Catching Cassidy

by Melissa Foster

  Tim rubs his fist with his other hand, and when he speaks, he stares at the floor. “At first I took just a few hundred dollars. I thought I’d pay it back with my next win. That’s how it happens, you know. You think you’ll win the next time, or the next.” He looks up with sorrow in his eyes. “I spiraled into a black hole of debt, and I had no way out.”

  “Why didn’t you ask my father for a loan?”

  Tim shakes his head. “I did, and he gave it to me.”

  “And?” My chest fills with rage, because I know what’s coming next. He continued to steal from him.

  “Gambling isn’t something I can just turn off. It isn’t a choice. It’s a disease.” He buries his hands in the sides of his hair and his face contorts. “I couldn’t stop. I kept thinking, Just one more night. One more bet. One more fucking win.”

  “One more fucking win? You took my father’s hard-earned money and you…What? Lost that, too? Then stole from him to gamble again?” I’m pacing, breathing hard, trying to figure out this messed-up situation. I cross my arms to restrain my anger. “Did he know you were embezzling?”

  Tim meets my stare and doesn’t say a word, just shakes his head.

  “Goddamn it, Tim. When would you have stopped? After you ran him dry?”

  “I tried to stop. What do you think ruined my marriage? Why do you think I’m in this shitty apartment?” He rises to his feet and staggers.

  I reach a hand out to steady him, and Tim crumples back down on the couch, tears in his eyes, and covers his face with his hands. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Part of me wants to tell him everything will be all right, but it won’t. I have enough on my plate. I can’t be expected to save his ass, too. I sink down to the couch. He was my father’s close friend, and close enough to me and Delilah to be called Uncle Tim. How can I turn my back on him? I’m twenty-two years old and totally ill prepared for this shit. My instinct is to pick up a beer myself and drink until it doesn’t feel like such a nightmare.

  I cross the room to a bookshelf and freeze as my parents’ smiling faces come into focus in a framed photograph. I pick it up with shaking hands and touch their image. I haven’t seen their picture since we left Connecticut, and my throat instantly thickens. My eyes tear up as I drink them in. They’re standing with me, Delilah, and Tim. We’re in the Taproom, and my father’s smiling with an arm over my shoulder. He used to do that a lot. No wonder Delilah wanted to get away from me. I do it, too. She must see our father in many of the things I do. I’d almost forgotten the way his eyes lit up when he smiled and the feel of his big, calloused hand on my shoulder. And my mother. God, my mother. She was so beautiful. I almost forgot how much Delilah looks like her. Memories come rushing back to me, and I grab the bookshelf for support. I remember sitting on the pier with my father and Tim when I was a boy and thinking about how big and strong my father was and how I thought he could figure out any problem. How I hoped one day to be as big and as smart as him. I remember the way he and Tim laughed, their deep voices filling the summer air. I remember laughing, too, even though I had no idea what they were laughing at. I was probably only eight, but I remember desperately wanting to stay in their coveted circle. I dreamed of being an adult with them, and now that dream will never come true.

  Tim’s voice filters into my ears. He must have been talking this whole time, apologizing, telling me that he needs to get help and explaining why he hasn’t come back to the Taproom, but it’s like listening to a Charlie Brown cartoon. His words are muffled by memories.

  My hand shakes as I set the frame back on the bookshelf and close the distance between me and Tim, and his voice comes back into focus. He’s talking about his friendship with my father, and I know what I have to do. What I want to do.

  “Did my father try to get you into some kind of support group or addiction program? Gambling, they treat that like any other addiction, right?” I lost my father, and although Tim isn’t my uncle, he’s been in our lives for so long he feels like family. Despite what he did.

  “Right before he died we talked about it. I told him I’d get help. For the drinking, too.”

  “So you’ve got a drinking problem, too? This isn’t just a onetime thing?”

  He nods and splays his hands out before him. “One leads to the other.”

