by Pippa Grant
“You’d do that?” she asks in a hushed voice. “For me? Leave your brothers and your parents and everything you’ve ever known?”
“That’s the thing,” I say, swallowing hard as I debate whether or not to speak the words on the tip of my tongue. But fuck it. Fear never got me anywhere I want to be. “I’ve known all of those things. I’ve never known anything like this. Like you. And the way I feel when I’m with you.”
Her bottom lip begins to tremble and a second later a tear slides down her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” I say, hating myself for pushing too far, too fast. “I should have kept my mouth shut. It’s too soon, I’m sorry, we don’t have—”
“Hush.” She covers my lips with her fingers as she swipes her tears away with the other hand. “No, it’s not too soon. And no, you shouldn’t have. I’m so glad you said something. I was afraid I was the only one.”
“The only one who needs us to be in the same town?” I ask, relief taking the edge off my mini heart attack.
“The only one who’s falling in love with you,” she whispers.
My chest explodes. Or implodes. Or maybe that’s just my heart doing the happy dance in a way I’ve never experienced before. Whatever it is that’s happening to me, I don’t want it to stop.
“I’m already there,” I say, cupping her face in my hand.
Her eyes start to shine again, but she’s smiling so big I know she’s not sad. She’s along for this ride with me, wherever it’s going to take us.
“You don’t have to move to San Francisco,” she says. “I’m coming home. I already decided. Tonight. Three hours ago, in fact, when I was lying in bed feeling miserable because I couldn’t imagine going back to a world where you’re not right next door.”
I’m about to ask her—How about a world where your house is my house?
I’m going to do it, ask her to move in with me on the spur of the moment, because that’s what love makes you do, I guess, when the emergency alert on my phone goes off.
I curse softly and reach an arm for the bedside table. “Sorry. That’s work. It must be something serious or they wouldn’t be calling me back after less than two hours off.” But when I pick up the phone, it isn’t dispatch with instructions for where I need to show up and when.
It’s the chief.
“You still awake?” Jessie asks.
“Yeah, I’m awake.” I frown as I prop myself against the pillows. “What’s up? Did that fire out by the highway flare up again? You need me back in?”
“No, nothing like that I…” She sighs. “I just thought you might still be up, and I wanted you to hear the latest development in the Sunderwell case from me.”
I cut a quick glance Cassie’s way to find her watching me with calm, clear eyes, making me think she can’t hear Jessie’s side of the conversation. I force a tight smile. “Sure, just a second, let me run get a pen.”
“A pen?” Jessie’s surprise echoes in my ear as I pull on pajama pants and head for the door. “You’re not alone there, are you?”
“No, it’s fine. You didn’t wake me,” I reply—awkwardly—because I’m terrible at lying. As soon as I’m on the other side of the kitchen, far enough away to be sure Cassie won’t hear me, I add in a soft voice, “No, I’m not alone. Cassie’s here.”
Jessie sighs. “Then you should come talk to me. If it’s gone that far with you two, you’re going to need a friendly ear after you hear the latest.”
A frown claws at my forehead. “Hear what? Cassie didn’t start that fire, Jessie. I’m sure of it. I don’t care what the new evidence is. It’s wrong.”
“It’s inadmissible in court. It’s not wrong,” Jessie says, the compassion in her voice making my stomach clench with worry. “Just meet me at Dough on the Square in fifteen minutes, okay? I’ll buy you a coffee and a donut and we can talk.”
“I can’t, I have company.” I don’t want to leave Cassie alone in my bed, especially not to go hear some bullshit “inadmissible evidence” that came from God knows what source.
Probably the real arsonist, trying to throw small-town law enforcement off his scent.
“I’m serious, Ryan. This is big. I wouldn’t have called you right after your shift if it weren’t. If you don’t want to meet up, that’s fine. I get it. But you’re going to get an earful of this news sooner or later. If you’d like to have the chance to get out ahead of it, decide how you’re going to handle the fallout when it comes, then I’ll be at the donut shop in ten minutes.”
