by Lily Cahill
“Where do you think you’re going?” His father had finally caught up to him. And it wasn’t just him. Clayton’s mother was right behind him.
“I’m going after her,” Clayton said. “I have to explain what you just did.”
“No, you’re not. You’re staying right here.”
“We had an agreement. You said you’d give her a chance. How dare you do that to her? Humiliate her like that? And Violet, too. Do you have any idea what it took for Cora to show up here tonight? She was terrified.”
“As well she should be,” his father said. “You don’t try to swindle the Briggs family and get away with it.”
“Swindle? Do you have any idea what she’s been through? How she’s had to fight, just to be with me? Her brother hit her when he thought we were together. Hit her.”
“Are you certain of this?” his mother asked. She seemed appalled.
“Yes. She puts herself at risk every single time she sees me. And everything she’s done—every single thing—has been to protect either her little sister or me.”
His father blustered. “Of course she’s making you believe that, but—”
“She’s not making me believe anything. I’ve seen it all first hand. She never once tried to take advantage of me. It’s you who’s manipulating the situation, not her.”
“Don’t you get it?” his father asked. “The marriage is the con. She’s pulled the wool over your eyes so thick you can’t even see it anymore.”
How had his father learned that he was planning to propose? Besides himself, there were only two people who knew that. “I’m marrying her because I want to marry her. I love her, and you’re just going to have to accept that.”
“Come to your senses, boy. That’s out of the question. You absolutely cannot marry her.”
“You’ve tried to raise me to be a good person. And I know I don’t always do things in the same way you’d do them, but I do try to do the right thing in my own way,” Clayton said. “I’m the best version of myself when I’m with her. If you gave her a chance, you would see that. I love her, father. She’s what I want. She’s the only one I want.”
“Are you insane? If you even mention her again—God help me, I’ll change the terms of your trust fund. You won’t get a single penny.”
“Lowell, wait—” his mother tugged at his father’s arm, trying to pull him back.
“To hell with my trust fund,” Clayton said.
His father yanked away from his mother.
“You’d really throw it all away on that girl? You’d choose a Murphy over your own family?”
“Don’t make me choose, father. Because you won’t like my decision.”
Finally, the valet came around with his car. Clayton shoved a wad of cash into the boy’s hand and jumped into the car without even opening the door.
“Don’t you dare leave while I’m talking to you,” his father said.
“We’re done talking.”
“Let him go, Lowell,” his mother said. “I mean it.”
And something about the look in her eyes finally got through to his father. Lowell stepped away, looked at his wife.
Clayton didn’t wait to see what their conversation would entail. He started the car. But he only got ten feet before he heard another voice.
“Clayton! Wait!”
Clayton hit the brakes and turned to see Violet rushing toward him. She put her hands on the car door, breathless.
“Let me come with you.”
“Vi—”
“Not for that. I know—I know it’s not me. I know you don’t want me. I do. I just … I want to help.”
“I’ve already lost enough time.”
“Please, just let me help you. It’s the least I can do.”
“I can handle this on my own.”
“She’ll trust it more if she hears it from both of us. Please, Clay.”
“Fine. Get in.”
Violet yanked the door open and slid inside as Clayton peeled out of the long driveway.
“I need to tell you something,” she said. “I did something terrible. This is all my fault.”
Clayton’s jaw set into a firm line as Violet explained what she had done—going straight to his parents after they’d met in the jewelers and telling them he was about to propose.
“I’m so sorry, Clay. Really I am. I thought she was trying to hurt you, to take advantage. I was wrong.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Clayton said, though he felt little generosity toward her in that moment. “Keep your eyes open for Cora. She couldn’t have gotten far.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Cora
Cora raced through the wooded path that led down from the supper club toward the town below. She was going so fast she didn’t even feel it as the branches ripped at her dress, caught in her hair. Tears were crashing down her cheeks, threatening to drown her.
She had never felt so humiliated in all her life. All those people staring, laughing at her behind their eyes, happy to see her put in her place, happy to see a Murphy made a fool of once again. And Clayton too, looking at her from up on stage, his eyes so sad, his head shaking as if to tell her there was no hope. As if to tell her it was over.
Had Clayton really chosen Violet? It seemed impossible. He truly loved Cora, she knew he did. She was sure she knew him well enough to know at least that.
But Violet’s face.
Her face.
It was like watching a movie of every big screen proposal she’d ever seen. Violet had truly believed Clayton was hers. Why would she think that if it wasn’t at least a little bit true? Cora had known he would eventually find someone else. But she had never given thought to who that someone else might be. Could Violet have been waiting in the wings all along?
The hints had been there. How upset Violet had been earlier today. The way she had seen Violet touch him at the diner. Hadn’t Clayton told her before their first date that he and Violet would always be close?
Cora broke out onto the open road and nearly collided with an oncoming car, its headlights glaring against the black of night. The vehicle swerved to miss her and came to a stop. She could barely see past her tears they were so thick.
“Hey there, sweet cheeks,” Ralph’s voice called out to her.
