She trailed after me as I headed toward the entrance.
Tristan bumped into me before I got inside. He tilted his head back, giving me a curious look. He was the quintessential star high school quarterback, prom king prototype. It only made me want to punch him more.
“Where is your babysitter?”
“Kennedy? She’s with her dad, tonight.” He pushed my shoulder again, meeting my eyes. “That means if you fuck up, there’s nobody to call me off you.”
I scoffed. “Good. Then I’ll get a chance to fuck up that face of yours this time.”
Sophie caught up and wrapped her arms around my waist, peeking her head out from behind me. “Cass… are you picking fights again?”
“Not with him.” I looked inside toward Clint and felt everything in me go rigid. I wanted to rip his arm off, and I had no idea why.
Tristan followed my gaze, then laughed. “Been there, man. Careful.”
I squinted at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He just tapped his temple and grinned. “It means I’m reading you like a book right now, and I’m going to enjoy watching this play out.”
I shook my head, then worked my way free of Sophie to head inside Dead Ringers. I walked up to Charli, Clint, and Zoe, not really knowing what I planned to do or say.
Clint was holding a fry up to Charli’s mouth. She bit it and pulled it back, trying to eat it without her hands and laughing.
Seeing her happy pissed me off. That was it.
“Babe, you said you were hungry. Shouldn’t we—” Sophie’s voice faded into background noise.
I tapped Clint on the shoulder. He looked up at me, and before he could remember to be tough in front of the girls, I saw a flicker of fear pass over his eyes. “Yeah?” he asked.
“I’m going to hit you, so you can either stand up and defend yourself, or sit there and take it like a bitch. It’s your call.”
“Cass—” I put my hand out, shutting Sophie up. I saw it all in a moment of clarity then. All she’d been was a pathetic attempt to distract myself. But Charli didn’t deserve an ounce of my mercy. She deserved to watch the happy little life she was trying to build here turn to ash on her tongue.
Clint stood, squaring up with me even though he had to know he stood no chance. He was built, but he wasn’t on my level. I was taller, thicker, stronger.
Charli got up and tried to shove me from the side. “Cassian, this is embarrassing. For you. Just let it go. I don’t care about you or what you do. What is it, are you jealous? You can’t stand the idea of seeing that I actually like someone other than you?”
Clint forgot I was about to murder him long enough to raise his eyebrows at Charli. “You do like me?”
That was enough. I thought about punching him. Shoving him. Maybe even kicking him in the nuts so even thinking about putting his cock near her would physically hurt him.
But what he needed was to be reminded he was nothing.
My arm snapped out before he so much as flinched. I gripped his neck and drove him to the ground, climbing on top of him so I could put my weight into it. Distantly, I felt Charli hitting at me and sensed the way everyone in the diner was staring. Zoe joined in, trying to pry my arm free of Clint’s neck. Three pairs of arms all tugged at me while Clint stared back with wide, frightened eyes.
I didn’t let go. I squeezed until I thought something in his neck might break.
I wanted the destruction.
Not just of him.
In that moment, all I wanted was fire. I wanted the sweet pain to consume everything. I wanted it all to go up in smoke.
Strong arms wrapped around my neck and yanked me backwards. I didn’t let go of Clint’s neck, so he got dragged to a sitting position before they could pry me off him. I was yanked up to my feet. I shook out of their grasp and turned.
Tristan was watching me with no emotion in his eyes. He shook his arms out, straightening his shirt and jacket. His voice was low enough that only I could hear, even though the entire diner had gone deadly silent, except Clint’s hacking coughs and Zoe and Charli’s murmured words to him.
“You really want to murder someone and ruin your life tonight, Cassian?” Tristan’s tone said the question wasn’t rhetorical. Almost like he was offering me the chance to go back and finish what I’d started.
I clenched my jaw, then looked back to Clint and the small crowd of people gathered around him. I almost didn’t even notice Charli rushing toward me. I could’ve stopped her from slapping me, but I let her this time. I heard the sound before I felt the hot sting on my cheek.
Her eyes blazed with tears as she stared up at me. She slapped me again.
Then again.
Finally, Zoe came to stop her from hitting me more—probably only because she was worried I’d try to hurt Charli next.
I waited, watching the emotions play across Charli’s face.
“Why? What the hell did I ever do to you? You keep talking like I ruined your life? My mom died and we lost everything. We left Silver Falls and my life has been shit ever since.” She shrugged free of Zoe’s arms and gave me a shove in the chest. “What did I do to you?”
I felt the realization sink in. Did she really not know? Was it possible she didn’t remember, or that nobody had told her?
“What do you remember about the night of the fire?” My voice was cold and emotionless.
“Enough.” The tears that had been threatening to fall streaked down her cheeks now, but she wasn’t wiping them or looking away.
“Tell me,” I grated.
She took a few steadying breaths, then spoke. The entire diner was listening, but I didn’t care. From the look on the face of the owner, he was calling the police on me, too. I had no doubt my stepfather would massage that problem with his wallet and found myself failing to give a shit.
