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It’s no wonder I get virtually no sleep. Between finding out that I’ve slept with Nash, feeling worse and worse about making a complete and utter fool of myself with him last night and the predicament I now find myself in, I blow off my Monday classes and head to Cash’s instead. I’m not sure why I feel the need to go to him; maybe it’s a sense that I’ve somehow betrayed him. I don’t know. But I find myself drawn to him for some reason. And I don’t question it. I just go.
I know he’s at least awake, because I saw my car parked at the curb when I looked out the window this morning. My keys were in an envelope in the mailbox.
The first time I came to Dual during the day, Cash was expecting me, so the front door was unlocked. I wondered if that was the case all the time.
Evidently not, I think as I pull on both doors to find them both secured. And I didn’t get a key with my employment because Cash always opens and closes. I mean, why wouldn’t he? He lives behind the bar for Pete’s sake.
I walk around the side of the building. I’m pretty sure there is at least a back door, some way to take out garbage and for Cash to get in and out from wherever he parks that motorcycle of his.
One side of the building has no door, so I continue on around. As I suspected, there is a door at the back. It empties out into the alley where there is a huge trash dumpster against the opposite wall. Unfortunately, the back door is locked, too.
I keep walking, around to the other side of the building, hoping for another door. And I hit pay dirt. There’s a side door. A big one.
It looks like Cash has converted a back corner of the club into an apartment and garage. I can tell by the nature of the wide, roll-up bay-type door. That and the fact that it’s open and his bike is parked inside. That’s kind of a dead giveaway.
I’m a little confused, however, when I see Nash’s car parked inside as well. Or at least it’s a vehicle that looks like Nash’s car.
My stomach twists into a nervous knot. I know they’re not exactly close, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t discuss me. I mean, they very much have me in common! Even more so after recent events.
I feel a little nauseous. I’m debating scampering back to my car when the interior door opens and Cash walks out. He doesn’t see me as he turns immediately to lock the door behind him. He’s also on the phone, which he tucks against his shoulder as he sets the deadbolt.
I can’t help but overhear his end of the conversation.
“Marissa, I told you I had meetings all weekend. There was just no way for me to do that. I didn’t have—”
He stops dead when he turns and sees me standing at the edge of the door. I’m sure my mouth is hanging open and I probably look every bit as confused as I feel.
One question is running on a loop through my mind. Why is Cash talking to Marissa that way? Why is Cash talking to Marissa that way?
We stare at each other for the longest minute of my entire life. It is so quiet in the garage, I can actually hear Marissa repeating Nash’s name over and over and over again.
Finally, without taking his eyes off mine, he addresses her. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later.” And he hangs up.
He studies me for so long I begin to think he’s not going to say anything to me at all. But then he does.
“Why don’t you come in? We need to talk.”
My heart is thudding against my ribs. Hard! I was expecting any number of logical explanations. Maybe he was playing a prank. Maybe he was covering something up for Nash. Maybe I just misunderstood something. But the way Cash is watching me makes me think something is very, very wrong. And that I’m not going to like it.
I think of leaving. Of just walking right back to my car. These boys have been trouble for me from day one. If I was smart, I’d turn around and never look back.
But I know why I can’t. Even as the thought runs through my head, the thought of never seeing Cash again cuts through my chest like a knife blade. I feel the pain of it, the devastation of it. The life-changing wound of it. I feel everything but the blood, the blood that should be soaking my clothes.
I nod once and walk slowly, numbly across the polished floor to where he’s holding the now-open door for me.
I feel like I’m going to an execution.
Of my heart and my trust maybe.
And that’s pretty much right.
CHAPTER THIRTY- Cash
My pulse is racing. Just the thought of coming clean, of telling any one person all my secrets scares the shit out of me. I’m not sure why I’m going to tell Olivia. I just know that I am. That I have to. I have to trust her if I ever expect her to trust me. The thing is, I still haven’t figured out why that matters so much to me. Why I even care.