Ralph. She couldn’t handle Ralph right now.
“Whatcha’ doing out here? You need a ride?”
She swiped at her face, tried to dry it. She didn’t want Ralph to see her crying. But it was so hard to stop. The waves of heartbreak were cascading over her—relentless, unforgiving, nonstop.
“No, thank you,” she said.
“Come on. You gonna walk home alone in that fancy dress of yours?”
There was another sound—a low hum she recognized. She looked up the mountain. Coming down the switchbacks toward them was Clayton’s silver convertible. And if she wasn’t mistaken, Violet was in the passenger seat next to him. A wave of blond hair caught the moonlight as the car took the curves dangerously fast. It had to be her. Who else would it be?
If there was any hope left in her heart, it was gone now.
She couldn’t ignore the truth. Clayton’s father had forced him to choose, and Clayton had chosen his trust fund over her. What other explanation could there be?
Clayton was engaged to Violet Miller. He wouldn’t be hers to love. He could never be hers again.
The tears started fresh, and she couldn’t hide them from Ralph. She didn’t have the strength for it.
“Come on, sugar. Don’t cry. I hate it when girls cry. Just let me give you a ride home.”
“Fine,” she said, and circled around to get into Ralph’s car.
“What’s got you down?” Ralph asked. “Is it that Briggs kid? You try to get him back?”
Cora didn’t say anything, just folded her hands on her lap as Ralph sped down the road.
“I hate to say I told you so, but we all sorta told you so on that one. You don’t belong with a guy like t
hat,” he reached out for her hand. “You belong with one of your own.”
Cora pulled her hand away. She didn’t have the energy to spar with him right now. Let him think whatever he wanted about she and Clayton. It didn’t matter anymore.
She heard that low rumble again and realized Clayton had already caught up to them. Why was he doing this? Why wouldn’t he just let her go? Couldn’t he see that the promise he’d made to say goodbye was too cruel now?
“Go faster,” she said. “Can you please go faster?”
Ralph turned to her and grinned. “‘Course I can. This ain’t no sissy car.”
Cora had no idea what kind of car Ralph had and she didn’t care. All she cared about was that she wouldn’t have to see Clayton and Violet together. An image flashed into her mind of Violet leaning her lips close to his neck—his perfect, strong neck—and she felt the tears threatening her yet again. She couldn’t bear it if she saw them like that. She would crumble.
She felt the car buck and take off, flying down the street like it was propelled by jets. For once, she was glad Ralph was around. His car was fast, and Ralph wasn’t being shy with the gas pedal. Cora peeked into the side mirror and saw Clayton’s car grow smaller behind them.
But just as fast as Ralph had sped up, so had Clayton. The low rumble turned into a hard growl and the distance between them started to collapse.
“Faster. Please?” Cora asked.
“She’s going as fast as she can.”
“Isn’t there anything you can do to lose them?”
Again, Ralph grinned and gunned it.
At the last possible second—so fast Cora thought it might have knocked the wind out of her—Ralph took a sharp turn onto a side street. She heard the squeal of brakes behind them as Clayton’s car screeched to a halt.
The gap between the cars grew. Ralph took another sharp turn and another. He was going so fast Cora couldn’t tell where they were. She had lost track. The streets were blurring together.
Finally, Ralph slowed down a bit.
“That should do it,” he said.
Cora looked into the side mirror again. Thank God. Clayton’s car was nowhere to be found.
“Thank you, Ralph. You’ve been very kind tonight.” It was the nicest thing she could think to say. She’d never liked him. But there was a good side to everyone, and Ralph was showing his good side now.
Just as she was thinking this, Ralph reached under his seat and retrieved a bottle of whiskey. He shoved it toward her.
“Have some. It’ll calm your nerves.”
“No, thank you,” she said, suddenly questioning how much he’d had to drink tonight.
“Suit yourself,” Ralph said, and took a large swig straight from the bottle.
“Please put that away. It’s not safe.”
“Oh, honey. That’s just a myth. Actually makes me a better driver.” He took another swig.
“Pull over,” she said. She tried to keep her voice calm but direct. She didn’t want to upset him, but she wasn’t about to drive any further with him drinking behind the wheel.
“I knew you’d come around some day,” he said, speeding up a bit.
“I’m serious. Pull over.”
“Little chickie is excited, isn’t she?” he said. “Don’t worry, honey pie, I’ll pull over real soon.”
“Ralph, please. Just pull the car over.”
This time, he just grinned and gunned it harder. Then he took another sharp turn and came to an abrupt stop. Cora realized they were parked near the river, underneath a stand of thick trees that obscured their view from the road. The spot was on high enough ground that she could see the mountains in the distance, and the shimmering surface of the lake between them. She’d passed the place before, but had never stopped there herself. It was a popular spot boys took girls to go parking. But right now, they were the only ones there.
She jiggled the handle to let herself out, but it was stuck.
