Catching Cassidy

by Melissa Foster

  “No way. Why would I? So they can make excuses about why they did it? Or worse—deny it?”

  “No. So that you can get it out of your system.” We step out of the photo booth, and he grabs the strip of pictures. Wyatt doesn’t even look at it. He folds me into his arms again and kisses my cheek.

  We walk to the boardwalk and sit with our feet dangling over the sand.

  “You don’t get it, Wyatt. You don’t know how this feels. I know it’s selfish to worry about how it makes me feel, when their lives are messed up, too, but I can’t help it.”

  “I do get it, Cass. But your parents are still here. You can communicate with them and try to clear the air. I can’t do that, and if I could, I would, no matter how much it hurt.”

  I look out at the water feeling guilty. “I’m sorry. I know this is nothing compared to losing your parents.”

  Wyatt jumps off the boardwalk and stands in front of me. The boardwalk comes up to his chest. He pulls me forward and lifts me down off the decking and holds me tight. He always holds me tight, and I don’t want there to ever be a time when he won’t be here for me.

  “That’s not what I meant. This isn’t nothing. All I’m saying is that you have a lot of people who love you and are here to support you, and if you ever want to, you can confront your parents and figure it out, or work through it. You have options, even if they seem hard or bad right now.”

  He sets me down on the sand and takes off our shoes, then he takes my hand and we walk down the beach toward the pier. The sand feels luxurious as it cools with the setting sun. I’m so glad I’m here with Wyatt while I’m dealing with this. What if they’d told me when I was in New York? That would have sucked.

  “It’s okay to be angry, or sad, or whatever way you feel, but don’t let your parents’ messed-up relationship be your guide for what can or can’t be in our relationship. Look at my parents. They were happy, and they treated all of us like we mattered.”

  “I know, Wy. Can we talk about something else?”

  We walk in silence to the pier, and Wyatt nods at the Taproom. “Want to get a drink?”

  “God, yes.”

  Brandon’s band is setting up on the stage. He waves as we grab seats at the bar.

  Tristan sets a blue drink in front of me, his eyes full of compassion. He knows how much I love blue margaritas.

  “You okay, hon?”

  “Better now.” I sip the margarita. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

  “I put a little extra tequila in there to numb the pain. I assume Wyatt’s got your back tonight if you decide to overdo.” Tristan hands Wyatt a beer and winks.

  Wyatt drapes an arm over my shoulder and kisses my cheek. “I’ve got her back every night.”

  I down my drink, trying to drown the part of me that winced when Wyatt said that. I know he means it, but the bomb my parents dropped on me makes me wonder how anyone can know when love is real.

  “You have all night, Cass.” Tristan holds up my empty glass and arches a brow.

  “Another, please.” I feel Wyatt’s eyes on me, and I lean my shoulder against him. “Don’t worry. I won’t puke this time. I just want to be numb.”

  “There are times in every person’s life when they need to drink until they puke. Besides, I’m a good hair holder. Don’t worry. I won’t leave your side tonight.”

  He kisses my forehead, and I feel guilty for cringing inside earlier. He’s so sure that love is real, and I want so badly to believe that my parents aren’t the example of love, but the example of what love shouldn’t be. I still feel like my whole life is whirring around my head.

  Brandon’s band starts playing and we turn to watch them. Brandon lifts his chin in our direction and Wyatt raises his glass in greeting. We listen to a few songs, and when they play a slow one, Wyatt gets up from his stool and reaches for my hand.

  “Dance with me?”

  I narrow my eyes, wondering what he’s up to. I’ve never seen him dance before, except at parties when he was two sheets to the wind. “You hate to dance.”

  “I hate to dance with random girls. I want to dance with you.” He pulls me to my feet and holds me tight as we join the other couples on the dance floor, and I realize that while all the other pieces of my life are spinning and upended, Wyatt is my rock. The one stable person who has always been there. I feel wonderful and safe in his arms.

  Our bodies move perfectly together. Everything about being with Wyatt feels right, but I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m supposed to learn from my parents’ mistake. They married when they were young, and if they couldn’t hold it together, then it’s even more of a reason for me to make my decision about the job in New York completely separate from my relationship with Wyatt.

