“Now if you’ll just have Miss Clark sign, I can be on my way.”
Thomas blinked. “Excuse me?”
“This is a package deal, son.”
“I can’t ask her to sign this! She had no idea she was being broadcast.”
“So you say.”
“It’s the truth!”
“Either she signs it or you both face a lawsuit.”
“But this isn’t her fault!” Territorial rage roared in Thomas’s veins. Protect her. “She has nothing to do with this.”
Cranston narrowed his eyes. “She’s got everything to do with this. The moment you read her name on air, read her words to the world, you made her a part of this, whether she wanted it or not. So I don’t care what you have to say or how you have to force her, but get her to sign the damn contract or you’re going to jail. Both of you.”
Pure, unfiltered rage ripped through Thomas and he grabbed Cranston’s collar, heaving him against the wall with so much force the picture frames fell from the nails, shattering on the floor.
“Careful,” Cranston hissed. His eyes flicked toward the switchboard on the wall. “America is listening,” he whispered with a wink.
Horror crippled Thomas as he let go. Mr. Cranston quickly righted himself, smoothing his suit. He dropped the contract on top of the piano, turning to face Thomas. “You have one week to get her to sign the contract or it’ll be the police who knock on your door next.”
Then he exited the house, leaving a wake of suffocating fear.
Thomas paced the room. How could he have been so stupid? He only had a basic knowledge of the equipment in this house. What on earth had made him think he knew what he was doing? He swore under his breath. His ineptitude had cost him the most precious gift he’d ever received—Cassidy’s trust.
He trusted every touch, every tender kiss they’d exchanged last night. And the passion? You couldn’t fake something like that. He felt it in a part of him that he hadn’t even known existed until she’d woken it. And she had shared a part of herself with him, finally trusting him enough to stop hiding the vibrant beauty she kept locked up behind her detached façade. Last night had been more than sex. It had meant something to Thomas. And he was sure that it meant something to Cassidy too. She’d been about to admit it before the smarmy radio executive had shown up. But now, after what she overheard from Cranston, she would never admit it. And Thomas couldn’t blame her.
Exasperated, Thomas ran his hands through his thick hair. He’d ruined everything. How could he explain this to Cassidy? There’s no way she would believe he hadn’t known he was broadcasting them to the station. She would never give him another chance. Not to mention that she would never sign the contract. And how could he even ask her to? It was too personal. All of their secrets, their scars, their desires. Their souls had been bared, revealed to the world.
It left Thomas shivering as icy dread crept up his spine. He needed to break the news to Cassidy. As hard as it would be, he owed her the truth. He would try to explain the best he could and leave it all up to her. This would be her choice. He didn’t so much care what the repercussions were to him. He had no one left to worry about disappointing. But Cassidy . . . Thomas couldn’t stand to hurt her anymore than she’d already been hurt. She’d barely begun to allow him past whatever had wounded her so deeply that she kept her heart locked away, buried under anger and resentment.
His feet leaden, Thomas trudged up the dark staircase that led to the attic. From the way his heart thundered, he might as well have been marching to his own execution.
Chapter 25
Cassidy
Cassidy heard Thomas outside her door. He stood there for what seemed like an eternity—never knocking, never speaking. She quickly wiped the tears from her face and tried to pull the broken pieces of her heart back together one last time. She fished around under her bed until she found her bottle of gin. She hadn’t had any in almost a week. She uncapped it and took a healthy gulp for courage. Then another. Still Thomas remained silent on the other side of her door.
Finally her frustration won out and she hollered at the door. “Leave me alone, Thomas.”
“Cassidy, I . . . please let me explain.”
Cassidy marched to the door and flung it open. She was startled by the grave expression on Thomas’s face. Tears clung to the path his scars etched on his once handsome face. Her heart faltered for a fraction of a second, but when she saw the crumpled legal papers in his hands she crossed her arms, holding herself together and calling upon her quiet rage.
“Congratulations are in order, then?” she asked nodding to the contract.
“I promise you I had no idea—”
Cassidy glared at Thomas, cutting him off. “Please, don’t patronize me.”
He looked pleadingly at her, but seemed unable to find anything to say.
“So let’s see it.” She held her hand out for the contract.
“Cassidy . . .”
“What? I want to know what I was worth.”
“Please don’t say that. It wasn’t like that.”
“Wasn’t it?” she asked grabbing the contract from him and flipping to the last page. The sight of his signature on the bottom line nearly undid her. Then she noticed an empty line with her name neatly typed below it.
“What exactly did they hear?” she asked.
“Everything.”
“Everything?”
“The room broadcasts to the studio 24/7. They cut and broadcast our conversations. Even when we didn’t know we were on air.”
Cassidy’s face paled. “So last night . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to finish her thought. She swallowed back her tears and turned to him. “I have one question. How did I become entangled in this game? How does the radio station know who I am? I never said my full name.”
“I . . . I did. I read your writing out loud, but not as part of some game. I love your words and I wanted to hear them voiced. I read them over and over and I said your name because it was written on the poems and letters. But I never thought anything like this would come of it. I swear it, Cassidy.”
