At the Stars(37)

Until I see a shiny, silver Carrera pull into the parking lot. Then I see Cassie get out. Out of Dante Ramos’s fucking car.

I’m invisible to them in the shadows against Cassie’s door. While she comes around the car to hug Dante—to kiss him on the cheek—the tips of my torn-up fingers push into my thighs through my pockets hard enough to make bruises.

“What the fuck is she doing with him?” I whisper the question to myself, harsh and desperate. Honestly, who the fuck else do I have to blame?

Dante doesn’t owe me. We’re not friends like that. It’s not like he had any “Bro Code” obligation to keep his hands off. And Cassie? What damn reason have I given her not to look elsewhere?

Dante leans close to say something I can’t hear while he takes her hands in both of his. My stomach burns. I hate them both. I hate myself. I want to clock the cocky SOB in his prize-winning jaw, and then I want to drag Cassie inside to stake a claim on her I can’t begin to deserve.

She’s mine.

No she isn’t.

Yes, she is.

Shit. Shut up.

I should get in my truck. Pull out and go home before they cross the parking lot. Avoid the showdown. I can’t, though. I can’t walk away and leave her alone with him. I’m not even sure I understand. It’s like there’s a ball of fire and lead in the center of me. Some kind of giant, spinning magnet.

I have to stand here, at her door. I have to talk to her. That’s all I know.

Cassie sees me first. She stops with a scrape of her sneaker on the pavement, her mouth open. “Jake? What’s— Is everything okay?”

“Sure. We never finished talking the other day. Thought I’d stop on my way home.” No. Nothing. Not a damn thing is okay right now. That feeling threatens to choke me. She cannot be getting to me. She can’t.

Dante chuckles. “You could pick up a phone, bro.”

I cut my gaze to him. Darkness has fallen rapidly, but lights ring the Inn’s perimeter. I know he sees the threat on my face by the way he straightens up and tightens his fists. Good. I may not fight in a ring any longer, but I had to fight to stay alive before I found a job in Evergreen Grove. He doesn’t worry me.

“Uh, hey.” Cassie takes a step forward. “Dante.” She taps him on the arm. “Why don’t you and I talk later?”

He looks me up and down. “You sure?”

Then she does something interesting. Since the night I picked her up on that road she’s given me trust, accepted that I’d protect her. I took it as a burden, a noose around my neck. Something I didn’t deserve even if I had wanted it. I didn’t realize how much it meant until now.

Now, she’s looking at me like a stranger.

“We didn’t get to finish talking on Sunday. I had some things to say.” Carefully, I pull my hands from my pockets and lean back against the door. Casual, nice guy. See?

She looks back at Dante. “It’s fine. I’ll see you later.”

He nods. “All right then.” Still, he’s walking away slow. The look over his shoulder says he doesn’t trust me for sure.

Dante. Doesn’t trust me. That’s funny.

Maybe Cassie does, though. She holds up a cup I hadn’t noticed. “Thanks for the milkshake.”

With one last look, he gets in his Carrera, waves, and takes off. Neither of us talk until we see taillights fade away.

“Good?” I jam my hands into my pockets again. I nod my head like I’m asking about the milkshake when really I want to ask more. About her. About Dante. I don’t know when I last gave a shit. Suddenly, I’m seventeen again.

Maybe when she blows town, I’ll be back on my feet. Maybe then, she’ll be out of my head.

“Very.” She nods slowly, staring me down with curiosity that makes me want to jump back in my truck and gun the engine. Or kiss her until I know for sure whether her answer is referring to her date with Dante or the fucking milkshake.

Jesus. Just because she wants me doesn’t mean I have to want her back. Mariana wanted me, and I stood up to her. I said no. I left town, rather than cave to her fucking blackmail.

Anger rises inside of me. Concern spreads across Cassie’s face, so I try to shove it down. “So listen...” Shit. Now that I’m here in front of her, I can’t find the right words for what I wanted to say.

“Look, we weren’t on a date. You can simmer down.” She shoves past me to unlock her door.

“I don’t—” I don’t let myself finish the lie. I do care. I hate that I care. Fuck it all, anyway. “So what were you doing with him? I told you. He’s bad news.”

She pushes into the room. A purse and hoodie drop on the table inside the door as she goes. Her shoes get kicked across the room, ending up by the bed. She drops onto it, pulling up a knit blanket that she’s used to replace those ugly standard hotel bedspreads.