  I see Jesse and Brooke take a seat at a table by the bar. Delilah comes out of the back room and joins them, and when the song ends, we join them, too.

  “Hey, Cassidy. How’re things going?” Jesse’s leaning on the table, both hands clutching a beer bottle.

  “Okay. Thanks for asking,” I answer, as Wyatt pulls out a chair for me, then sits beside me and drapes his arm over my shoulder.

  “I’m really sorry about your folks, Cass.” Jesse glances at Wyatt. “I hope all of you guys know if you want to talk, I’m around.”

  “Thanks, Jesse, but I’m okay. It’s just going to take some getting used to.”

  Tristan brings another margarita. “You tell me when, okay?”

  I nod, wondering how I’d handle my parents divorcing if I didn’t have our friends to lean on.

  “My parents were divorced when I was your age, Cassidy. It’s weird at first, but you’ll get used to it.” Brooke takes a sip of her drink. “It’s one of those things that seems like it changes your entire world, and then you realize that it actually changes your world very little. You’re not living with them full-time, so the times you see them, you may see only one parent, but at least you’re not twelve years old, being shuffled from house to house.”

  My eyes shift to Brandon playing his guitar. I know his parents were divorced when he was young. “Yeah, I think you’re probably right. It’s just…”

  “I understand,” Delilah says. “You thought they’d always be there. Together. Even if you didn’t want them or need them to be. You never imagined a time when they wouldn’t be together, or when you wouldn’t be able to pick up the phone and call them. So it’s new, and scary, and it makes you question everything else in your life.”

  We’re all silent for a beat, and I know everyone is thinking the same thing I am, that Delilah just told us how she feels about the loss of her parents. It’s the first time she’s really said much about it, but since she framed it as being about me, I don’t mention that. Sadness washes over Wyatt’s eyes, and I wonder if he’s sad for Delilah, for me, or for all three of us.

  “Yes, it does,” I admit. “I know it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, and I’m sure in a month I’ll look back and feel like it isn’t. But right now it feels pretty big.”

  “That’s understandable. Plus, you have so much on your plate right now. Did you decide about going to New York?” Brooke asks.

  I feel Wyatt stiffen beside me, and I bristle against the question, too. “Um. I haven’t decided.”

  Jesse shifts his eyes to Wyatt, and it seems like a silent message that I can’t read passes between them.

  I feel the heat of Wyatt’s hand on my thigh, and I think about being in New York and not being able to see him after work, or in the mornings. Or at all, until weekends or vacations. Part of me wishes the job in New York hadn’t come through, but another part of me knows I’m supposed to get out there and be on my own. Make a name for myself. See the big city. Why are we always pushing ourselves toward bigger and better things? Why is it bad to have aspirations that aren’t going to make us a million dollars but are going to make us rich in other ways, ways that matter, like being happy, fulfilled? Loved.

  Brooke tucks her dark hair behind her e
ar. “Cassidy and I are thinking about starting a party-planning business if she stays in town, and I’m really hoping she will.” She leans across the table and lowers her voice. “No pressure or anything.”

  Wyatt threads his fingers into mine.

  “Cassidy, you might really go to New York?” Delilah’s eyes widen, like she can’t imagine that I would go.

  I shrug.

  “How will you decide? I thought that if you and Wyatt were together…” Delilah looks at Wyatt, and I see a silent message pass between them.

  “I don’t know. It’s a really hard decision,” I admit.

  “But why would you leave Wyatt after you two just got together?” Delilah asks just above a whisper. She shifts concerned eyes to Wyatt, then back to me.

  My pulse kicks up, and I’m not sure if it’s driven by my own fear of leaving Wyatt or of explaining myself to my friends, or because the words I’m about to say don’t feel right to me, but they feel important.

  “I don’t want to leave Wyatt, and I don’t even know if I will.” I look at Wyatt, and his eyes are dark and serious. “I have to make this decision separate from our relationship.”

  “Why?” Delilah’s eyes dart between me and Wyatt.