“I remember waking up because I was coughing.” She spoke slowly, just louder than a whisper. “My door handle was so hot it burned my hand, so I used my blanket to go into the hallway. There was so much fire… I went to my parent’s room. The floor was on fire. It didn’t make sense at first, but it was the floor. Like grass made out of flames, I remember. And on top of it all was my mom’s bed. She was right there, and I was too scared to go to her. Too scared to leave.”
She stopped, staring at something distant.
“And then what?” I prodded.
“That’s enough,” Zoe said. “You’ve done more than enough, okay? Just leave us alone and wait for the cops to come arrest your ass.”
“It’s enough when I say it is,” I snapped. “What else?”
Charli glared, but continued. “I remember wondering where dad was. I found out later he’d fallen asleep on the couch, watching TV. He couldn’t get to the stairs because of the flames. Then I heard someone calling for me to come with them, and I don’t remember anything else. I guess I blacked out.”
“Who called for you?”
“I don’t remember. A firefighter, maybe? All I know is dad packed me into the car as soon as we left the hospital. He took us out of the state and said we should never look back. That’s all I know.”
I stared in disbelief. She really didn’t know.
“You never wondered which firefighter might live close enough to get there so quickly?”
Charli looked confused for a few seconds, then her eyes went wide and fresh tears spilled out.
Before she could say anything, blue and red lights flashed through the windows, highlighting the inside of the diner. I took a few steps back, shaking my head, then headed out to meet the cops.
* * *
Before
* * *
I tried not to make too much noise when I came inside, but my dad heard me anyway.
“Bud? Is that you?” My dad’s voice rang deep from the living room, and I heard his footsteps coming.
There was no hiding it, then. I straightened my back and tried not to let the pain show. I may only be seven, but I could act like a
man, too.
He stopped when he saw me, kneeling to gentle touch the raw skin on my knuckles. “What did you do, son?”
My stomach sank at the look on his face. It wasn’t supposed to be a bad thing. I’d protected Charli. Just like him. I’d put myself in danger to save her, and I’d expected him to be proud.
“They hurt Charli.” My voice sounded weak and pathetic.
“So you hurt them?” He cupped my jaw, forcing me to meet his eyes.
My dad was a strong man. He had big, powerful arms and a dark beard that dusted his cheeks and chin. He was the kind of man people respected at a glance. “That’s not my son. Do you hear me? My son doesn’t fight people. He doesn’t hurt people.”
I’d never talked back to my dad, but I felt indignation rising up in me. “But they hurt her first. They made her fall off her bike. If I didn’t do something, they might do it again.”
He rocked back to sit on his heels. With his hands planted on his thighs, he sighed. “There’s the wrong thing and the right thing. And then there’s something in between. What you did was something in between, do you understand? But you let yourself float in the middle long enough, and you might not catch yourself before you wind up on the wrong side.”
I nodded my head, even though I didn’t think I understood.
His expression finally softened, and he had me follow him to the kitchen. He pulled out a bag of frozen peas from the fridge and asked me to hold my knuckles against it. “Too much willpower and not enough restraint. That’s your problem, Cassian. But we all have problems. What makes us the people we are is how willing we are to work on them.”
I remembered thinking a long time about that conversation we’d had because it was one of our last. It had only been a few days later when I’d woken up and smelt the faint scent of smoke wafting through my window. When I’d stepped outside and seen the way the sky glowed orange.
13
Cassian
I stretched my neck when the police officer came and unlocked my cell. I’d been somewhat surprised that my stay behind bars lasted nearly three days. It was long enough to make me miss the football game and a few days of school. Long enough to have to meet with a lawyer, even. But then word came that Clint’s family wasn’t pressing charges. Then more word came that our sheriff, who was up for reelection and in need of all the campaign funding he could get, had decided there was no reason to ruin a bright young future like mine.
I’d had plenty of time to wonder what I would’ve done if Tristan hadn’t pulled me back, and to tell the truth, I still didn’t know.
I’d only seen red. Like pure rage. As if every fucked up thing in my life could be undone if I just squeezed his neck hard enough.
Walter wore a white button-down shirt with a dark blue trim on his cuffs and collar on the day he came to collect me. I’d always thought it was a douchey look, and the way he had his sleeves sloppily rolled up wasn’t helping. He raked a hand through his gray hair and then slapped my back like we were “in this together,” or some shit.
“What’d that cost you?” I asked.
He made a dismissive gesture. For him, getting me out of trouble was more about proving how connected and powerful he was than helping me. It was a demonstration. That’s all life was when you had enough money. Acts of power and influence. Little fleeting attempts to dig some meaning out of an otherwise pointless existence. It was something to make my mom jump on him tonight and remember how wise she’d been to shack up with a geezer. “Nothing I couldn’t afford.”
I got in his car—a Royce with his personal driver. Walter sat beside me and made a show of sighing and opening himself up for conversation as the car rolled away from the station.
“We lost our tempers a little, huh? Want to talk about it?”
No, Walter. We don’t.
He nodded, as if I’d confided something in him. “You know, sport, there’s no shame in therapy. Hell, when I nearly went under on that Caldwell deal a few years back, I practically lived in my therapist’s office. It helps, and there’s no shame in it.”
