As Keene and Charlie enter the room, Keene lets out a sound of wounded desperation as Charlie moves to cover Mildred. I hear the sirens in the distance. After what I heard in the headset, Keene’s reaction makes complete sense.
How did I miss it? Her mother’s hair? Her father’s eyes? Her brother’s smile?
I look from the woman I love to the brother of my heart, and then to Jason.
“How much blood is she losing?”
Jason replies grimly. “Too much. They’re going to want to transfuse, and with her blood type being so damn rare…”
I make a snap decision.
“Keene, you’re in the ambulance with her.”
He’s stunned. “Wha—what?”
“There’s no time. I heard what Mildred said to her in the headpiece. I know why this happened. I’m going to have to stay and talk to the police.” I give him a hard stare. “But I heard her tell Cassidy she’s your Riley. Your sister.”
Hearing it confirmed brings Keene to his knees next to me.
I grab his shirt. “Just one thing. Don’t you dare let her fucking die on me. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I release him. “We’ll get into why you didn’t tell me later, but there’s no fucking time now. I know you two share the same blood type and she’s going to need a transfusion.”
He nods. Almost hesitantly, Keene reaches for his sister’s hand for the first time in over twenty-five years. Phil can he heard sobbing quietly in the background.
The entire atmosphere in the room changes. The sounds from Mildred turn into animalistic howls as the police storm the house. Jason starts tossing out orders like he’s in the middle of an ER.
And me, I begin begging God for a chance to make all of this right.
Hoping I have a chance to atone for not explaining everything in the beginning.
38
Keene
As I sit in the back of the ambulance on the way to Greenwich Hospital, I break down. Completely break down.
After twenty-five years of promises to find her, Riley’s here. I hope she knows I never stopped loving her.
After seventeen years of my actively searching, Riley’s here. I hope she knows I never gave up on her.
After knowing her for two months, I hope she can forgive me for being such an asshole. God, I was such an asshole.
As I listen to the blips and bleeps, my heart starts to go into overdrive. They need to move faster! What if I lose my sister before I ever truly get her back?
“Will someone drive this fucking ambulance faster? My sister is dying back here!” I scream, tears rolling down my face.
And then I feel it. A miniscule squeeze of my hand. She’s not done fighting yet.
Riley…Cassidy, isn’t going anywhere.
39
Caleb
It’s been three days since Cassidy was brought to the trauma unit.
After dealing with the police at the house, and a second ambulance to take Mildred to the hospital under police guard, I made it there just in time to watch Cassidy be wheeled in for surgery to close her neck and her head. She did, in fact, require a blood transfusion. In one sense, Mildred being as drunk as she was saved Cassidy’s life. She was actually aiming for the center of her chest.
I shudder to even imagine it.
The biggest issue is the head trauma. When Cassidy fell and the bullet hit her, she tripped on the edge of the carpet as she instinctively tried to move from it, and ended up knocking her head on the edge of the stone desktop in the library. That, more than the neck wound, was concerning the doctors. They had to shave a six-inch band of her hair above her tattoo in order to close up the gash with about fifty stitches. There was also a small drainage tube placed to pull blood away from her head so it didn’t build up against her brain.
The first time I heard that, I think I met Phil and Keene in the bathroom as all three of us vomited.
She still hasn’t woken up.
Between Cassidy’s family, Keene, Charlie and I, we’ve taken over the trauma care waiting room at Greenwich Hospital. I’ve personally taken up residence in her room. Just let someone try to kick me out.
I have to figure out a way to beg for her forgiveness.
I have to explain what I’ve actually known since before we met. Because right now, it’s probably so twisted with Mildred’s lunacy, I imagine she’s thinking the worst.
I still have no idea how.
My head bows to rest on the bed while I think about what’s happened since Cassidy was settled into this room.
