And came face to face with a woman sitting on the floor, her back against Cassie’s door. She lifted suspicious eyes to meet his. He stood, frozen, as the sounds of Cassie lurching up the stairs, yelling, “You had a head start!” grew louder. She burst through the door from the stairwell, then went utterly silent.
“Mom?”
He’d known before she said it. The woman was an older, haggard twin to her daughter. Her hair was the same auburn-streaked brown, but it hung limply around her shoulders. Cassie’s mother’s version of the crazy-quilt hazel eyes were dull instead of vibrant, and ringed by dark circles. She would be in her mid-forties, yet she looked a good fifteen years older.
He swung his gaze to Cassie and watched her face harden. There had been shock there—he wondered how long it had been since she’d seen her mother—but it drained away and was replaced by something else. Armor.
“What are you doing here?” Cassie’s tone was clipped.
The woman scrambled to her feet. “They let me out early. For Christmas.”
“Bullshit.” It was not lost on him that Cassie had skipped over the pasta swears in favor of the real thing. He took a step back to stand next to her.
“I need somewhere to stay until I can get my own place.” She held out a palm, which contained a single key. “Changed the locks on your own mother, I see.”
“They did not let you out.” Cassie spoke slowly, as if she were trying very hard not to yell. “You were supposed to be in through January. I was there for the intake, remember?” Her eyes narrowed, and he could feel the waves of tension rolling off her. He took a step sideways, putting himself a little closer to her, as if he could absorb some of that tension for her.
“If you’re here, it’s because they kicked you out. Or you skipped out.” Cassie turned to him then and said, “Rehab.”
Her mother’s upper lip curled as she looked him up and down. “This your boyfriend?”
“No,” said Cassie.
She didn’t introduce him. This was his cue. “I should probably go.”
“No!” Cassie put a hand on his forearm. Then she lowered her voice. “Please stay. She’s the one leaving.”
“I just need to crash for a couple nights, Cass. I left early because I got it together.”
“Oh, and did they give you a refund for the seven grand that January is going to cost?”
Suddenly it made sense. The expensive mother. The modest apartment. The slow pace through school. She was paying for her mother’s treatment. And from the looks of things, this wasn’t the first time.
“You told me you’d really try this time,” said Cassie, her voice breaking. Anger had given way, replaced by hurt, and she suddenly sounded like a little girl whose mother had let her down one too many times. She slumped against the wall. As heartbreak flooded into her expression, it was as if the anger that had been there a moment ago transferred to him. A spike of rage, sharp and metallic, pierced his chest. Who the hell did this woman think she was?
“I didn’t need to stay any longer. I’m clean.”
“Oh yeah?” Angry Cassie was back, and in a flash she pushed off the wall and lunged at her mother. She grabbed the older woman’s arm and forced it out of a tattered, dirty denim jacket. Turning the arm over, she exposed it to the dim light emanating from a sconce mounted to the wall.
He had to stifle a gasp. The arm was bruised and overlain with fresh lines of red.
Her mother yanked the arm back. “Excuse me for thinking I could count on my own child,” she sneered, sounding like a schoolyard bully taunting a victim.
Cassie was still standing close to her mother so Jack reached for her, tugging her back to stand by him where she had been a moment ago. He didn’t drop her hand.
“I thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend.” There was that lip curl again. He wanted to wipe it off her face.
“He’s not. I don’t need to explain anything to you.”
The older woman shrugged. “You could never get a guy like him anyway. I always told you to play in your own league.” She flashed a leering smile at Jack. “But this one, she was always too good for everyone else. Had to go to university. Always too busy reading, even as a kid. Too good for her own mother. Too busy.”
“That’s not true.” Cassie wasn’t angry anymore, not exactly. But her voice shook. He squeezed her hand. “All I wanted was your attention. You were too busy for me. Too busy getting drunk with your friends. Or high. Or whatever. I’m sorry, but you can’t stay. I’m not doing it anymore.”