I let my forehead thump against the window. I briefly considered reaching to the front seat and steering the car into the nearest tree, just because it’d get me out of this conversation sooner.
“I caught the game on Friday. That Tristan Blackwood is a hell of a QB, huh?”
I blinked. “I’m curious, Walter. When you fought as a kid, was it with fists, or did you just throw stacks of money at each other?”
He frowned. I thought he was about to throw another placating line at me—some regurgitated remains of his therapy sessions. Instead, I saw maybe the first real flash of anger as his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m trying, Cassian. Your mother thinks our marriage is causing you to act out, so I’m doing my fucking best to be a good stepfather. But my patience has limits.”
“Good. I’d respect you more if you weren’t such a fucking pushover all the time.”
He laughed.
Surprised by his reaction, I found myself grinning slightly. “And if you didn’t dress like that. Suspenders? You look like the wolf of Sesame Street or some shit.”
Walter self-consciously tugged at one of his suspender straps. “Believe it or not, I don’t dress to impress teenaged kids.”
“And who are you trying to impress, then? The bingo crowd at the local retirement home?” I pinched the sleeve of his baggy dress shirt and lifted it.
It turned out that Walter’s backbone had its limits, and he spent the rest of the ride home slightly red-faced and quiet.
I still wouldn’t have pissed on him if he was on fire, but I had to give the old geezer a little credit. Maybe there was hope for him, after all.
We drove past Dead Ringers on the way to our house, and my mind flashed with the memory from a few nights back. I still felt my blood get hot when I pictured Clint with his arm around Charli. I could see him lifting the French fry to her mouth, like he was fucking feeding her.
I gripped the door handle of the car until my fingertips went numb with pain.
By nearly killing the asshole, I assumed all I’d actually accomplished was pushing them closer. I bet Charli was kneeling at his bedside and pressing ice packs to his tender neck.
But I hoped she felt a chill of dread when she saw my fingerprints on his skin—the red and bruised marks I had no doubt were there.
The mark would be a reminder to both of them. A reminder of what was going to happen if I saw them together again.
14
Charli
It was a school holiday, but dad still had work. I’d stared at the text for at least twenty minutes, taken it through multiple drafts, and then finally hit send. Granted, I did try in a blind panic to find out if there was a way to “unsend” a text just a few moments later.
I’d invited Clint to come to my house. I wasn’t sure if he wanted anything to do with me after Cassian’s antics the other night. I’d gone and visited him at the hospital, but he was too drugged up to really seem to notice. Cassian had bruised his windpipe. A little more pressure, the doctor said, and he could’ve done permanent damage.
Just the thought of it made me rage inside. I was still coming to terms with what he’d told me, but I couldn’t excuse anything he’d done. I’d asked Zoe if she knew anything about what he said, and she’d told me everyone just assumed I already knew. Unsurprisingly, nobody had decided to bring up the fact that my mom and Cassian’s dad had died in the same fire, or that Cassian’s dad probably wouldn’t have died if I had been willing to leave my mom’s side.
The part Cassian hadn’t mentioned was how he’d apparently been the one to finally pull me from the house. At seven years old, he’d charged into the flames that my own father was too afraid to step into and he’d found me. He dragged me free of the house and went back to look for his father.
The fire was something I’d understood my whole life. At least, I thought I had. Now there were all these new pieces to the puzzle. New reasons to feel
guilty and shitty about it. To feel like it really was my fault like my dad always wanted me to believe.
I was grateful when Clint’s knock came at my door, because it pulled me from my downward, spiraling thoughts.
He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows when I opened the door for him. He gave me a quick hug that was just a second too long to be strictly platonic. At least, that was what my desperate mind wanted to think.
When he pulled back, I got a fresh glimpse at his neck, which made my skin tingle with little pinpricks of guilt. It was a purple and black replication of Cassian’s huge hand.
I swallowed, feeling a sudden darkness wash over me, as if Cassian’s presence had swooped in through the open door like a cold, biting wind.
I reached past Clint and pulled the door closed, smiling. “So, I feel like I owe you an apology.”
He frowned. “What? No. I mean, seriously. This is the first time a guy has ever tried to choke me over a girl, but you’re totally worth it.”
Butterflies exploded in my stomach. We’d been dancing around the edge of calling the growing flirtation between us what it was. Now, I felt like he’d given it a name. I was the girl he fought Cassian over.
“He’s an asshole,” I blurted.
Clint slid a backpack off his shoulder and set it on the couch, making himself comfortable. Once I saw his crisp clothes and expensive looking backpack on our ratty couch, it occurred to me that I should be ashamed of the hovel I lived in.
I wanted to look natural, so I moved over to sit beside him, close enough that our thighs touched. I also had no idea what to do once you invited a guy over. Was he going to expect us to just start making out, or something? Were we supposed to watch a movie? Play board games?
Clint answered my question when he pulled a comedically large bottle of liquor and some red cups out of his backpack. “I brought the party.” He grinned, getting up to search the fridge. “Have any soda in here?”
Savage Love Page 6