The only time I’ve left Cassidy in the last three days was for Keene and I to contact the Attorney General due to the complete compromise of Hudson. When I had Phil hand me his earpiece, I heard every word my mother had said about Hudson and after. With the Greenwich Police present, we explained the information I heard in my statement. After listening carefully, he said he needed to absorb the information with how it pertained to the open cases and call us back, but not before letting us know he would do everything possible to make certain my mother was convicted of every possible crime she could be.
After, we set a trap to bring down the traitors within Hudson. Fourteen people, including my executive assistant and Charlie’s wife, all walked into it. Within hours, they were arrested and are now facing criminal charges.
Charlie, while heartsick, was not only a pragmatist, he apparently loved the Freemans more than his wife. “I can always find another wife. I can’t find more kids to love.”
And people wonder why I keep his ass around?
So here I sit, praying over the only woman I’ve ever loved. Apologizing over and over about everything that’s happened. Holding her hand, kissing it, hoping for a sign of life. Maybe she’ll open those gem-colored eyes and blink at me. Maybe she’ll smile. Maybe she’ll…
“Go…” comes a raspy voice from the depths of the bed.
Oh my god, she’s awake. What did she say?
“Cassidy, love?” I ask cautiously.
“Need you to go,” Cassidy says with dull eyes. She repeats the word, causing my heart to begin to bleed. “Go.”
I reach for the nurse’s button as I stand, but she stays my hand. “Go.” Her eyes are open, looking directly at me.
They’re not blazing, they’re dull. They’re in pain but they’re alive. They’re beautiful. Her face is so pale, the skin is almost translucent. If I were to glance away from her perfect features, I imagine the bag with the drainage behind the bed would be visible.
I wouldn’t care if she didn’t have a single lock of hair on her head or a million stitches. She would still be the most beautiful thing in the world.
Even if she just told me to go.
“Baby…” I start to say, but I manage to hold it in. Barely. Because I feel like all of this is my fault. “I’m so fucking sorry,” I choke out.
“Need you to go,” she says again.
My heart stops. She means it. She wants me gone. She can’t forgive me.
“I need…” She pauses, closes her eyes and swallows. “I need you to go, Caleb.”
Even as my heart stops beating inside my chest, I think back to the words written on the piece of paper in my wallet that Matt gave me so many months ago.
I let the tears flow over. I reach up and brush a wayward curl away from her cheek and whisper, “I will always love you, Cassidy Freeman.”
I see her eyes flare as I bend down to brush my lips against hers. The tears from my face drop onto hers, and I carefully brush them off before kissing her forehead.
It may be the last time I get to touch my love. My heart. My soul.
I stand up and start to draw my hand away when I feel a small movement that causes me to look down.
I feel her fingers gripping at the sheet as she tries to inch her hand with the IV closer to mine.
Tentatively, I move my hand closer. Her fingers curl slightly over it and she sighs. Her eyelids lower, and her lips have a small smile on them.
“Go,” sh
e whispers. “Need you to go get the others.”
Need you to go. Not go.
My heart aches as the blood slowly starts pumping through it again.
“You’re not telling me to go?” I choke out in disbelief.
“No.” Her eyes crack open. “I reserve the right for angry later. Should have tried to tell me.”
I half-laugh, half sob as I gently lay my lips on hers. “I know, and you’re right. You can reserve the right for whatever you need later, my love.”
“Love you, Caleb. Always. Understand why. Talk with Keene. Told him. Office. He’ll understand. Painting.” Her lips are against mine the whole time she says what she did, so I’m not sure I got it right.
But I understood the most important thing.
“I love you too, baby.”
“Go get the others. Come back.”
“Always,” I vow, my lips still on hers.
She smiles. “Okay.” Then her eyes close again.
As I push the button for the nurse to come in, I thank God for miracles. It’s going to be okay.
Eventually.
40
Cassidy
I’m back at the carriage house after having been checked out by what seems like every doctor at Greenwich Hospital. It was a long eight-day stay.
