Straight Up

by Charity Ferrell

  This isn’t the Cassidy I know.

  “You can ask me a thousand ways to Sunday, and it won’t happen,” she continues. “This is a part of myself that I’d like to keep private, and I hope you respect that.”

  I cast a glance in her direction and shift to get a better look at her. The blanket is being used to conceal the damage as if she doesn’t want me to be reminded of how bad it is.

  As if she doesn’t want either of us to be reminded of how bad it is.

  Is she protecting him or herself?

  “Are you shitting me?” I snap. “This isn’t me being overbearing or nosy. Someone assaulted you, and he needs to face the consequences for his actions.”

  Her voice turns almost robotic. “It happened. It’s over. I’m almost healed. Time to move on.”

  “Time to move on?” I huff out. “Time for you to get out of bed, and we’ll march our asses right into the police station.”

  “I’m not going to the police. The guy who did this …” She pauses to gesture to her chest, slight sniffles releasing from her, and I know her well enough to know she’s holding back her pain, her hurt, her tears. “He’s the reason I was arrested … the reason I got kicked out of college, out of my sorority, why I had community service. He’s already done enough to fuck up my life. I’m not trying to give him another reason to do more damage.”

  “He won’t fuck anything up. I promise. I’ll be here every night. I’ll be your personal bodyguard—whatever you need for you to be safe. Whoever that guy is, I swear, you won’t have to worry about him any longer.”

  She’s silent.

  Another trait I’m learning about Cassidy is her stubbornness.

  “Cass—”

  Frantically, with shaking arms, she jumps out of bed, as if it were on fire, and her voice cracks. “Discussion over.”

  I raise my voice. “Discussion not fucking over. I got your back, Cass. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

  “Just stop!” she screams, stabbing her finger in my direction. “I am done talking about this. You will not tell anyone, do you hear me?” There’s a mix of panic, anger, and determination in her tone. “If you do, I swear to God, I’ll never speak to you again.” Her eyes finally meet mine, her gaze a mirror of her tone, and she claps her hands over her hips.

  There is no changing her mind. She’s hell-bent on protecting this asshole.

  I clear my throat, prepared to say either she goes to the police or I tell her family, but I stop myself.

  What do I do?

  Keep quiet, so I don’t lose her?

  Go behind her back and tell someone, only to lose her?

  Not to mention, no way in hell am I leaving her alone here.

  Throwing one leg and then the other off the bed, I stand. She doesn’t say anything, only waits for my next move.

  I hold her gaze, praying she’s the one who changes her mind.

  Nothing.

  Heat burns at her cheeks.

  My eyes flash to her chest. The bruise is on full display now that the blanket isn’t there acting as a protector. My blood boils while endless thoughts of self-doubt and uneasiness flicker through my mind.

  “Fine,” I finally say, defeated. “I won’t say anything.” I hate myself as the words climb out of my mouth—with force and pressure.

  With regret.

  Her body softens, a weight dragged off her shoulders, and for a moment, I’m proud of myself for unwinding that tension. Then I remember what I did, what I said, and how I shouldn’t get any recognition for that because I agreed to keep this a secret between us.

  “Thank you,” she whispers, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around my waist.

  I bow my head, kissing her hair, and feel like a fucking coward.

  Loyalty.

  It’s a hard drug for me.

  A problematic drug for me.

  I could do what I’ve done all my life—be loyal and keep my mouth shut.

  After helping Cassidy undress and get into the shower, I step out of the bathroom and grab my phone from her bedroom.

  I call Archer, and when he answers, I say, “Hey, I need someone to cover for me tonight at the bar.”

  “Dude,” he grunts, “a little late notice. You can’t call in this late and expect it to be okay.”

  “Something came up.”

  “What’s that something?”

  “I can’t talk about it.”

  “Yeah, sorry, but I’m not letting you have the night off so you can spend time with a girl.”

  I clench my hand around the phone.

  Now’s not the time to mess with me, brother.

  “Oh, says the guy who went MIA for nearly a fucking week, and I covered for you,” I snap, attempting to keep my voice low in case Cassidy gets out of the shower soon.

  “That was different.” Agitation spreads along his words. “You can go to Cassidy’s after.”

  “I don’t want her alone.”

  “What?” That agitation alters into concern.

  I lower my voice. “I came to her house last night since she was ignoring my calls.”

  “That probably has something to do with Isla’s ass showing up at our place.”

  Pausing, I look from one side of the living room to the other before deciding to change my mind. With quick steps, I walk outside and shut the patio door behind me. What I’m about to do goes against everything I stand for, but I care about Cassidy too much. I have to tell someone before it eats away at me.

  I tighten the phone against my face. “That, and she has a big-ass bruise around her neck after being assaulted.”

  “What the fuck?” Archer yells into the phone.

  “Yeah, tell me about it. Now, do you understand why I’m not leaving her?” I kick at the grass with the same force I’d like to kick her assaulter’s ass.

  “Is she going to the cops?”

  “She refuses to.” My answer is a reminder of what I’m hiding for her. It’s also a reminder of what I’m not really hiding and how I’m deceiving her by telling Archer this.

