“I regret not being there more for her. I can’t help but think if I’d checked on her more, or done something better, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt,” she said, her voice heavy with sadness.
“Cass, there’s nothing you could’ve done,” I said softly. “You can’t save an addict who doesn’t want to be saved. They’ll do whatever they want, no matter how much you try to help them. You could’ve checked on her every hour of every day, and the outcome would’ve been the same. You can’t get caught up on the what-ifs.”
“I guess not. It’s something I’ll have to work on,” she said quietly, her gaze drifting off into the distance.
“You know dealing with an addict is just as hard as being one. A lot of people go to therapy to work through what they hadto deal with while they were trying to help a struggling addict. Living with that kind of constant chaos in your life takes a toll on a person. I know the number of a great therapist if you ever want it. No pressure though.”
She nodded slowly, eyes still distant. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer someday. I’m tired of carrying all this around, you know? It feels like it’s been sitting on my chest for years.” She looked at me with a weak smile. “Thanks for not pushing. Either way, the point of my story is––my mom’s finally in rehab and I’m going to be alone for Thanksgiving this year.”
“What if you came to Thanksgiving at the ranch this year?”
“You don’t think people will find that weird?” She paused from slicing the rest of the pumpkin roll, glancing up at me.
“Of course not. You’re practically family, Cass. No one’s going to think it’s weird.”
I meant what I said. Cassie had always been like family to all of us. Adding one more seat at the McKinley Thanksgiving table wouldn’t raise a single eyebrow.
She stood there a moment longer, thinking it over. “Count me in.”
Her acceptance felt like progress—maybe the ice between us was finally thawing. Still, I couldn’t be sure without asking.
“So, Cassie… about what I told you the other night,” I started carefully. “I, uh—”
“Jace, you don’t have to explain anything to me,” she said, stopping me mid-sentence as she turned toward me, her eyes meeting mine.
“I meant what I said. You deserve to know everything. The mistakes I’ve made—they’re not exactly small ones.”
Cassie shook her head gently, setting down the knife. “Jace, everyone’s got something they’re not proud of. You had your time, you learned from it––that’s what matters.
“Your past with alcohol doesn’t change how I see you. You’re still the same Jace McKinley I’ve always known—the rowdy kid that knows how to have a good time and get under my skin like nobody else,” she said, laughing and shaking her head. “The same one that likes to park in front of my coffee shopandmy house at night to make sure I’m okay,” she teased.
The cat’s outta the bag, I guess.
A small smile tugged at my lips, her words releasing the anxiety that had been brewing inside of me all day.
“I’ve watched my mom go through a lot with her addiction, but I’ve never had the privilege of watching her beat it. But that’s what you did, Jace. You were strong enough to beat it. That’s something to be proud of, and I’ll never tear someone down who’s strong enough to overcome something as hard as that is to do,” she continued. “You said I was worth fighting for, Jace—so are you. Please, don’t ever forget that.”
I wanted to say something, but for once silence felt like the only right answer.
Cassie smiled, picking up a slice of pumpkin roll, handing it to me. “Now, eat before I change my mind about sharing.”
I laughed under my breath, taking it from her. The moment I’d dreaded for so long was finally over, in the best way possible.
“So you saw my truck parked on your street, huh?” I asked, taking another bite of pumpkin roll.
“I woke up the next morning, and saw your truck parked down the street. You were still sleeping, hat tipped over your face like some kind of cowboy cliché. I figured you probably hadn’t slept much the night before, so I didn’t bother you. You could’ve just knocked, you know,” she said as the corner of her mouth twitched upward.
She laughed. “I didn’t have a spare bed, but even the couch would’ve been better than sleeping in your truck. Besides, it’snot like you haven’t crashed there before.” Her mischievous eyes flicked up to mine.
At least she was willing to joke about it. That had to count for something.
As Cassie continued slicing her masterpiece, a knock on the front door of the coffee shop made me turn, wondering why someone would be here after hours.
“I’ll go see who that is. You stay here and keep slicing up that pumpkin roll for me. I’ll bet money that thing doesn’t even make it to my house before I finish it off,” I joked, walking away.
Unlocking the door, I immediately recognized the person standing in front of me. It was that guy from the bar on Halloween Cassie had been sitting with—more like sitting on—when I marched in and caused a scene. What was his name again? Richard? Ryan? I couldn’t remember.
Based on the look on his face, he was surprised to see me opening the door and not Cassie.