  Please stop asking me questions. “Because.” I pull my shoulders back and draw on what little courage I can muster. “Because, you know, after college you’re supposed to build a name for yourself, and New York is a big city. There’ll be lots of opportunities.”

  “New York is the land of opportunity.” Wyatt kisses my temple. “Let’s lay off Cassidy for a while, okay? If she goes to New York, we’ll make it work, and if she stays, we’ll make it work.”

  “Sorry, Cass. I just hate the idea of you leaving.” Delilah’s eyes soften, and she smiles an apologetic smile.

  “It’s okay. I hate it, too.”

  Over the next hour Jesse and Wyatt talk shop, and Brooke, Delilah, and I talk and dance. We laugh and drink too much, which only makes us laugh more. Tristan shakes his head at us when we go up to the bar for another drink.

  By the time Wyatt and I walk home, we’re both pretty tipsy. I lean my head against his shoulder, wishing there was a magic wheel that I could spin that would tell me where Wyatt and I will be in five years, or ten, or fifteen. I believe with all my heart that he’s my soul mate and that we’re meant to be together, but every time I think about my parents divorcing, fear whispers through my mind. How can I know for sure that we won’t end up the same way?

  Wyatt leans down and kisses me on the way into the house, and all my worries disappear. I never want the kiss to end. The house is quiet. Brandon and Tristan are still at the bar, and Delilah is still staying at Brooke’s. When our lips finally part, the look in Wyatt’s eyes is white-hot. We both glance around the empty living room. Wyatt’s holding me close, and I can feel how hard he is. He brings his lips to mine but doesn’t kiss me. My insides hum with anticipation. He backs me up against the door and laces his fingers in mine, then rocks his hard length against me. His tongue slowly traces my lips—God, I love when he does that—and lust simmers deep within me. My breathing becomes shallow as his tongue glides over my mouth. I crane my neck, trying to kiss him, but he has my hands and hips pinned against the door. When he moves his mouth out of reach, a needful sound slips from my lungs.

  “Tell me what you want,” he whispers as he brings that talented mouth of his to my neck and sucks until I’m wet, writhing against him.

  “You, Wyatt. I want you.” My head falls back with a thunk against the wall, but I don’t care.

  He’s licking and sucking my neck and driving me out of my freaking mind. He brings both hands over my head and traps them in one of his, then he brushes his thumb over my lower lip, and I try to lick it, needing a taste of him. Any part of him. His thumb stills, and his eyes go nearly black. If I didn’t know him, I’d think it was anger I see on his face, but I know this look well. Wyatt likes to tease me, and I recognize the look of restrained desire. All his muscles are corded tight, like a caged tiger, ready to claim his prey. I slick my tongue over his thumb and he groans. I love it when he groans, so I suck his thumb into my mouth and swirl my tongue around it. He pulls it from my lips and crashes his mouth over mine, releasing my hands. I push at his shirt until he finally rips it off, and I go a little crazy, clawing, groping, touching every inch of his hard flesh.

  We stumble up the stairs, leaving a trail of shirts behind. On the second floor Wyatt presses me against the wall and takes me in a greedy kiss that weakens my knees. He pushes at my pants, and I wiggle out of them, taking my underwear with them.

  “Cassidy.” My name sounds like a demand as he drops to his knees and spreads my thighs with his hands.

  The first slick of his tongue makes my entire body shiver despite the heat searing between us. I close my eyes as he teases me with his fingers and tongue. His hot breath washes over my wetness, and it’s all I can do to remain upright. I claw at the wall and rise up on my toes as he plunges his fingers into me. In the next second he rises to his full height and kisses me while his fingers probe and excite me. He tastes like sex as his tongue thrusts hot and hungrily into my mouth, and it turns me on even more. His fingers tease and his thumb strokes my most sensitive area, stealing my ability to think.

  “Wy—”

  He captures my plea in his mouth, stroking and probing me and holding me up as my body quakes with a powerful climax.

  He kisses the corners of my mouth, my upper lip, sucks my lower lip between his teeth, then seals his lips over mine again. I push his pants down his hips, freeing his erection.