I drag a hand through my hair, eyes squeezing shut. “Okay. Fine. I’ll meet you in ten.”
“See you then,” Jessie says. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I didn’t want things to end up this way. I always thought Cassie and her sister were good people.”
They are good people, I want to shout, but instead I tell Jessie I’ll see her soon and end the call.
I’m in love with Cassie. I’ve seen every corner of her heart and I know she’s incapable of arson. But me shouting “she’s innocent” isn’t going to help put this behind us. The best thing I can do for Cassie is to go see Jessie, take a look at this bullshit evidence, and convince the chief they’re sniffing down the wrong trail.
I return to the bedroom to find George has let himself in through the now open door and is propped on my pillow next to Cassie, eating something gripped between his paws that’s hard to make out in the dim light.
“No eating in bed, Cooney.” I keep my tone light so Cassie won’t worry. “You know the rules.”
“But he brought me a present,” Cassie says, laughter in her voice as she holds up something on a stick.
I flick on the closet light, laughing as I see the penis lollipop she’s holding delicately between two fingers.
“It’s official then,” I say. “He loves you too.”
George chitters in response, making Cassie giggle.
She’s so happy, and hell if I’m going to let anything take that away. Jaw set, I tell Cassie I forgot something down at the station and will be right back. Then I dress and hurry out the door, ready to battle the powers that be until they back off the woman I love.
Twenty-Five
Cassie
* * *
“Cherry, lime…” I take another lick of the pop, eyes narrowing as I try to pinpoint the mystery ingredient. “Cilantro?”
George shoots me a “you’ve gotta be kidding” look, grabbing another grape off his furry belly before returning his attention to The Cat Whisperer. Just as Ryan promised, my furry friend is rapt and giving me no guff.
But George has clearly accepted me as his own, as evidenced by the thoughtful gift dissolving on my tongue. It actually isn’t half bad, considering its several years old and spent at least part of a night in a trashcan.
“But it was wrapped in plastic.” I hold the partially melted peen up for perusal. “So I’m probably not going die, right?”
George clucks back at me, and I smile. If someone had told me a month ago that I’d soon be relaxing in the bed of a man I’m madly in love with, chatting with his pet raccoon, and plotting my cross-country move from San Francisco to Happy Cat, I would have said they were looney in the toons.
But love is crazy, I guess.
The best kind of crazy.
I’m sure Savannah is going to think I’m nuts at first too, but she’ll be glad to have me home. I do the math, figuring out what time it is in the UK and decide to give my sister a call. Something like this isn’t the kind of news that should be delivered via text message.
I lean over, fumbling for my pajama shorts on the floor and tugging my cell from the back pocket only to yip in surprise and drop the phone back onto the carpet when it begins to ring.
George bleats disapprovingly as I plop my feet off the bed. “I know, I know. It’s probably your dad, calling to make sure we’re getting along all right.”
But when I flip the screen over, it isn’t Ryan’s number. It’s from an area code I don’t recogn
ize. My first thought is that it must be a robo-call, but the spam centers usually have better timing, and a call at five in the morning is odd enough I feel compelled to answer.
I hit the answer button and bring the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Cassandra?” The voice is garbled, robotic, and instantly sends gooseflesh rippling across my skin.
“Who is this?” I ask, my heart beating fast in my throat.
“A friend. Or an enemy, depending on how you play your cards,” the voice says, pushing on before I can tell him I’m not playing games, not with him or any of the other people trying to shut down my sister’s company. That has to be what this is about. “Pay close attention, Cassandra. I’m prepared to give the police everything they need to pin the fire at Sunshine Toys on you and your sister.”
“Bullshit,” I snap, my hands beginning to shake. “You don’t have evidence because Savannah and I had nothing to do with the fire.”
“So you say. But who are the police going to believe? Two town rejects who never fit in around here in the first place? Or evidence with your fingerprints all over it and eyewitnesses willing to testify that they saw you coming in and out of the factory in the early morning the day of the fire?”