Her heart fell. Her name . . . attached to her words. That was it then. It was over. Writing her love story for Jacob would be a joke now. Everyone would know what she had done with Thomas. That she was nothing more than the small town harlot they’d always told her she was. Spreading her legs while still mourning a war hero. This tarnished every word she’d written for Jacob. It made their love a yarn. And she supposed that’s all it ever was anyway—a cruel joke of fate. Letting her find the one good man in her godforsaken town only to take him away.
Cassidy laughed as the irony of it all settled upon her. She looked at Thomas as her laughter bubbled over. “It doesn’t matter. It was just a game for me, too.”
Thomas gawked at her. “Don’t say that, Cassidy. Last night meant something.”
“Did you really think I would fall for someone like you?” she laughed again. “Don’t flatter yourself, Thomas. You’re a wanna be musician with a scarred up face. I was just bored. ”
“Stop it!” Thomas yelled taking a step into the room. “Stop all the bullshit. I know you’re hurt and shocked. But so am I, damn it. I didn’t plan any of this. I promise you. This wasn’t some elaborate scheme.”
“No?” she asked holding the contract up to him. “Well you sure could have fooled me with this signature.”
“I had to sign it! They’ll sue us. Both of us! I’m trying to protect you.”
“Don’t bother.”
Cassidy stalked to her desk and grabbed a pen, scribbling her name next to Thomas’s with teary vision. Before the ink even had a moment to dry she folded the contract and shoved it into Thomas’s chest pushing him back and out of her room.
“Here! You got what you wanted. Now leave me alone.”
“This isn’t what I want!” Thomas placed his hand over Cassidy’s where she clutched the contract to his chest. “I want you,” he whispered slipping th
e contract from her fingers and tearing it in half.
“Then you’re a fool.” She turned away from Thomas, wiping the traitorous tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Cass . . .”
Fury gripped Cassidy, hearing Jacob’s nickname on Thomas’s tongue. “Shut up!” she screamed. “You don’t get to call me that. In fact, you don’t get to call me anything. You got what you came for. Sex and money!” Hysterical laughter choked off the storm of sobs that were trying to get out. “And I’m the fool for thinking you were different.”
“Please—”
Cassidy smacked Thomas before he could get the words out that he’d been stumbling over.
“I said, leave me alone! I don’t want to hear your excuses. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to me. I just want you to leave me alone!”
She watched Thomas’s face fall as he clutched his cheek.
“Get out,” she hissed.
And he did. Slowly retreating backwards, Thomas left her room and she slammed the door shut. Locking it before she collapsed onto her bed, shaking from the searing pain in her chest. Cassidy uncapped her bottle and slugged from it until the gin started to burn away the pain to a dull, familiar throb. Bleary-eyed, Cassidy slid under the covers, curling the bottle into her chest as she cried herself to sleep.
Chapter 26
Thomas
Thomas sat at the bottom of the attic stairs for a long time. He held the torn contract in his hands. He couldn’t stop staring at the tearstain that smeared Cassidy’s signature. Despair tore through him. He couldn’t believe what he’d done—to Cassidy, to himself. His stomach lurched and Thomas raced to the bathroom to heave up his guilt.
When he had nothing left to expel he pulled himself to his numb feet, grasping the sink for support. He splashed cold water over his face but it did nothing to alleviate the sickness that washed over him. He was hot and cold, peaked and hollow. He recoiled at the reflection staring back at him. His own image made him wince with self-loathing. He was a fool. How could anyone love him? Especially someone like Cassidy.
Rage sparked inside Thomas as he took in his disgraceful appearance. He roared his disgust and slammed his fist into the mirror, over and over, until it was as shattered as his soul.
A few hours later, after cleaning the bathroom of broken glass and blood, Thomas stood by the lake, flexing his bandaged hand. He was almost certain he’d broken something. It served him right. He didn’t deserve to play the piano. It had only ever brought grief anyway. To his parents and now to Cassidy.
Just thinking her name made it hard for Thomas to breathe. He picked up a rock and threw it into the lake. It skipped once before it sank. After countless more failed attempts to throw with his uninjured left hand Thomas gave up. Throwing left handed was useless. And no amount of exertion would make him feel better. Nothing but Cassidy’s forgiveness would alleviate his pain. But he’d seen the hatred in her eyes. She’d never forgive him. He glanced up at her attic window. The light was still out. Tendrils of steam floated from Thomas’s labored breath. It was freezing outside. Thomas stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed back toward the house. He had suffered enough for one day. He could begin again tomorrow.
Once inside, Thomas retreated back to his room to sulk in loneliness and misery. Resigning himself to a future filled with it.
Chapter 27
Cassidy
The next week passed slowly. The house was deathly silent, but Cassidy was so deep in her gin-induced haze that she barely noticed. She wrote all manner of apologies and suicide letters, but none of them were ever good enough. She filled the trash bin with everything she wrote and eventually she threw the entire manuscript she’d written for Jacob into the trash bin too. It was useless now. No one would believe a word she said after hearing her sexual escapades broadcast on the radio. She didn’t care about herself. She had no pride left. And she certainly didn’t care about her mother or stepfather. But she hated thinking that she had hurt Jacob’s family. Shame burned deep within her for their suffering.