  “Wait until her family finds out. No way will they let that slide. I’m surprised they haven’t shown up on her doorstep yet.”

  “She hasn’t told them, and my guess is, she won’t.”

  “The fuck? I can’t keep something like that from Maliki. He’s one of my closest friends.”

  “I know.” I blow out a ragged breath. “I know.”

  “Look”—his tone turns serious—“you need to tell them. Ditch your loyalty for a moment and think about Cassidy’s well-being. What if the guy shows up again and does worse than what he did before?”

  I scrub a hand over my forehead—an attempt to ease the regret, guilt, and headache pounding through. “I don’t know. Taking care of her is my biggest priority at the moment. Just find someone to cover my shift for me.”

  Subconsciously, I’m not sure if I’m telling my brother this because I need someone to confide in or because I know he’ll tell someone he shouldn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cassidy

  For the past few days, I’ve been through hell … and then back after Lincoln showed up.

  I’m not sure what I was thinking when I invited him over. In the back of my mind, I knew the bruise would come to light, knew he’d see it, but his comfort was what I needed as a Band-Aid to cover my pain.

  Lincoln understands keeping secrets. I trust him, and even though it’ll kill him, I know my secret is safe with him.

  Will he constantly pester me to turn Quinton in? Absolutely.

  Will he go behind my back and do it himself? No.

  I’ve put him in a tough situation, made him go against what he thinks is right, and for him doing this for me, I’ll forever be grateful.

  Lincoln is in the shower when the doorbell rings. He told me he left the door unlocked and to run in there if there was danger. The poor guy has been scared to leave my side since he arrived last night.

  Since I’m not expecti
ng visitors and the last thing I want to do is talk to someone, I ignore the doorbell. If it’s important, they’ll call or text. If it’s for Grace, she’s at work, so they’ll have to come back later anyway.

  I prop my feet up on the coffee table, and the doorbell rings again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Then my phone rings.

  The hell?

  Lincoln, who apparently has the ears of a moth, walks out of the bathroom, now freshly showered. His hair is dripping wet, and he’s wearing black sweats and a tee. “Is that the doorbell?”

  It rings again.

  “Yes,” I groan. “That’s the doorbell.”

  “I got it.”

  Commotion erupts as soon as he answers the door, a hurricane storming into the living room, a rush of frantic voices taking in the space.

  “Let me see it!” Rex, a man who rarely yells, does as soon as he comes into my view. His voice cracks when he continues, “I am going to kill whoever it was!”

  “Babe,” Carolina says, her tone sharp as she shoots me a despaired look.

  “No!” he shouts. “I am going to kill whoever put his hands on her!”

  The room falls silent. I stifle back a scream of dread. My leg muscles tighten, begging for me to flee, but I can’t move.

  I cannot speak or move.

  No words are coming to me.

  No excuse to justify why I’m hiding this.

  I shoot a panicked glance to Lincoln, tears automatically approaching as a whimper leaves me.

  That’s all I can manage.

  A damn whimper as I cover my mouth.

  He told them.

  He lied to me.

  Betrayed me.

  Now, my entire family is standing in my living room, staring at me and waiting for answers.

  Shock and pain reside in Lincoln’s eyes. He stands inches away from me, fists clenched, as we wait for whatever scene is about to unfold.

  Rex’s hands are shaking. He went through a similar situation with Carolina’s ex giving her hell, and he knows the damage that can be done when someone decides they’re not finished with you yet. Next to him stands Carolina, a deep concern etched along her forehead.

  Kyle stands next to Rex, his face reddened with fury. My mother scurries over to me, nearly tripping over the rug, and collapses on the couch a few inches to my right. Panic fills her voice as he says my name over and over again, tears in her eyes.

  “You think I can’t hack into your shit and get answers in seconds?” Rex asks. “Who did this to you?” His attention briefly flicks to Kyle. “Wasn’t there a guy in her car when she was arrested? Who was it?”

  Them not even considering it’s Lincoln confirms they heard the news from him.

  Kyle shakes his head. “The guy wasn’t in the police report.” He throws his arm out toward me. “And this one here won’t budge on providing a name.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I cry out. “It’s over with.”

  Lincoln curses underneath his breath at my response, but I don’t glance over at him.

  I can’t.

  Even though I should, so he could see the hurt and betrayal flowing through me.

  I’m thankful that I’m wearing the hoodie. It’s been off and on today, depending on my mood. Whenever I get up to use the bathroom, I see myself in the mirror and put it back on. Then as I get warm, I take it off.

  Rex steps forward. “It does matter! Someone beat you up!”

  “Calm down,” Carolina tells him. “You guys can’t just barge in here and demand answers.”

  “Damn straight we can,” Kyle inputs.

  “I get it, protective brothers and all,” Chloe says, coming into view, and I want to die that nearly everyone I’m close with is here to witness my embarrassment. “It’s hard for women to open up to their brothers. How about this? You guys chill in the living room and let us girls talk, okay?”

  Before anyone answers, Maliki and Sierra walk through the door, their eyes shooting straight to me. Sierra’s cheeks are red, and Maliki’s fists are clenched.

  “Bedroom. Now,” Sierra demands.

