"Penelope is smart," I admit. "But she's also desperate to be accepted by the folks in Pine Hollow. That desperation makes people sloppy. Makes them overlook details. We just need to find the detail they overlooked."
Cassian climbs into his truck but doesn't start the engine yet. "What about Sharon? When she figures out what's really happening, she's going to panic."
“We won’t let her,” I say. “We’ll keep her safe. Talking about safe, we can’t drive anywhere, we have to get a taxi.”
“I know.”
Cassian grabs his phone and calls a taxi. Pine Hollow really went from one driver to five, and somehow that feels like the least insane part of today.
What matters is this. We are finally on the same side. Ben and Penelope are going down, and Grandpa and Sharon are off-limits.
The meeting went better than I thought it would. Family drives you crazy, but they still show up.
Ben doesn’t understand the meaning of family, which is why he’s a problem. One that my brothers and I will deal with together.
6
CASSIAN
I'm bored out of my fucking mind.
I pick up my phone at eight in the evening while Steve is reading upstairs. Boredom. Restlessness.
The phone rings three times before she answers.
"Hi?” Her voice is cautious, like she's trying to figure out who would call her this late.
"Hey, it's Cassian." I lean back in my chair, stretching my legs out. The station is quiet enough that I can hear my own breathing. "I'm going crazy here. You doing anything?"
"It's late," she says.
"I know." I tap my fingers against the armrest. The impulse to see her is strong enough that I'm not bothering to pretend it isn't. “And you probably need a break from wedding planning hell. Come hang out."
There's a pause. I can hear her thinking through it, weighing the reasons why this is a bad idea against whatever part of her is tired enough and stressed enough to say yes anyway.
"That's not a good idea," she says.
"Probably not," I agree. "But I'm thinking about it anyway. You got anything better to do?"
"We got caught by Jessica," she says.
“I wasn’t thinking about that.”
I was, but not right now. I want to get to know her better first.
“I was thinking more in the line of playing chess. You probably know how to play. It's just two people sitting across from each other, moving pieces around a board. Nothing complicated about it."
I know I'm pushing. I haven't been able to stop thinking about her for a week, and if I don't do something with this energy, it's going to eat me alive.
"My brothers are out, so when I finish my shift in a few minutes, then I’ll be home alone,” I add. That's the thing that makes the difference. The reassurance that this is safe in a way that other things might not be.
She says yes.
I pick her up twenty minutes later from the small hotel where she's been living out of a suitcase. She's waiting outside, and when she slides into my truck, I have to grip the steering wheel a little harder than necessary.
She's wearing jeans and a cream-colored sweater that hangs off one shoulder. Her hair is down, falling in waves past her shoulders. She's not wearing much makeup, just something dark around her eyes that makes them deeper somehow. She looks soft and stressed and beautiful in a way that makes my chest tight.
"Hi," I say, pulling out of the parking lot.
