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“Patrick, did you not read that? Rat. Whoever broke in here is talking about high school. About my father. About what was in my locker. This is someone who is an integral part of this town. No one was ever blamed then, held accountable then, and it’s no wonder the cops did nothing about the first break-in. We can’t trust them. We can’t trust anyone in this town.”
A prickling of awareness has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, because I can’t find a single thing about Cassandra’s assumption to poke holes in. The word choice is clear, this is a person who is tied directly to the reason why she left Hope Crest. And I’d seen Nikolai in the pizzeria that day—the cops had no intention of helping her.
But what she’s asking of me … it’s a hard pill to swallow. This is my home. My town. I trust these people implicitly and hold out a hand whenever they need it.
In my bones, though, I know it’s time to make a choice. And it’s not a question anymore; I would take a bullet for this woman. I’d burn the world down to make sure she’s okay.
It took tonight, a horrific violation, to make me realize that Cassandra is theone. That she’s the woman I’ll fight to the end of the earth to be with. If that means turning my back on the people I’ve known all my life and trusting her word, so be it.
“We can’t stay here.” I affirm her choice by not addressing it whatsoever. “We’re going over to my place until morning when I can think clearly. But I can’t sleep in that bedroom knowing someone almost …”
An image of Cassandra lying bloody fills my head, and I want to double over and empty the contents of my stomach.
“Get me out of here, Patrick.” Her voice is reed thin.
I dress in the dark, throwing clothes over my head, and then hold her shaky fingers as she pulls on the first warm clothes she can find. The walk from her back porch to the French doors of the guesthouse is quiet, lit only by the moon, and eerie as hell. I feel like we’re being watched the entire time.
A light from my parents’ house draws my eyes up, and when I look, Mom is standing at the window with a worried look. I shake my head at her, knowing Cassandra hasn’t caught a glimpse. Another person’s involvement tonight would only make things worse.
It’s going to be mayhem when my family finds out that I’ve been hiding the other break-in from them, not to mention the hysteria the town will be thrown into once they know what’s happened. This is a threat to all of us, there is a dangerous person in our midst.
But right now, and moving forward, my number one priority is Cassandra. I need to get her into my guesthouse, lock the doors tight, and try to coax her to sleep. Giving herself over to the land of numbness and dark is the only option at this time of night. She’s going to need rest and a clear mind for what has to happen next.
Because this is war. She won’t be safe. I won’t rest easy until whoever did this is found.
22
CASSANDRA
Imake it exactly six hours without Patrick.
My day is spent calling Yaren and the security company, who work to hire a private investigator to figure out what the hell is going on and how this person got into the ranch without tripping any of the new security features. I meant it when I told Patrick I don’t trust the cops here. Something feels off, and the fact this person broke into my house without stealing anything or harming me throws me off even more.
They wanted to leave a message, one I spent three hours scrubbing off the wall that is now dyed red, and they succeeded. Whoever had done this wants me quaking, scared, and threatened, and they’ve done just that.
Trying to wait it out for the man who is slowly becoming my first choice of comfort proves unsuccessful. That desperation is what has me walking into Hope Pizza, even though I know it can lead to a slew of shit. But Patrick holding me is the only thing that will calm my anxiety right now, so I move forward.
Except I know I’ve made a huge mistake the minute I come face-to-face with Thomas Ashton.
The restaurant isn’t full necessarily, but there are a good number of customers dining for early dinner or late lunch. A couple heads swing toward me, and I don’t miss the dropped jaws or whispers. I haven’t kept to myself while in town, but I haven’t gone out of my way to stand out either. Aside from the occasional trip to a festival or necessity store, I have kept to the wilderness or my father’s house.
It’s too bold of me to come in here, but my anxiety has me needing to cower into Patrick. And now Thomas looks like he’s about to blow steam out of his ears. He’s furious at me for stepping foot in here, that much is clear.
What is also clear is that Patrick hasn’t cleared our relationship with the person who matters most. I can’t lie and say that it doesn’t sting as I’m standing in the place they all hold sacred.
“Did you come here to offer me the land?” Patrick’s father, Thomas, walks to the hostess stand.
“Wh-what?” I stutter, not understanding it.
I’m still stuck, half-drowning, in what happened at my house last night.
“You shouldn’t have come here unless you’re offering to sell me Butch’s land. I’ve seen you around, trying to be a part of this town. Well, it won’t fly in my restaurant. Attempting to walk in right before the dinner rush and making some show like this. It’s exactly what your father would have done.”
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Patrick’s voice is deadly quiet as he walks out of a back hallway. “You don’t speak to her like that.”
“Patrick, you dare speak to your father like that?” An older woman, Patrick’s Nonna, if I’m guessing correctly, clutches her chest as she passes by, holding some kind of dish with red sauce that looks incredible.
“If he is going to speak to another human, what’s more, a woman I care deeply about, then yes, I’ll talk to him just like that.” Patrick’s jaw tics and I can see his hands ball into fists.
