I made my way back to the entrance, followed by the sound of heels clicking on the wooden dance floor, their pace quickening with each step. I entered the gravel lot, heading for my truck.
“What the hell, Jace?” Cassie called out behind me. “I’m not your damn girlfriend, but now Ryan and every other guy in that bar thinks I am. So thanks a lot, jackass,” she said, stomping behind me.
I turned around, standing in front of my truck.
“Let me make one thing clear,” I said, speaking slowly and deliberately so she wouldn’t miss a single word. “I will never beable to act like that day in your kitchen never happened. Every single day I think about the things I would’ve done to your body if I hadn’t been such a dumbass and stopped us in the heat of the moment. When I work out on the ranch, I think about you. When I drive down the road, I think about you.” I walked toward her, moving my body close enough to hers that I could smell the lemon on her breath.
“When I fall asleep at night, I think about you, Cassie Blake. And one day, when you finally forgive me, I will show you all the things that play out in my head day after day, every agonizing second. I know a lot of people don’t tell you this, but you’re worth it. You’re worth fighting for,” I said, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “Do you understand?”
She took a long gulp before managing to push out a weakyes.
“Watching another man inch his hand down to your ass makes my blood boil like I will never be able to explain, and if I ever have to watch it again, Cassie, I’ll burn this entire world down. Do you understand me?”
She stared at me wide-eyed nodding slowly.
“I have no fucking clue why, but my need for you never goes away. It certainly didn’t get any better after that morning in your kitchen and it’s not getting any better right now while you’re standing here in that damn costume. I want to do unbelievably dirty things to you, sugar, so I’m going to leave now before I go in there and punch that douche bag right in the face for having his hands on you,” I said, opening my truck door.
Cassie stepped closer to me—close enough for her to feel what her costume was doing to my body.
It might be Halloween, but the devil isn’t out tonight––he’s in my pants.
Her lips parted slightly. They were soft and plump, just sitting there begging to be kissed.
“How far are you willing to go to get a second chance with me, Jace McKinley?” she said, sizing me up, as if how much I wanted her wasn’t obvious enough.
A wicked smile spread across my face. “Baby, you don’t know the lengths I’ve already gone to be a better man for you,” I replied honestly, because Cassie didn’t know about my past and the hell I had to pull myself out of. She didn’t know about the darkest days of my life and how small memories of her had gotten me through all of it. But if she was willing to give me a second chance, I was finally willing to let her in.
“Then prove it to me. Tell me everything you’re holding back—the good, the bad and the ugly. If you want a second chance, I want the truth. Right here, right now,” she demanded, looking ridiculously hot pissed off in her damn bunny costume.
“Get in the truck,” I ordered, and by some miracle, Cassie actually obeyed me.
“Where are we going?” she asked as I pulled out of the gravel lot.
“To Crowley’s Ridge,” I said nervously. What I was about to tell Cassie would either prove I was willing to go all in or send her running for the hills. But Crowley’s Ridge was part of my truth, so it only made sense that I’d tell her everything there.
After a short drive, I pulled into my usual spot—under the tree just on top of the ridge line. Cassie was quiet the entire drive there. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.
Here goes nothing, or possibly everything.
As I turned to face Cassie in the seat next to me, my stomach flipped like it was on a trampoline, my heart pounding hard enough it felt like it might bust right out of my chest.
“Do you remember when I told you about going to therapy?” I asked her quietly.
“At Colt and Ellie’s wedding? Yes, I remember. Why?” she asked, shifting her body toward mine.
“I’ve been going to therapy for a couple of years. I started going when I got back from Florida,” I said, taking a deep breath as the oxygen in the air felt thinner by the second.
“I remember that. You left while I was still in the hospital healing from the fire,” she said, sorting the timeline out in her head.
“I went to Florida because I was at a really low part of my life and I needed help. Instead of using healthy ways to cope with my bullshit mental health, I chose to put a Band-Aid over all of it. My substance of choice was alcohol. I’m an alcoholic, Cass,” I admitted, a shame washing over my body that I could never explain to anyone who had never been in the same position.
She looked at me, stunned. Her mouth dropped open slightly, but no words came out, so I kept going.
“I used to drink––a lot. Sometimes two or three bottles of whiskey a night. I’d get blackout drunk. Try to fight people at the bars or pass out at home and wake up with cuts or bruises I had no clue how I ended up with. But I’ve been sober for two years now,” I said, filling the silence that was weighing on my body like a truckload of bricks.
“I go to therapy, keep up with people I met while I was in rehab, all the things you’re supposed to do after you leave. I come out here to Crowley’s Ridge when I feel like the world is getting too fast for me, and I need a break. Because I never want my mental health to get so bad again that I pick up a bottle to cope. Or call some random girl to come over and try to make me feel something,” I said.
Cassie probably wasn’t too interested in my past sex life, but it was part of my story, and she deserved the whole truth. “Now you know why this spot means so much to me. It helps me stay focused, stay sober.”
