AllFreeNovel
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When the next day she’s not at the gym and the guy in charge tells me she took the day off sick, it’s all I can do not to hit something.
Sick.
Have I ever stopped to ask myself how she is? I always assumed she’s okay. Indestructible. My rock, never unwell, never sad, never angry.
I sometimes forget she’s a girl. That her brother is dead. That her father left.
As I try to decide what to do, I remember when Seth told me she was crying at the wedding reception, how worried I was. She has been by my side, but I haven’t been by hers.
Selfish, Shane. You’re a goddamn selfish prick.
So I call her. I saved her number the first time she ever texted me, but never dared text back or call.
And of course she doesn’t answer. The call goes to her voicemail, and I hang up. Pace inside the locker room of the gym. Try again.
Crickets.
Goddammit. Next step is calling Seth. I ask him for Cassie’s address.
“You don’t know where she lives?” He sounds fucking shocked. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“She won’t answer her phone.”
“Maybe she’s, I dunno, in the bathroom or something.”
“Can I have her fucking address, Seffers, fucking please? I need…” I rub a hand over my face. “Need to see her.”
Make sure she’s okay.
So Seth asks Manon and rattles off the address, and I repeat it in my mind as I march out of the gym and go looking for a bus to take me there.
I think I smell cinnamon as I board the bus and clutch the pendant at my throat as I take my seat. No fucking way am I giving in on my way to find her. I snap the rubber band on my wrist, tell myself again that nothing’s wrong.
It’s damn long ride to her place.
Takes me a while to find her apartment. I get lost inside her building. Turns out there are two elevators and two parts to the building. Finally in front of her door, I snap the band against my wrist again, try to calm my racing pulse.
I press on the doorbell.
The door flies open, and I’m left looking at a distorted image of Cassie.
I shake my head to clear it. “Is Cassie in?”
“Yeah, she’s in. I’m her mom. Who’s asking?”
Right. Mom. “I’m Shane. Shane Tucker.” Not sure why I think I’m supposed to give her my family name. Ingrained habits. “Is she all right?”
“Why don’t you go and see for yourself?” This older version of Cassie has deep creases between her brows and wears too much make-up. Her nails are long and red. “I was just leaving.”
I step inside, brush by her—and she tugs on my hair.
“Aren’t you a handsome one? I bet you’re the boy Cassie is so smitten with. Tell you what.” She tugs again, and my heart is pounding, trying to break through my ribs. “Why don’t you come have a drink with me and leave Cassie to rest? I can show you a good time.”
“What?” I ask intelligently.
“Mom?” someone calls from inside the apartment. “Who is it?”
I jerk away and stumble into a bright living room with a denim sofa and a flat screen TV. Turning, I stare at Cassie’s mother, fighting the urge to use the coffee table as a shield in case she comes at me.
