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Yeah, that hurts, doesn’t it? You know nothing about pain, fucker.
I point the knife at the blond, point first. “Stay down.”
He hesitantly lifts his hands, his eyes wide. Maybe he sees a gun in place of the knife I’m holding. Nothing weird about that in my mind. Happens to me all the time, seeing monsters in place of humans.
But those who hurt me were humans every time, and I’d do well to remember that.
I pick up my cell phone from the floor where it fell at some point, and think of calling Cassie—warm skin and soft laughter, love and understanding and acceptance, and she’s all I need in the whole wide world.
But I hesitate. There’s someone else, someone who needs to save me and let go of his own demons.
So I call Seth.
Chapter Twenty
Cassie
I miss Shane.
God, I wish we hadn’t fought. I spend the entire day at work at the gym unable to concentrate. I keep glancing up, hoping to see him.
He doesn’t show up. Instead of him, I see Rafe pass by, but I’m explaining the enrollment form to a customer, and by the time I surface, Rafe is gone.
My cell is sitting on the desk, mocking me with its lack of messages and missed calls, with the possibility of calling Shane.
Why not call him? Clear this misunderstanding? As a matter of fact, why am I not calling him right now instead of thinking and angsting?
It doesn’t matter. Time passes, hours roll by, and I still don’t call him.
I’m giving him space. That’s what I’m doing. But hey, I could pass by his apartment after work, check in on him. Explain what I meant. Explain we could be friends, if that’s all he wants.
But when my shift is over and I gather my stuff to go, I get into my car and drive home.
Not sure if I’m giving space to him or to myself. Maybe I’m waiting for him to make the first move for once, seek me out. Say he’s sorry. Say he misses me. That he loves me.
And he doesn’t.
It really shouldn’t hurt this badly. Not again. Not when he’s never sought me out before, when I’ve always been the one barging into his life over and over again, ringing his bell, calling his phone, picking at his shell, making sure he’s okay.
Trying to get him to love me.
How pathetic is that, Cass?
Way over the acceptable levels, that’s for sure. Pathetic even for me. Especially for me. I don’t even deserve pity for falling like this, with no safety net, no parachute.
Me, who’s been walking a tightwire from guy to guy for as long as I can remember without ever tripping. Without ever caring if I fell, because it never mattered. I had nothing to lose.
What do you want, Cass?
I buy groceries, clean my kitchen, think about baking a cake for the first time in ages. Check the TV program. Put on music and hum along.
I shove my cell into the bottom of my purse.
Then take it out again. As evening rolls around, as night falls, the hours ticking by, I can’t stand not knowing how he’s been today, what he’s done. If he’s slept well. If he had another flashback.
Tough.
I put on the Walking Dead, because hey, I really like that show, and grab a bowl of cereal with chocolate milk, while waiting for the cake to bake. I need sweet. And warmth. And nothing is helping.