Cassidy refused to let Jacob be reduced to a joke. He was a war hero, a son, a brother. He deserved more. She realized he deserved more than she ever could have given him. Perhaps it had been a blessing that he hadn’t returned from war. What if he came back and finally realized the mistake he’d made in promising himself to her? She’d always been waiting for the other shoe to drop—for him to realize she wasn’t good enough for him. Disappointing him and watching him leave her . . . Cassidy knew she never could have survived that. At least with him dead she could still hold on to her dream . . . still pretend they could have had a happily ever after.
She shuddered at her disgusting thoughts. She’d just admitted that it was a blessing that Jacob was dead because it was easier for her that way! What the hell kind of monster did that make her? She deserved to die. She needed to stop being so weak and just kill herself already. The world would be much better without her around to mess everything up. Jacob’s family could finally bury her indiscretions. Maybe her family could finally let go of all their transgressions too.
Would anyone mourn her?
Her mother had already cast her aside. Cassidy remembered the day clearly. It was when she had finally mustered the courage to go to her mother for help. She was fourteen when she confided to her mother that her stepfather was abusing her and forcing himself on her. Her mother had slapped her. Told her she was lying. And that if anything like that were to happen it was because Cassidy had asked for it. Her own mother had blamed Cassidy and told her she was too pretty for her own good. That was the day Cassidy had locked it up—her wild beauty, her open heart, her trust. Even her own mother hadn’t loved her. It was no wonder Cassidy was so broken.
Cassidy sighed. Yes, the world would be much better without her in it. Everyone could pretend she’d never existed and finally have the lives they wanted. And Thomas . . . he could have his career. He deserved that. The world hadn’t been kind to him either, but somehow he’d found a way not to let it harden him. He kept his heart open and she hated herself for damaging that part of him. She’d seen a piece of him break when he’d left her alone in the attic that day, clutching his cheek and the torn contract.
She’d heard him rioting about downstairs—smashing things up, frequenting the lake to throw rocks with a bandaged hand. This thing between them had broken a small part of what was good in Thomas. But still, he hadn’t given up. He’d been back at her attic door every day. At first he wanted to talk—speaking apologies through the door. But after days of silence he’d given up on words and only left meals on the landing outside her door. All of them, she left untouched. Along with the letters he slid under the door to her.
Cassidy only crept out of her room to use the bathroom, avoiding eye contact on the few occasions Thomas had been in her path. It would be easier for him this way. At least that’s what she told herself. If she let him in again, it would only hurt him more when she ended it. Which would be soon. She only had to finish one more letter.
Chapter 28
Thomas
Thomas glanced at the calendar. Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be a week from when Mr. Cranston had visited the Carter Ridge house and threatened to send the police back if he and Cassidy couldn’t agree to his terms. The contract still lay in pieces on the piano where Thomas had left it. He’d taken the phone off the hook days ago. It seemed everyone wanted a piece of Thomas and Cassidy. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t played a song or said a word in a week.
Reporters and other radio stations had been showing up since Cranston left. Thomas enjoyed firing the shotgun into the sky to run them off. It now rested next to the front door for easy access, though Thomas cautiously left the gun unloaded. Something about the desolate look in Cassidy’s eyes lately made him leery to leave a loaded weapon within her reach.
He flexed his right hand. His fingers ached but the swelling had gone down enough that he could move them again. It seemed nothing had broken after
all. His lack of piano playing was from sheer stubbornness not to give the radio station any more than they’d already taken from him. That, and the fact that the last good piece of Thomas that had remained, the last part of him that could still feel love and music, had been shredded by the words Cassidy hurled at him. And unlike his hand, Thomas was terrified that good part of him might never mend.
Thomas had been trying to talk to Cassidy all week. If he could just speak to her, maybe they could figure this mess out together. It killed him that he’d hurt her so much. Despite everything she’d said . . . even if it had only been a game to her, he still wanted to make things right. She didn’t deserve to think she’d been used. He couldn’t live with Cassidy thinking he’d taken advantage of her. Every moment they’d shared had meant something to him. And he was convinced the only way to rid himself of the nagging sickness he felt in his gut would be to prove Cassidy wrong. To show her that he didn’t want any of it—the fame, the fortune, the radio contract. He was desperate to find some way to prove his intentions for her had been true.
Thomas only had one card left to play. He’d been hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but he was out of time. He picked up the phone and made the call he’d been dreading. When it was over he called for a cab.
Mr. Cranston had overlooked one thing in his accusations. Thomas did have the means to fight him and pay for his airtime. Or he would after he sold his parents’ farm.
The family farm was still in his parents’ name. After they died, Thomas had been too injured to take care of officially switching the deed over to his name. And then when he recovered, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. Taking their names off the deed felt too final. So Mr. Cranston would have no idea that the farm was an asset Thomas could use against WOR.
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