  “And what happened to getting help?”

  He points to the small kitchen table, where I see a number of brochures. “I was supposed to go in the week your parents died.”

  I close my eyes for a beat, processing the magnitude of his statement. My parents’ deaths must have knocked him completely off-balance, too. While I was getting drunk and beating up an asshole, he was falling down his own rabbit hole.

  “I couldn’t do it. It was all I could do to get my ass down to Connecticut and take care of the arrangements for...I want to do it, but your father…he was like a brother to me, Wyatt. I tried to go back to work and do things right, but I don’t have control over any of this shit. I’m a fucking lost cause. That’s why I haven’t been back to work. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. I hurt your family. I lost my wife. I should have been the one who died, not your father. He was a good man.” Tears stream down Tim’s cheeks.

  “Don’t.” It’s all I can manage. I don’t want to hear about how my father shouldn’t have died. It won’t change the fact that he’s dead. It won’t bring him and my mother back. It won’t make this any easier.

  I have to move forward, and I can’t afford to be hung up on worthless wishes. I draw my shoulders back and hold Tim’s gaze. Growing up sucks ass.

  “You know I have to fire you.”

  Tim nods.

  I pick up the brochures and find one with notes written on it. “But I can’t leave you to hang yourself. Did you call this place?” I hold up the brochure.

  He nods again. “They’ve got all my admission stuff. They keep leaving me messages.”

  “Go pack your shit.”

  Tim’s eyes fill with confusion.

  “Go pack your shit. One way or another I’m getting you the help you need. The rest of your life will be up to you, but my father…My father loved you, and I love him. So I’ll take your sorry ass to rehab, and then you have no excuses.”

  “Wyatt…”

  I hold up my hand to silence him. “Don’t. I might change my mind.”

  “I’ll pay you back. Every penny.”

  “No, you won’t. When you get out of rehab, assuming they’ll still take you, I want you to stay away from me and Delilah. I don’t want you anywhere near the Taproom ever again. My father loved you. He trusted you, and you made awful, selfish choices in spite of that trust. I’m not my father. I need to protect his bar, and I need to protect what’s left of my family. That means making tough choices. This is one of them.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ~Wyatt~

  AT TEN O’CLOCK I’m standing on the boardwalk outside of Brooke’s Bytes, waiting for Cassidy and Brooke to close the café. There’s a guy leaning against the wall staring at his tablet, but other than him, the Internet dwellers have left the premises. I watch Cass through the front window as she cleans the tables and swings her hips. I assume they have the radio on, and watching her dance without being able to hear the music is kind of erotic and sexy. She has the greatest hips. I love the way they fill my hands and the way she moves in sync to me no matter what position we’re in.

  She disappears into the back of the café, and I turn around and lean on the railing, looking out at the ocean. There are still people on the beach even though it’s late. Teenagers in shorts and sweatshirts sit on blankets, and couples walk hand in hand. I’ve been coming to Harborside since I was little, and this afternoon, when I was dealing with getting Tim admitted into the rehab facility, I thought about all the time I’ve spent here. I’m not sure I ever want to go back to Connecticut, and I wonder whether I’d want to move to New York if Cassidy decides to take the job there. Or if she’d even want me to.

  Part of me
wishes we’d waited another week before coming together. Then she would be able to make this decision with a clearer head. Or maybe not. If she was as conflicted about us as I was, which I’m pretty sure she was, then she might have had an even harder time. I don’t know. I just know that as much as I want her to stay, I know this decision has to be hers and hers alone, and that sucks because I want to share every part of our lives together.

  I hear the bell over the door when she comes outside, and I turn to greet her. She looks like an angel illuminated by the lights of the café. Her hair is gathered over one shoulder, and she’s flashing her megawatt smile like she’s got all the energy in the world, even after working for hours on her feet.