  I nod and hop off the couch, but before I can go to my bedroom, I whip around to face Lincoln.

  “You told them,” I cry out in despair.

  “Did you expect him not to?” Rex asks. “I’d fucking hate the dude if he didn’t.”

  Lincoln shakes his head, torture and guilt clouding his features. “I told Archer, and he must’ve told them.” He gulps, taking a step closer to me. “I’m sorry, Cassidy, but we both know this is what needed to happen.”

  “Screw you,” I hiss, tears approaching. “I trusted you!”

  His eyes water. “I know.” He bows his head. “I know.”

  “Archer told Cohen, who told Maliki,” Sierra explains. “Archer was unsure what to do about an employee being in possible danger, so he asked Cohen. He told Cohen not to tell Maliki, but Cohen felt he couldn’t hide something like that from his best friend.”

  “I’m going to kill my brother,” Lincoln grits out, his eyes not leaving me.

  “You should’ve told us,” Maliki says.

  “I just found out last night!” Lincoln screams, throwing up his arms. “I’ve been trying to talk her into going to the police and giving her time to process, not barging in and complicating shit for her. This has already messed with her head enough, and no offense, but she doesn’t need people screaming at her while she’s recovering. I planned to try to talk it out with her again today. She needs time, like some victims do.”

  Everyone is shocked into silence at Lincoln’s response, no one expecting those words to leave him.

  He thought he was going to change my mind.

  Wow. Is that why he stayed here with me—to try to talk me into turning Quinton in?

  Sierra gently grabs my elbow. “Your bedroom. Now.”

  I nod, turning my back on the man whose betrayal hurts deeper than Quinton’s, and everyone with a vagina follows me into my bedroom.

  “Let me see,” Sierra demands, taking the lead, her tone as sharp as Rex’s. “I’m not going to yell, but I need to see.”

  While taking a seat on the bed, my mother snivels, her eyes glued to me like her favorite soap opera.

  With a heavy breath, I pull my sweatshirt over my head.

  “I’m going to kill the bastard myself,” Sierra hisses.

  “Just …” I shake my head. “It’s over.”

  “Is it, though?” Carolina asks. “How do you know he won’t come back and do the same … or worse? From my experience, it’s not over until the guy is set straight or is scared enough to leave you alone.”

  “I think it’s time you talk about what happened,” my mother says. “Or I’m involving your father.”

  “Or we have Rex hack into your shit and find out everything,” Sierra chimes in.

  “Invasion of privacy much?” I huff out.

  “I’ll take you being safe over you being angry with me,” my mother replies.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lincoln

  Thirty minutes have passed since Cassidy went to her bedroom to spill her secrets … or at least since she left the room with people attempting to get her to spill her secrets.

  Thirty minutes of me pacing, of Rex cursing every three seconds, and of Kyle saying he’s going to strangle the guy nonstop.

  Cassidy is a tough nut to crack.

  Doesn’t give in easily.

  And I’ve never seen such determination from someone who’s breaking inside.

  I wouldn’t be surprised if they were in there for hours, begging her to talk to them, to give them anything to get the man who hurt her in trouble.

  She’s a victim.

  But Cassidy won’t admit that part yet.

  We freeze when Sierra comes into view, her attention shooting straight to me. “She wants to talk to you.” Her face is unreadable, and she doesn’t disclose a word more.

  The other women stand be
hind her.

  I nod, shoving my hands into my pockets, and walk around them.

  When I enter the bedroom, Cassidy is on the bed, her shoulders curled over her chest. When she raises her head, her face is red and puffy, tearstained, and I rush over to her.

  “Baby,” I whisper, collapsing to my knees in front of her. I want to console her, hold her, wipe away every single tear, and make sure she never feels pain like this again.

  Not only physical pain torments Cassidy.

  It’s emotional pain.

  Tearing her apart.

  And I hate it.

  She jerks away from me. “How dare you.”

  She’s cold.

  Hostile.

  Taking out the anger on me that she should be taking out on someone else.

  I can take it, though.

  I’m strong.

  I’ll take every emotion she needs to release.

  “I …” I stutter for the right words, but there are none that’ll bring her comfort, none that’ll convince her that I didn’t tell Archer about her out of malice. But in reality, I know my brother. In the back of my mind, I knew he couldn’t keep that information to himself, not when it came to a woman being in trouble. I had him do my dirty work, hoping I wouldn’t have that guilt bearing down on my shoulders. “I didn’t know he’d tell.”

  She sucks in a sob as she glares down at me. “Bullshit. You knew exactly what would happen. You think he’d keep his mouth shut about that? You know how much I trusted you, telling you that, but it turns out, you’re just as bad as them.”

  “You can trust me,” I croak out, my hands and voice pleading.

  “Please leave.”

  I slam my eyes shut. “Cass—”

  She shakes her head, sniffling back tears. “Get out, Lincoln.”

  I left.

  I left because she needed space, and with her family there, I knew she was safe.

  I left because I’m going to get answers.

  For years, I’ve kept my mouth shut for those I love, to protect them.

  For my father.

  For my grandfather’s company.

  I’ve kept so many damn secrets that I could get lost in them.