The final damage? A required haircut as a result of the stitches in the back of my head. A scar along the crease of my neck which will be barely noticeable after it fades. Bruises galore from the hits Mildred inflicted to my face that get worse every day. Fortunately, even pistol-whipping me with her gun, she didn’t manage to break my zygomatic bone. Instead, it left a hell of a bruise and a gash which was taped up by the time the EMTs got me in the ambulance.
I was discharged today. Caleb is thoroughly pissed because he couldn’t be there with me. The Attorney General has flown up to New York to discuss the impact of what Mildred did to the AG’s overall case. Even though we were both busy—me being discharged and him with the AG—I was getting increasingly concerned pings from Caleb.
Missing you.
Is everything okay?
Can you just ping me to let me know you’re okay?
And then, finally.
We’re done. Keene and I are on our way. I’ll be there soon to hold you.
Tears welled up in my eyes when I got that one. I sent him a quick “Good. Going to rest now” before I put my phone down and relaxed back in my bed.
I could hear my family moving around downstairs, their voices a comforting background noise, but I was missing something.
Caleb.
I really wanted his arms around me and the sound of his heart under my ear.
Moving slowly, as the adrenaline has sucked out more energy than Ali on a five-mile trail run, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and start to walk to my bathroom.
“Busted,” an amused male voice, not the one I’m waiting for, but a beloved one nonetheless says.
Turning, I find Phil lounging in my doorway with what appears to be one of my serving bowls filled with ice cream on a tray.
“Is that Baskin Robbins Chocolate-Peanut Butter?” I ask, my glands salivating at my favorite ice cream flavor.
“Is there another kind?” He smirks as he strolls into my room.
“There shouldn’t be. Hey, what the hell are you doing?” I ask as he starts to lift the spoon to his mouth.
“Oh, I figured if you were out of bed, then you must be fine and this was up for grabs,” he remarks innocently. But I can see the dark edge in his eyes, daring me to argue with him.
Sighing, my shoulders droop. “Phil, I’m still in gross hospital clothes. All I really want to do is pee, wipe the hospital smell off me and change into something soft and comfortable. Is that too much?” I’m almost in tears with the effort it’s taking me to have the discussion.
Immediately, the edge is gone. “No, Little Girl, it’s not. Why don’t you head to the bathroom and start with the cleanup? Tell me what you want and I’ll hand it in.”
“My old College of Charleston hoodie and a pair of sleep shorts. Bottom drawer dresser. I don’t care if they match.”
A few minutes later—gross clothes handed to Phil that I don’t care if he burns—I’m sitting back in bed with the ginormous bowl of ice cream cradled next to me. They must have dumped the full quart in here, with about a pint of fresh whipped cream.
Taking another blissful bite, I’m so not complaining. I’m eating this until A, I get sick. B, it melts. Or C, I fall asleep. I gently shove another spoonful into my mouth and sigh. All I need is…
The door opens.
Caleb walking in and making me forget about the ice cream.
His eyes meet mine across the room and I start to sit up.
“No, baby, don’t move,” he protests. He drops his bags near the entrance of the room and crosses it in a few quick movements. Placing his knee on the bed, he moves my dark hair away from the left side of my face and hisses.
Misunderstanding, I babble, “It just looks worse than yesterday. The doctor said since there’s no longer an open cut, I could put something on it to hide the bruising. Em has this makeup that should work.”
He puts his finger in the center of my lips to hush me. Leaning over me, he touches his lips gently on the bruise, kissing it better. My heart melts faster than the ice cream. He gently traces around my face and lips with his finger. “I want to kiss you to reassure myself you’re okay. I don’t want to hurt you though.”
“Be gentle, Caleb. It should be fine.” I reach for his jaw to angle his face toward me.
His lips meet mine, and I feel only a slight twinge where the cut is next to the corner of my lip. The kiss is slow, soft, and filled with so much emotion.