  “Hey, babe.” The endearment comes so naturally and feels so right, but it still takes me by surprise. I’m surprised that after so many years of being best friends, we’ve landed here together. I wrap my arms around her and press my lips to hers. It feels like we’ve been apart for a week instead of a few hours, and I can’t imagine what it will be like if she goes to New York.

  “I missed you,” I say, then press another, softer kiss to her lips.

  “God, I missed you, too.” She kisses me again, and my body heats up.

  “Should we wait for Brooke?” I glance into the café and see Brooke sitting at a table.

  “No. She said Jesse’s coming by in a bit.”

  “Jesse?”

  “Yeah.” She shrugs. “She said they had to go over some things. I think she does some work for his businesses.”

  “Cool. Want to take a walk before we go home, or are you too tired?” I drape my arm over her shoulder and walk toward the steps to the beach.

  “Our first moonlit walk as boyfriend and girlfriend? I’m totally up for that.”

  “God, I love you.” My feelings for Cassidy no longer surprise me. Giving in to my feelings for her is the best thing I’ve ever done.

  We slip off our shoes and I carry them while Cass cuddles against me as we walk down the beach toward home. I want to ask her about the job offer, but I don’t. I know she’ll talk about it when she’s ready.

  “Did you find Tim?”

  “Yes.” I look away, still wrestling with the pain of telling him I never wanted to see him again, and then I explain to Cassidy what happened when I saw him.

  “So he’s in rehab?”

  “Yeah. And I told him to stay away from the bar, from me, and from Delilah.”

  “Oh, Wy. That must have been so hard.”

  I swallow past the thickening in my throat. Nothing hurts as much as losing my parents did, but this feels like lead in my gut.

  “I honestly don’t know what to think. I don’t know what set him into gambling in the first place, but now he’s got a gambling and a drinking problem. Or maybe he had a drinking problem first, and it became a gambling problem. I don’t know, but I can’t chance him stealing from us again. I don’t know if it’s right to turn him away completely. I know he’s not my blood relative, but he’s always been here. Always. Since the day we were born he’s been Uncle Tim. It hurt like hell to fire him, and it hurt just as much to tell him to stay away from us.” It’s so easy to bare my heart to Cassidy that I tell her everything.

  “I wish I could talk to my father again and understand what he thought about the whole situation. I think one of the worst things about my parents dying is all the things I’ll never get to say to them.”

  We sit in the sand, and Cassidy buries her feet. “If they were here, what would you say to them?”

  I think about that as I watch the waves roll in. “I don’t know. I wish I could have told them that I love them with more feeling. When we said goodbye that last time, they hugged me and told me they loved me, but I was so sidetracked by wanting to get to the party that I said it fast, you know? Like I’d be able to say it a million more times.”

  “They knew you were just excited.” She takes my hand in hers. “They knew you loved them.”

  I nod, because I know that they knew I loved them, but I still wish I could tell them again. “I wish I could tell my father that I appreciated the way he pushed me.”

  “You hated how he pushed you.”

  “True. Every second of it. But after everything I’ve been through, I understand and appreciate why he did it. It’s gotta suck to be a parent. It’s like you have to force your kids to do things that they hold against you until they’re older. If my parents hadn’t died, how long would it have been before I understood why he pushed me so hard?”

  Cassidy doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to. She knows I’m just emptying my mind, and I love that she understands me enough to let me do it.

  “I wish I could tell my mom that she was an amazing mother, despite being strict. She was loving and kind and always there for us. I wish I could tell her that she was beautiful. She was, you know. She was so pretty. That’s where Delilah gets it from.” I shift my eyes away as they tear up.

  “And I wish I could yell at them, too. That’s really shitty, but I want to tell them how much they messed up Delilah’s self-image. I just don’t understand why they were so against same-sex relationships. And how could they not know about Delilah? I’m her brother and I realized it. I can’t figure out if they really had no clue and were just too verbal with their opinions, or if they had an inkling about her and thought they could change her. It doesn’t matter why, really. They made it so hard for her, and I wish I could talk to them about it. But what I really wish is that I could ask them what I don’t know yet.”