“Those people would be lying and my fingerprints are all over everything at the factory because I work there, genius. I—”
“I’m not interested in arguing. You’re in over your head and the only way out is to play nice, sweetheart. If you want to stay out of jail, you’ll meet me at the factory in thirty minutes to discuss terms. Come alone and don’t tell anyone about this call. If you do, I’ll know, and I pull the trigger. Once I set the dominos to falling, life as you know it is over, Cassie. Forever. So hurry up and get dressed. I’ll be waiting.”
There’s a sharp click as the call disconnects. I curse, jaw clenching tight, and toss the phone on the bed.
George shoots me a curious look as I drive a hand into my hair and make a fist.
“I don’t know,” I mumble, pacing toward the window and then back to the bed, pulse pounding. “He doesn’t have any evidence—there’s no way he could—but he’s right. If people are willing to lie and this asshole has doctored something to make it look like I’m behind this…”
I bite down hard on my lip. I want to call Ryan so much it’s all I can do to keep from diving for the phone.
But the man said he would know.
He also told me to get dressed…
A shiver racing up my spine, I hurry to the window and tug the curtains closed. My arms are shaking so badly it takes three tries to get them all the way shut.
“It’s the butt crack of dawn,” I mumble. “Maybe he just assumed I was in pajamas and would need to change.”
But my racing heart isn’t buying that and neither is George, who rolls onto his feet, fussing as I grab a pair of Ryan’s track pants from his bottom drawer. “I know it’s a dumb idea,” I say, “but I have to go. I don’t have a choice.”
George whine-growls.
“I’ll be careful, I promise.”
He plops down on his bottom in the middle of the bed, looking lost.
I can empathize…
Silently assuring myself that the factory is so close to downtown that all I’ll have to do is call for help if things get creepy, I pull the pants on, rolling them up at the waist and tugging the drawstring tight. I pair them with a black tee shirt that proclaims Wild Hog Wild and Proud of It across the front and slip into the flip-flops I wore across the grass to Ryan’s place.
If I’m going to get to the factory in ten minutes, I’ll have to hurry. There isn’t time to run home and change.
Shit. I picked up a nail in my car tire yesterday and haven’t fixed the flat yet. I’ll have to ride my bike. Even pedaling at top speed and taking the shortcut, I’ll be cutting it close.
But it’s fine. I’ll just ride in quietly in my black clothes, figure out who this asshole is, and get home as fast as possible.
If I’m lucky, I’ll be back in bed before Ryan, with the Sunshine Toys disaster handled and the future looking nothing but bright.
But as I pump hard through the eerie quiet of early morning, the sun still so low the sky is the color of an ugly bruise, every cell in my body screams that I’m making a mistake.
A scary, potentially profound mistake.
Twenty-Six
Ryan
* * *
Jessie’s waiting for me in front of the donut shop, her hands tucked into the pockets of her HCFD windbreaker, a nod to the breezy morning. It’s cool now, but in another hour or two, once the summer sun peeks over the horizon, it’s going to warm up fast. I make a mental note to turn the air conditioning on before I crawl back in bed with Cassie.
Because I will be getting back in bed with Cassie.
Whatever Jessie has to share with me, it’s not going to change my mind about a future with the woman I love.
“Step around back for a second?” Jessie nods toward the alley between Dough on the Square Donuts and the mortuary next door.
I smile. “Going full cloak and dagger?”
Jessie doesn’t smile back. “Just don’t want to risk anyone else getting an earful of this. I probably shouldn’t be sharing it with you, but…” She shrugs, but I have no trouble filling in the mental blanks.
I’m like a kid brother to her. Jessie was on the team that pulled me out of the fire that almost claimed my life via a massive case of smoke inhalation and has had a soft spot for me ever since. She’s my boss, yes, but she’s also my mentor and friend. She’s also a rule-follower, and the fact that she’s willing to bend the rules for this makes my stomach clench as I nod and follow her around to the side of the building.
