Page 80 of One Last Gift

“Since when did you get so wise?”

She rolled her eyes. “I have always been wise.” She opened the front door, started to step outside, then looked back at him. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“It was Cassie, at the door earlier.” His heart jolted. Literally jolted, sending his body into mini spasm, just at the sound of her name. Jessica’s lips curved into a soft, understanding smile. Like she knew, somehow, even though he’d never said anything to her. “I just thought you should know.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Sam sent his dad a quick message, explaining that he might be a bit late to meet him, figuring that, all things considered, his dad could wait thirty minutes, if need be. He shoved his phone away in his pocket, then rolled his shoulders a few times to relieve the tension. He looked up at the block of flats, toward the window he knew was Cassie and Hazel’s living room.

He reached out, pressed the buzzer, and was let in. He tried not to think as he climbed the stairs. Thinking about what he should say would just fuck up his mind. It had taken him five days after Jessica had told him it had been Cassie at the front door to work up the courage to come here, and he wasn’t backing out now.

It was Hazel who opened the door. She frowned. “You’re not my takeaway.”

“Err, no.”

She looked at him for a moment more with those very direct green eyes, then stepped aside. “Well, come on in, Malone.” She closed the door behind him, gave him a hug. There was something so simple, so easy about Hazel.

“So,” she said. “Coming over for a girls’ night in? I’ve got some face masks stored away for emergencies if you fancy it?”

“Ah…” He glanced around the flat, down to where he knew Cassie’s room was. He’d never been in there, but he’d seen her come out of it while he and Tom waited for her.

Hazel walked to the little kitchen/living space. He followed automatically. “Cassie’s not here.” She picked up a bottle of red wine off the counter, poured two glasses and handed one to him without asking. “It’s from Bordeaux,” she added.

He took the wine automatically. “When will she be back?” And would it be weird, to wait for her indefinitely? Why hadn’t he thought about that beforehand?

“She’s in Wales,” Hazel said bluntly. “She left yesterday.”

“She’s in…” It hit him then, straight in the gut. “The house.” He remembered Tom talking a bit about it, at the end of last year. He hadn’t gotten the ins and outs of it, but he remembered—that was what the treasure hunt was leading to. A house, in Wales, for Cassie to start her own business.

So that must mean…“She finished it? She finished the treasure hunt?”

Hazel smiled, nodded. “She did.”

Was that what she’d come round to tell him? Had she wanted to make the point that she’d done it, after he’d accused her of being too scared to get to the end? It hadn’t been fair of him, to snap that in her face. And he hadn’t been thinking of that, not really. He’d just wanted her to own up to her feelings for him, because he knew that, unlike the twenty-year-old girl she’d once been, the one who’d held such certainty about him, this Cassie was too afraid to go there.

“And she’s gone? Already?” Hazel nodded. So much for her not being brave, Jesus.

“So she quit her job and everything?” For a moment, he wanted Hazel to say no, that she’d just gone to Wales to scope out the landscape. Then he felt immediately guilty for it. He wanted this for Cassie. Regardless of the fact that it meant she wouldn’t be here, near him, he still wanted it for her.

“Yep.”

“Wow.”

“I know. Our girl’s got guts.” Our girl. Did she mean anything by that? he wondered. Either way, it sent another punch to his stomach.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, she does.” So, she’d left. She’d actually left. Maybe, then, she’d just come to his door to say goodbye.

“How long is she there for?”

“I don’t know. For good, I think, if it works out.” For good. She was gone, for good.

He took another sip of his wine, suddenly feeling like he needed it. “How is she?” he asked, and Hazel smiled.

“Good, I think. I’m going to visit her—and the house—next week.” She hesitated. “You could come too, you know.”

Could he? Just show up, with Hazel, like that? “I…” He cleared his throat. “Thanks. I’ll think about it,” he lied. It now felt ridiculous to have come here in the first place. She’d left him after all. She’d made it perfectly clear she didn’t feel the same—or didn’t want to feel the same. She’d walked away from him in Cornwall—and then she’d done the same when she came to his house. He was stupid, to cling on to hope. She was doing what was right for her, and he was proud of her for that. And maybe, now, he needed to do what was right for him, too.