  “Condom,” he says between heavy breaths, and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. He kicks off his jeans as he fishes out the condom.

  “Hurry. Hurry.” I can’t help it. I am aching to feel him inside me.

  He’s sheathed in seconds and—Oh God—he pushes into me with one hard thrust. He lifts me easily into his arms and holds my ass as he moves inside me, and I bring my lips to his. I can feel his heart thundering against mine, and I use his arms for leverage, moving in sync with his efforts. When I tear my lips away with the need to regain my balance, he backs me against the wall and claims my mouth again. His tongue moves in tandem to every thrust of his hips. My body feels full and tight, and the familiar sear of anticipation builds inside me until I think I’m going to lose my mind. And, finally, my limbs go hot with the rush of another orgasm. He swallows my cries again, thrusting his tongue deeper as he finds his own release, and I feel his rigid length pulsing inside me, taking me higher, extending my orgasm longer than ever before. We kiss long after we reach our peaks, and we don’t stop. Jesus, he’s hard again, and I’m ready. So ready.

  “Aw, shit. Sorry.” Tristan’s voice sails upstairs.

  My eyes fly open, my mouth still attached to Wyatt’s. Without missing a beat, Wyatt deepens the kiss and carries me into the bedroom. He kicks the door closed behind us, and we fall to the bed in a fit of laughter.

  “Poor Tristan,” I say between laughs. “Oh my God!” I can’t believe he saw us…again.

  Wyatt kisses me again and looks at me with so much love I can feel it washing through me like a wave.

  “Don’t worry. He didn’t see you. He just got a nice view of my ass.”

  I peer over his shoulder. “You have a great ass, so you probably made his night.”

  Wyatt kisses the tip of my nose and then touches his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry, Cass. I couldn’t resist you. I’ll make sure we’re behind closed doors next time.”

  I wrap my arms around him and smile. “I’m not. I love how spontaneous you are.”

  “Good, because you are irresistible, and I’m not sure I’ll always be able to wait for a closed door.” He kisses me again, and when he lifts his body from mine to go into the bathroom, I feel his absence like a missing limb.

  New York may be a lot of things, but without Wyatt, it will only feel lonely.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

&n
bsp; ~Wyatt~

  IT’S BEEN FIVE days since Cassidy got the job offer, and she hasn’t given me any indication that she’s made a decision. It’s ten thirty at night and Cassidy and I just arrived home from work half an hour ago. She’s upstairs taking a shower, and I’m sitting on the steps of the deck, thinking about the crazy hours I’ve been working at the bar. I finally have the accounting system worked out to the point where I should feel comfortable hiring someone to handle the books part-time, but I don’t. I’m not ready to give up control yet, and I don’t mind working the hours that it takes to run things.

  Delilah walks around the side of the house and sits beside me. “Hey, stranger.”

  I put my arm over her shoulder. “I thought you were going to Brooke’s after work.”

  She shrugs. “I did, but I missed you.”

  “You just worked eight hours with me.”

  She bumps me with her shoulder. “You know what I mean. That’s work. I miss hanging out with you. Does it bother you that I’ve been staying with Brooke?”

  “Dee, whatever makes you happy is good with me.”

  “Thanks. I never knew how much you remind me of Dad, but it was so hard to see some of the things you did. I’m sorry, Wyatt. I had to go.”

  “No worries, but...I remind you of Dad?” I cock my head at that. “Dad and I were so different.” Even as I say it, I know we weren’t. That day at Tim’s apartment made me realize how similar we really were.

  “No, you weren’t.”

  “Yeah, we were, at least in the ways that mattered, like supporting you.”

  “I thought so, too, but you’re not. Your mannerisms are similar. The way you lift your eyebrows when you drink, and when you shave, you look so much like him that it’s scary.”

  “I almost never shave.” I smile at her, and she laughs.

  “True. But you do rub your chin like him. And, oh my gosh, Wy, at the bar you’re like a different person.”

  I gaze out at the water. “Yeah. I’ve felt different ever since I found out about Tim. It’s like the bar is ours now, not Mom and Dad’s. And I care about it, you know?”