“Yeah. That one’s tricky from the inside. Been meaning to fix it, but somehow I never got around to it.” The look on his face told her that Ralph had no intention of ever getting around to it. She wondered if he’d broken the handle intentionally.
He scooted toward her, slinked a hand around her shoulders.
“Let me out, Ralph. This isn’t going to go the way you want it to.”
“Come on, Cora. Show a little gratitude, why don’t you?”
She tossed his arm off her shoulder, but he only put his other one on her waist—sliding it up until it was on her breast. She smacked it away.
“This isn’t funny, Ralph. I demand you let me out. Right this instant.”
“You always thought you were too good for me, didn’t you? Not so high and mighty anymore.”
His hand was on her breast again, squeezing it hard, so hard it hurt.
“Get off!”
But then his mouth smothered hers—greedy and smelling of alcohol. His tongue swept over her puckered lips, searching for entrance. His hands were pressing her down. His knees were over her, spreading her legs, ripping the seam of her dress up to her thigh.
He was strong—too strong. Stronger than her. Cora couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fight him. Instead, she screamed.
“Ain’t no one gonna hear you over the river. Why not enjoy it? Lord knows I will.”
“No!” she yelled.
The panic was setting in, threatening to make her shut down completely. She tried to breathe, tried to think. There had to be something she could do.
And then she realized there was. Of course there was.
She could use her power.
They were only steps from the river. All she had to do was see it. If she could just see it, she could use it.
She struggled to sit up, but it was no use. Her head was mashed against the bottom of the seat and Ralph had her pinned down with the weight of his body. She couldn’t breathe.
Oh God. Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh God.
But in the next instant he reached down to unbuckle his belt, freeing one of her arms. She used the moment to punch him in the face. She wasn’t exactly a prize fighter, but being a Murphy had some advantages. She knew how to punch.
It caught him in his left eye. He reeled back. The force wasn’t enough to drop him, but it gave her time. There was only a moment, a split second as his other hand flew to his face. But it was all she needed. She bucked against him and launched her body upright.
She could see it. She could see the water.
She extended her hand, willed it toward the car.
A giant wave hit the driver’s side, knocking the car onto its side. Ralph went flying, but she was prepared. She braced herself as the car tumbled. As soon as it settled she was climbing over him to the driver’s side door, throwing it open, pulling herself out and jumping down to the ground.
She took in giant lungfuls of air, trying to calm herself. She had done it. She had escaped.
Then there was movement behind her.
Ralph.
Climbing out of the car.
Her trick hadn’t knocked him out, just stalled him.
She ran.
But he ran faster—just a whisper away from grabbing her again. She couldn’t bear the thought of him touching her like that—of anyone touching her like that—of anyone’s hands in the same places that Clayton’s had been. Oh God, she wished she could go back to how things had been just an hour ago. But she couldn’t think about that—about him—right now. She looked to the river, and knew what she had to do.
This time, her direction was more focused, more precise. The water rose from the river like the hand of God.
“What the hell’s that?” Ralph said, slurring his words as he watched the churning tower speed toward him. All the force of it hit him square in the chest, so hard and so fast that it sent him flying through the air and crashing into a tree.
He staggered up—his stance wobbly, his face and arms sc
ratched—and started toward her again.
God, she wanted to hurt him. She wanted to end him. But she wouldn’t. Not yet. She’d give him one more chance to be a decent human being.
“Leave me alone, Ralph. Leave me alone or I’ll do it again.”
“Huh?” he said.
She could see now that his movements were slowing. Either the alcohol was finally kicking in, or he had knocked his head on the tree. Maybe it was both.
She thought she might be able to outrun him now. She turned to head back toward the road.
And that’s when she saw the headlights of someone’s car as it made a sharp turn, then skidded to a halt behind a stand of bushes blocking her view. Clayton. It had to be Clayton.
Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? It would break her heart to see him with Violet. She couldn’t bear it.
She ran.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Clayton
“Stay here,” Clayton told Violet as he parked behind a copse of trees and brush near the river. He didn’t know what was going on, but he’d seen Cora get into Ralph’s car and knew she was using her powers. He’d heard the swell of the waters, the loud crash of them against the ground.
What if she was in danger? The thought terrified him.
Clayton dashed out of the car, toward the headlights that were shining through the trees at what appeared to be an odd angle. He hoped to God she was okay.
It seemed like the brush here was endless. He batted his way through the tall bushes until he finally broke through into a clearing and saw her.
Oh God.
She looked awful. Her dress was torn and her hair was mussed and it looked like she had scratches on her face and arms and legs and—if Ralph had laid a single hand on her, so help him, he would kill the bastard. And she was running, too. Running away.
“Cora,” he said, rushing up behind her and sweeping her into his arms.
“No,” she said, pulling away from him. “I can’t. I can’t.”
“It’s okay,” he said, turning her shoulders to face him. “It’s okay.”
The fight seemed to leave her. Her fierce, small body just gave up. She buried herself in his chest, tears wracking her whole being. He had never seen her cry like this, had never seen her so distraught.