“Sometimes this feels like a warning I’m choosing to ignore.” She motions to the ramp leading up to the mortuary’s side entrance mere feet from the bakery. “The consequences of donuts and all.”
I grunt in agreement. “Yeah, I think I’ll skip the cruller today.”
“You’re a better man than I am. Life’s too short to skip the jelly donut. Especially if it’s raspberry jelly.”
I cross my arms, studying Jessie’s face in the glow of the streetlight spilling into the alley. “Life’s too short not to be loyal to the people you care about too. I feel like a traitor being here.”
“I know. I’m sorry about that. But…” She pulls her phone from her pocket and swipes, punching in the code to unlock the screen. “Have a listen for yourself.”
She taps a voice memo and a familiar voice crackles through the air. It’s not a great connection on the recording, but I know it’s Cassie the second she says, “You’re going to be okay. Better than okay. You’re going to come out the other side of this stronger than ever. No doubt in my mind.”
The person on the other end of the line sobs and Cassie makes a soft, clucking sound of sympathy. When she speaks again, her words are thick with emotion. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I hate that he hurt you. I want to fly down there right now, wrap my hands around his lying, cheating, sheep-abusing neck and strangle him.”
“It is sheep abuse,” Savannah wails. “He said they were in love, but a sheep doesn’t have feelings. Not like that. A sheep can’t choose, Cassie. A sheep is just a sheep!”
“I know, I know.” Cassie growls. “Argh. That creep should be in jail.”
Savannah’s next sob ends in a bitter laugh. “Yeah, right. Steve’s still a pillar of the community. No one wants to believe it. I’m the deviant who owns a sex toy factory. A sucky sex toy factory that’s probably going to be out of business by the end of the year.”
“That’s not true,” Cassie says. “Things are going well, you said so yourself just last week.”
“Not well enough and I’m too tired to fix it now. I’ve lost my will to care about orgasms. I hate orgasms. I hate sex. And I hate sheep. And I hate half the people in this town for loving Steve so much. They don’t even believe me. I hate everything.”
&nbs
p; Cassie makes hushing noises for a long beat and Jessie and I exchange uncomfortable looks. It feels wrong to be eavesdropping on a private conversation, but I’m assuming we’re getting close to the allegedly incriminating part, a hunch confirmed with Savannah sobs, “I just want to run away, Cass. Torch my life, run away, and let it burn.”
I frown. If this is the evidence, they’re reaching hard for it. Savannah’s clearly talking figuratively, not literally. I’m about to say as much when Cassie’s voice pipes up again.
“And if it comes to that, I’ll help you, okay? But let me come down there and fill in for you first. You can take a trip, and I’ll mind the factory while you’re gone. That way you can take time to heal before you decide what you really want to do.”
“Burn it down,” Savannah mumbles. “Burn it all down.”
“Okay, okay,” Cassie soothes. “We’ll figure it out. Just don’t do anything crazy before I get there to help, okay?”
Jessie taps the end button. “There’s more, but that’s the relevant part.”
“It’s a stretch, chief,” I say, shaking my head. But I can’t deny there’s a whisper of doubt in my head that wasn’t there before. I’m still ninety percent sure this is an innocent conversation taken out of context, but…
“It is,” Jessie agrees. “And like I said on the phone, it’s inadmissible in court. But the fingerprints they pulled from the chemical drums Sheriff Briggs found at the dump yesterday are going to be enough to put Cassie in a tough spot.”
“What chemical drums?” I ask, propping my hands low on my hips.
“The sheriff got an anonymous tip from a concerned citizen, probably the same one who sent him this conversation.”
“How did they get their hands on that conversation, by the way?” I ask, jabbing a finger at Jessie’s phone. “That was clearly private.”
Jessie’s shoulders rise and fall. “I don’t know. Maybe someone was recording outgoing calls from the factory. Or maybe someone suspected Savannah was on the verge of doing something dangerous and tapped her phone.”