Page 85 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

It never does, anymore.

“Yeah. Okay.” I can’t help but wonder if she’s telling the truth, or if she’d been looking for any excuse to be away from home again. “When will you be back? Maybe when you’re back we could…”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to disappoint you.” She murmurs something to someone, and at their request for her ticket, I realize she’s at the airport. “I won’t be back until the first week of November.”

“What?” My stomach twists and I open my eyes. “The first week of…Mom that’s like, three weeks away. You told me you weren’t going to stay away that long anymore, after last year.” I hate how defensive I sound.

And worse, I hate how she makes me feel.

“I know and I’m sorry. But the London office really does need me, Winnie. We can’t all just take off whenever we want from a job that has no real responsibilities.” The sharpness in her tone makes me frown. If I push her on this, she’ll turn it around on me.

“Is this because of people dying this year?” My words are slow and quiet, and they’re met with a deafening silence that’s more telling than it should be.

“I have to go, okay? I’ll text you when I’m at my hotel. Security is a bitch here tonight, and I’m going to have to put my phone down.” She forces out a laugh. “I’ll take pictures for you and send them your way. Sorry I can’t do movie night!” Mom doesn’t even give me a chance to reply before hanging up.

“Whatever.” I won’t give myself time to sulk. At least not right now in the parking lot. Throwing my car into gear, I whip out of my parking spot and completely forget to look around to see if Cass is still around.

12

The house is dark and quiet when I get out of my car and slam the door a little harder than necessary. I’m not upset, exactly. My mom being gone means no pressure on me, so I can do whatever I want whenever I want. Hell, she isn’t even around to critique my taste in pizza or my milkshake obsession.

And I can order as much delivery as I want without her reminding me we have food in the fridge and not to waste my money. Still, there’s something like loneliness creeping up my spine to invade the space between my ribs. Sometimes, no matter how hard I work to convince myself otherwise, I don’t want to be alone.

Tonight is easily one of those times.

On the porch I stop, staring down at my black and white sneakers with scuffs along the toes. They’re worn in and comfortable, and I shift my weight on the welcome mat Mom brought home from a trip into Akron last week.

It is, of course, not Halloween themed at all.

The hair at the back of my neck prickles, and before I can think of what I’m doing, I turn to look behind me, toward the street.

Somehow, I’m not surprised when my eyes find Cass. He’s leaning against a sleek back car, and even though he’s too far away for me to see the details of his face and the setting sun has cast him in shadow, I still know what he’s looking at.

Me.

I tell myself the only reason I’m doing this is because my week has been a bitch and I’m lonely as hell. I tell myself he won’t do anything, anyway.

I tell myself it’ll be fine when I leave the door open behind me and stride into my mom’s two-story, cookie-cutter suburban home. It isn’t quite like Lou’s—there’s maybe a two hundred square foot difference—but it’s similar enough that I’m pretty sure the same designer worked on both.

Though honestly, there’s not a lot that’s unique about either house. Not the white walls and light hardwood floors that line the first level, nor the staircase that marches straight up to a railed landing that’s open over the front door and foyer.

The only reason I feel comfortable leaving the door open is because I know Mom closes the cats into my bathroom when our housekeeper is coming over, and she always comes on Thursdays. Unless she’s done a full one-eighty, that’s where they are now with her not being here and the house shining like it only does on the day of a cleaning.

I wander into the kitchen, tugging off my hoodie as I go and drop it on one of the chairs tucked under the small table against the windows. Like Lou, we have a breakfast nook and a sliding glass door that leads to our yard, though instead of a concrete patio like my sister, we have an actual deck with a fire pit and comfortable lawn furniture.

Back from when Mom actually tried to hang around and spend time with me. When she was still faking it and trying to move past what happened instead of reliving it every time she looked my way.

The front door closes, pulling me out of my thoughts just as I pull a bottle of Dr. Pepper out of the fridge. There’s no other noise, though, and when I look up to see Cassian leaning against the doorframe, I jump and nearly drop my drink.

“Jesus,” I breathe. “Make some fucking noise or something, Cassian. What are you, a ghost?” It’s hard not to ramble when I’m nervous, and my brain to mouth filter is clearly malfunctioning today.

“You shouldn’t leave your front door open.” His tone is just a little admonishing, and he doesn’t move from his spot in the doorframe. “What if your cats had gotten out?”

“They’re closed in my bathroom since the housekeeper was here,” I dismiss his concern. “I like my cats more than I could ever like a person. Did you really think I’d take a chance of them being able to run out the door into the big bad world? They’re too delicate to survive.” The statement isn’t quite true. They did pretty well on their own before I befriended them and brought them inside to live a life of luxury.

“No.” Cassian rolls his shoulders in a shrug and just…stands there.

“God, that’s so creepy.” I shudder theatrically. “Do you want a Dr. Pepper?” I’m already going to the fridge again as I say it, and I don’t need him to answer before I set another bottle down on the counter.