It was the original reason I invited Specs, but we had such a good time together. He was attentive and funny and interesting to talk to. And he can do wicked things with his hands. Bringing Specs to the party was a way to get my parents’ attention, but now I just want his attention.
“No,” I say. “I invited him because I like him.”
My father’s expression turns thunderous. “He’s in a motorcycle club, Cassie. He wears a patched jacket and has numerous tattoos.”
“Yes.” I stick my chin out. “He also served for twelve years in the military, is a certified accountant, and runs all the finances for the various legitimate businesses the club owns. He’s kind and funny and loves books. If you could see past your own ass, you’d see that he’s a nice guy.”
My dad’s eyes widen. I’ve never spoken to him like that before, and I regret the disrespectful tone as soon as I’ve used it.
“You never used to speak like this, Cassie.”
“How would you know? You’re never around. You’re too busy planning parties and schmoozing with your business associates.”
He shakes his head. “The business relationships we have are what pays for this house, your nice clothes, and that college degree you’ve got.”
He clenches his fist, and a vein throbs in his neck. “As long as you’re under this roof that your mother and I pay for, you live by my rules. And I forbid you from seeing that man again.”
The air goes out of my lungs. I’ve never seen my dad so angry. But he’s being unreasonable.
If I have to choose between living with my parents, who don’t notice me, and Specs who makes me feel seen, then the choice is easy.
“Fine.” I fold my arms over my chest and school my expression to neutral. I don’t want Dad to get a hint of what I’m about to do or he might try to stop me.
His eyes narrow, and I don’t think he believes he won the argument that easily. He’s about to say something when his phone rings.
He looks at the screen. “I have to take this.”
Of course he does. It’s a business call, and despite being a Saturday morning, his business associates mean everything to him.
“But we’re not done here.” He glares at me before leaving the room. I hear his voice fade down the corridor as he takes the call.
My father’s given me an ultimatum, and there’s only one choice.
I pull out my small backpack from my wardrobe. I need to pack light, only what I can take on the back of a motorbike.
7
PAUL
Itake the mountain bends quicker than I should on my way to get to Cassie. She called twenty minutes ago in tears. I couldn't get the whole story out of her, but I got the message; she needs me.
Cassie’s waiting outside the gates when I pull up to her place. She's clutching a small rucksack to her chest that's bursting at the seams and has a laptop bag slung over her shoulder.
I pull up beside her and slide off the bike.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I'm fine. But please…” She glances furtively behind her. “Get me out of here.”
I've got so many questions, but there's an urgency to her voice, and the way she glances behind her makes me think her parents wouldn’t be happy to know I’m here stealing away their daughter.
“Will these fit in your saddlebag? I didn’t know how much I could take.”
She hands me her laptop bag and rucksack, which is heavier than I expected. I open the saddlebag and slide her laptop bag in, then try to cram in the rucksack. There’s not much give in it.
“What you got in here?”
She looks at me sheepishly. “Books.”