  “What do you mean?” Cassidy scoots closer to me, and our bodies touch from shoulder to hip.

  “I don’t know. My dad always planned things out for me. Wyatt, he’d say, you’re going to be successful in everything you do. You’ll get your degree, then you’ll get a great job, and one day you’ll take over the bar. And I want to know what else he thought.”

  “You’ll figure it out, Wyatt. I know it’s hard for you, because you’re so used to living day by day, but you’re already finding your way. I have faith in you.”

  She never fails to surprise me in the way she believes in me.

  “Why, Cassidy? Why do you have faith in me?”

  Her eyes turn thoughtful and her lips curve up in a sweet smile. “Because your father might have guided you, but he didn’t make you do things. What you’ve accomplished—the stellar grades, the athletic accomplishments, the amazing friend you are to me and so many others—that’s all you, Wyatt. All he did was point you in a direction, but you carried out the things that mattered. And now you’re the one taking charge of the issue with Tim. You figured out a plan. You were there for me when Kyle cheated. You’re the most capable and resourceful man I know. When Jesse went away, you took over the bar without hesitation.”

  “And immediately screwed up by leaving myself understaffed.”

  “But don’t you see? You called your friends to help that night at the bar instead of freaking out or letting the business go untended. When your parents died, you didn’t let it beat you, Wyatt. You took charge of the situation with Delilah and got her out of the house that you knew was too hard for the two of you to deal with. That’s what growing up is all about. Turning mistakes into lessons.”

  “You sound like a parent.” I bump her shoulder with mine.

  “Yeah. I just realized that I stole that line from my mom.”

  “So you don’t think I need my father to point me in the right direction for the next thirty years?”

  She laughs. “I don’t think you need anyone telling you what to do. You have a good head on your shoulders.”

  “Thanks for having faith in me, Cass.”

  “I would say that even if we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend.” She laughs. “I like to say that. Boyfriend and girlfriend. It feels so good.”

  “You’ve had a boyfriend before.” I’m teasing, because I know exactly what she means.

  “Yeah, but he wasn’t you.” She puts her hand on my chest. “And you’v
e never had a real girlfriend before, so at least I get to claim a first for something in your life.”

  “Babe, you claimed so many firsts in my life, I lost count.”

  “Pleeeease.” She lies back and looks up at the stars.

  I lie beside her and lace our fingers together. “First girl I have ever loved. First person to read my palm. First girl whose hair I held back while she puked—other than Dee, of course, when she was fifteen.”

  “I remember that.” She laughs.

  “First person who means so much to me that I want to be a better man for her.”

  She turns and searches my eyes, like she can’t believe what I’ve just said. Her lips curve up in the tender smile I love so much.

  “First person to teach me about life and love when she never even knew she was doing it.”

  “How do you mean?”

  I prop myself up on my elbow and kiss her softly. “All these years, I’ve watched you make your way through the world without parents helping to guide you. Since you were young, really young—ten, maybe eleven, I don’t know how old exactly—you were always so self-sufficient. You didn’t need anyone to show you the way or tell you what to do.”

  “Oh my God, Wyatt. You’re kidding, right?” She blinks up at me with a serious scowl. “My parents have told me what to do my entire life. They just do it from afar, and they do it underhandedly.”

  “They left you for weeks at a time, Cass. Day to day you took care of yourself. Even when you stayed with us, you never needed my mom to tell you to do your homework or wash your clothes, or anything.”

  “Okay, so I’m self-sufficient, but they have always told me my next step. I went into accounting because they told me I should. Remember after my first year when I said I was bored?”

  “Yeah, but you joined all those extracurricular groups, and then you weren’t bored anymore.”

  “Yes, because they told me to join them.” She sits up and draws her knees up to her chest. “And you know what? I don’t even like accounting very much.”