it sat on the ground with his towel and water bottle. He checked the display, saw it was Cassie, and fought a momentary battle on whether to answer or not.
“Trey, come on.” His friend’s voice was pleading. “I know you like her, but can we not just get through a workout first?”
Like her? No, like was such a pale, insubstantial word. He loved her, no doubt about it. But even love didn’t mean he had to jump every time she phoned. He hit the decline call button and stood. “Your set. How much you want on it?”
The phone buzzed with a text, but he didn’t check. Stuffing the phone in his cargo shorts pocket, he added additional weight for Josiah and spotted him a set of fifteen bench presses. In his pocket, the phone buzzed nonstop.
As they racked the bar, Josiah looked disgusted. “Just text her and tell her you’ll call later. I can’t listen to your pants vibrate the rest of the night.”
“Sorry if it makes you horny.” He darted out of punching range and checked his phone. Seven texts in a row, and two missed calls. He opened the last text, meaning to just use the reply function to send a quick note, when he actually read the message.
Emergency.
That was all. Scrolling quickly through the rest of the messages, they all said something similar. Call her now. She needed him. She was scared. Please call back.
Fucking damn it. She was panicking and he’d sent her call to fucking voicemail. At Josiah’s questioning glance, he held up a hand and dialed her number. She answered, breathing heavily.
“Cassie, what’s wrong?” The urgency in his voice must have signaled to Josiah it was more serious than “I miss you, snuggle bunny.” He rushed over to stand and listen.
“It’s Irene,” she said, choking on the words. “I was babysitting the girls—”
“Babysitting? They’re teenagers.”
“Not important,” she snapped. “I was babysitting and Irene was upstairs and then she wasn’t and she snuck out and I don’t know how she did it but she managed to get downtown and she says she’s at a bar on Casey Drive, but she didn’t say what bar and she’s not answering her phone now.”
Irene couldn’t be even eighteen. No way she should be at a bar. And Casey Drive wasn’t the nicest part of town, either. “Okay, so are you at the house? Where are you?”
“I’m parked on E Street because I can’t find Casey Drive. My GPS keeps telling me to turn the wrong way down one-way streets, and then I think I’ve found it but it’s not right. And I don’t know which bar . . .” She hiccupped, and he could all but taste the fear she was battling down. “I don’t know what to do. And I can’t call Ken . . . not yet. And she’s not answering her phone!”
“I’m coming. Josiah and I are coming. We know where that is. Just . . . keep trying. Turn the GPS off and on again, see if it gives you a new route. But don’t get out of the car until we get there.” It would take them at least twenty minutes, maybe longer depending on traffic. “Slow the breathing down, honey. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”
She let out a little choked sob, as if she’d tried and couldn’t make it happen.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He grabbed the bag Josiah thrust at him, trusting his friend had gathered all their things, and followed him out. “Is your phone on speaker?”
“Yes. I was pulled over when I texted you, but then I tried again to find it and now I’m just going in circles I think.”
“Hold tight. We’re coming.” He didn’t bother saying good-bye, just followed his friend to Josiah’s hybrid SUV and hopped in the passenger seat. When push came to shove, Josiah was the cooler head, and would be the more effective driver. “Thanks man.”
“Not a problem.” He backed out of the parking spot and drove onto the main road. “Sorry about earlier. I feel like an ass now, telling you to ignore her.”
“I would have done it anyway, but yeah. I know.” He rubbed a hand down his face, taking some cold sweat with him. Lifting the hem of his T-shirt, he dried his face and neck the best he could. “She’s terrified.”
“She’s smart,” Josiah corrected. “And she’s letting fear block her mind from firing on all cylinders. If she can just calm down for a few minutes, she’ll be okay.”
Trey let his head fall back and closed his eyes. “She’ll take the fall for it. Watch. Anything Coach and his wife throw at Irene, she’ll step in front of.”
“She’s a good big sis. She loves her family.”
“Yeah, she does.” The longer he was with her, the more he wanted to be a part of the ones she considered family. “I’m gonna try Stephen. If he’s closer to downtown, he might get there before us.” He texted his friend, and was thankful when his friend texted back he was in that general area and would head right over. Trey asked to him to keep an eye on both Cassie and her sister until he arrived.
“Thank you, Stephen,” he muttered and dropped his phone in the cup holder.
“What was he doing down in that area? Not much around there but tattoo places and bars.” Josiah made a sharp turn, still controlled but a little edgier than he normally might make.
“I don’t know. He was able to text in complete sentences and with no errors. I’m hoping that means he was just closer to the area than we were. But either way, I’ll take it.”
* * *
Cassie, having disobeyed Trey’s order to stay in the car by asking a gas station clerk for directions, pulled up to the second of two supposed bars on Casey Drive.
Please, God, let this be the one.
She locked the car and headed toward the front bar door, stopping short when she saw a huddled figure sitting next to the front step. She was impossible to miss, sticking out like a slightly wilted rose among the weeds. In her shorts, one of Cassie’s tank tops she must have hidden from her mother, and flip-flops, w
ith her head on her knees and arms around her legs, she looked so young. So impossibly innocent and scared.
Also impossible to miss was the large man sitting on the porch next to her. He was talking, though she couldn’t hear what he was saying. Acting like it was no big deal to be just chatting with a teenager on the front step of a bar, leaning back on his elbows like a man who had nowhere else to be. Stephen. She breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“Irene.”
Her sister’s head snapped up, wide-eyed and tear-stained. Mascara clumped her eyelashes and streaked down her cheeks. “Cassie?” She jumped down and, to Cassie’s shock, threw her arms around her in a desperate hug.
Not willing to let the moment pass, Cassie hugged her back. “Thank God you’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” her sister sobbed into her neck. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” She was being harder on herself than Cassie ever could have been. “Okay. Shh. You didn’t drive here, did you?”
“N-no.”
“How did you get here?”
“A boy from school picked me up. I walked out to the road to meet him.” She shuddered. “I thought he wanted to take me out, but he just wanted to see if I could get him and his friends into the bar using Dad’s name.”
“Little shithead,” Cassie muttered, and had Irene choking on another sob. “Sorry.” She rubbed her sister’s back. “Here. Go sit in my car while I talk to Stephen. Okay? Lock the doors, and do not get out. No matter what. Okay? You can turn it on and get the AC going.”
She nodded, wiping at a trailing tear with her wrist. She took the keys Cassie offered and walked to the car, about thirty yards away in the tiny parking lot.
With a sigh, and about thirty pounds of stress melting off her shoulders, she went to sit next to Stephen. “Thanks.”
He knocked shoulders with her. “No problem.”
He smelled a little like beer, but she wasn’t sure if that was actually him, or just the booze-soaked porch. The thing was probably permanently stained with the scent of barley and hops. “How long have you been here?”
“About ten minutes.” At her questioning look, he said, “Trey called. I was closer than he was, so I hopped over to see if I could help.”
One Night with a Quarterback Page 22