I feel Caleb’s pain, his regret, his fury, his desire, his promise. In this one kiss, he’s cherishing me. He’s worshiping me.
We break apart and our eyes lock in a bubble of desire before his sharpen and change to perplexed. Glancing down, his face changes to one of utter disgust. When I see why, I start to giggle. Maybe I should have added a final option for when I would stop eating my ice cream.
D, when Caleb’s hand ended up in the center of it while kissing me.
Lifting his hand from the puddle of chocolate and mashed peanut butter, he holds his hand carefully over the bowl. “Well, I can’t say this has ever happened before.”
My giggle turns into a full-blown laugh. I groan and reach up to my cheek to hold it, but can’t stop the snorting sounds that erupt.
His face tries to look stern, but his eyes are filled with humor he hasn’t shown for far too long. His deep laugh collides with mine and pretty soon, we’re both doubled over—me with my hand holding my bruised face, him holding his ice cream-covered hand over the bowl so as not to get it on my bed.
Finally, after our hilarity calms down, I wipe my eyes. “Let me get you a towel.”
“You are not leaving that bed for the next several days, my love.” His voice is firm with no room for argument. “I was already briefed downstairs. I know the doctor said to rest.”
“Rest, Caleb. Not be a prisoner of my bed.” I pout. The full one requires too much cheek movement.
“But that could be so much fun,” he returns with a wink.
My jaw unhinges. Ow. Wince.
“Okay. Maybe in a day or so, that could be more fun,” he amends.
“I…you. What. Seriously?” I stammer.
“Want to try that again?” he asks, amused.
Taking a deep breath, again, and again. Huh. Only three needed. “You want me looking like this?”
“Cassidy, I honestly can’t think of a time or a place I wouldn’t want you. Even if it was your hand stuck in the bowl of chocolate ice cream.”
Shit, the ice cream.
“Yell for Phil,” I tell him.
“But I don’t want Phil,” he counters in a sexy rasp.
“Yell for Phil to come up here if you’re not going to let me out of bed to help you with
the ice cream, you dork.” I roll my eyes, the only part of my face not hurting.
Smirking at me, he gives me no warning before he yells, “Whirlpool!” at the top of his lungs. “You know,” he says conversationally, as we hear my brother stomp up the stairs, “You’re going to have to share why you call him that.”
As I laugh under my breath, I agree while we wait for Phil to throw open the door in his normal style. “You bellowed, bratwurst?” Phil drawls as he strolls into my room.
Oh. Hell. No. He. Did. Not.
“Are you kidding me right now, Phillip? Did you just go there? You better send your husband up for everything, and I mean everything. I might get out of this bed and get stabby real soon. Ow!” I forgot my head and cheek temporarily in my hissy fit at my brother.
“Tsk, Tsk, Cass. You need to be careful. What do you need, Caleb?” As he walks farther into the room, he sees Caleb’s hand suspended over the bowl of formerly chocolate-peanut butter ice cream and begins to laugh. “Okay, so first, a towel and wash cloth. Then some more ice cream, perhaps?” Smirking, Phil goes into and reemerges from my bathroom with some older towels. “You know, Cassidy, if you’re going to get into this food play stuff more, you really need to get darker colored sheets and towels.”
I grab the bowl of melted ice cream. As I start to hoist it in the air, Phil snags it from me before dashing for the door, laughing. “Calm down, Little Girl. You need some more food before you take your next dose of pain meds. Caleb, I was just about to come get you anyway. Cassidy, Keene’s here too, sweetie. Oh, by the way, I totally get why Ali banged him. The daggers are about to fly downstairs.” He pauses, and then says gleefully, “I don’t want to miss a thing!”
I suddenly realize I haven’t talked with Keene. Not only did he help save my life, but he’s my brother. I can’t avoid this forever. “Why don’t you send Keene up with it?” I say to Phil, but I’m talking to Caleb.
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