“Are you okay?” Cass speaks, breaking the silence. Barely five minutes have passed since I slammed the car door shut and retreated into my shell after shattering two hearts with my choice. The tender concern in his voice is just what I don’t need. Fat tears burst onto my cheek, and I fail to wipe them away quickly enough to avoid detection. The sleek Aston DB9 swerves into the coach parking along the Embankment, and I jolt with the force of the break. “Jesus, princess, what happened? Did he hurt you? The motherfu—”
I suck back a sob-filled interruption. “Not like that, Cass, no.” Sniffing back the tears, I try to downplay my desolation, but it’s futile. My heart feels so damn heavy I can barely breathe; it’s crushing my lungs. In spite of myself, the troubled expression plastered on Cass’s face has me trying to ease his concern. “I…I’m fine.”
“Yes, I can see that, what with all the tears.” The sarcasm falls flat since his tone is thick with worry.
“I’ll survive,” I reply. His clenched jaw jumps at the impassive delivery of my apt statement.
“I can see that, too.” His hand hovers with uncertainty, his fingers poised to stroke my face. Our eyes meet, and whatever passes between us is enough to allay his reticence at my possible reaction.
I close my eyes at the contact, so familiar and strange at the same time.
My tummy tightens, and I feel a warm glow of forgotten embers rekindling inside of me, something unique to him and something I haven’t felt in a very long time. I lean into his touch, because, right now, I feel so broken I need this comfort, even if it’s wrong, even if I know it won’t last. Logan doesn’t want me, not now. He can’t trust me, and I know he’ll never forgive me, but I need this, so bad.
“Talk to me, Tia, what happened?”
“I can’t do that, and I certainly can’t do it with you.” I pull sharply from his hold like his touch suddenly scolds my skin.
“Who else then, Tia? Who do you need to help you? Who can I take you to?” His retort doesn’t sound remotely harsh. If anything, it’s more pleading, but my blood is boiling with a mix of unbearable hurt and resignation to the truth.
“No one, Cass! I have no one. Is that what you want to hear? Does that make you happy?” My voice is high-pitched and a little unstable. I take a calming breath because I am so close to a meltdown I can feel it all the way from my trembling fingertips to my pounding heart.
“You have me,” he states this with such sincerity I’m almost speechless. Almost.
“Phew, well, isn’t that just a fucking relief.” I choke out a bitter laugh, turning fully in my seat to face him. The shocked look of hurt on his face pulls me up short, and I let out a heavy breath. My voice softens from hysterical harpy to something more akin to how I’m truly feeling, beaten down and devastated. “Just drive, Cass.”
Atticus shifts back in his seat and fixes his stony glare on the road ahead. He slams his foot to the floor, the engine roars like it’s in pain, and he pulls from a stand-still with enough G-force to pin me immobile deep into the soft leather bucket seat. He eases off the acceleration just enough to screech a U-turn in the road, giving me whiplash and making me scream out like a little girl. He is sporting a killer grin, which should make me mad, but just like always, he has me at the very least, distracted.
We cross the river and head out of the city. It takes a few roundabouts for me to realise we aren’t just heading back to the apartment via a different route, and he still hasn’t told me where we’re going. We hit the motorway, and my stomach churns enough for me to have to ask the question I hope I don’t already know the answer to.
“Where are we going Cass?”
“Home.” Shit.
The hairs on the back of my neck tingle as we reach the edge of the village. We pass the bus stop I used to stand at everyday to get the school bus, and for some reason I take a double look. Like I expect to see my former self just standing there, waiting.
I let out a hollow laugh at the irony.
I spent so much of my life just waiting, waiting for him.
The village shop is closed, and the lights of the one and only pub burn with a dirty orange tint from the lead latticed windows. The sound of hearty laughter breaks the quiet of a country night like this, tables full of both young and old spill out into the car park.
My window is fully down, and the balmy wind filters through my fingers as we crawl past, and once again I strain to see if I can spot a familiar face.
I don’t.
It may have been where I grew up, but I rarely mingled. I was an outcast, and the only place that felt like home was Tartarus Hall. And then only when I was with Cass.
These feelings I had acknowledged but managed to keep at arms length, if not completely at bay, are rolling in like an unstoppable stormy wave. As much as I grew to love this place at one time, this is the last place on earth I need to be right now.
Cass swings the car to a skid turn on the gravel drive, only to slow to a crawl as we pass my old home. The Gate House is dark. Even in the fading light of the evening, I can see the thick dust on the windows. I know no one moved in after my mother died. It’s probably been empty for the whole five years.
“I thought you would’ve gone to her funeral.” I can feel his eyes on me; however, I continue to stare out the front window. The trees that line the drive are heavy with summer foliage, the canopy so dense I can’t see a single star in the sky. The car has crawled to a halt, and I turn because he’s clearly expecting an answer from the weight of the silence.
“I was tempted to go and say goodbye, but I was on kitchen duty, and you get access to the fridge on those days, so you know…”
“That’s harsh, Tia,” he reprimands, and I narrow my eyes in response to his judgment.
“Really, because I thought testifying against your only daughter was fucking harsh.” He stiffens at my reply and gives a curt nod, which I take as either shutting the conversation down or accepting my reason. Either way, I don’t really care.
It’s done, and I wouldn’t change it.
Another item for the list of evidence that the girl he loved no longer exists. Hopefully, it will start to sink in.
“Have you been back at all?” He presses his foot down, and we speed up the drive.
“I came back when I got out. I haven’t been back since then, no point.”
“I didn’t know. Was there someone to let you into the place, or did you just go to the gatehouse?” He turns briefly to face me. I keep my eyes ahead for fear he will see the truth. He was always so good at that, and I know I’ve held my own so far. I can’t risk that changing now.
“I collected my stuff from the Lodge and had a bit of a look around the Hall.” I nod toward the looming gothic structure blocking the horizon.
“This place is mostly always locked up. You were lucky to come when there was someone here.” he adds and raises a quizzical brow. I bite my lip and just give a flat smile in response. Not sure what telling him that I broke in would accomplish, except maybe adding one more thing to that list.
“I come back all the time.” He puts a little more force on the pedal and the car leaps forward, eating up the distance. The house rises like a monolith or, given what died here, a mausoleum.
“Really?”
“Yes, it was the only time I was ever happy.” He glances my way, and even in the darkness, I can see the depth of the truth he holds in his eyes.
“Yeah, me, too,” I reply, but the rough sound of braking car tires on gravel swallows up the softly spoken words and my own truth.
“Come on, we’ll need to open up the place a bit. I was planning on doing this next weekend so not everything is set up.” We both stare up at the building that holds so many memories and so many secrets.
“Set up?”
“Clean up a bit, let some fresh air in, that sort of thing, and the supplies will be mostly frozen until I can go the shop in the morning.” He quirks his lips apologetically.
“And clothes?” I ask. He drops his head and holds my gaze.
“Oh, I’m not sure we’re going to be needing those.” The deep timbre of his voice sends a shivers up my spine, and the serious intent in his tone makes me shift in my seat. He notices, but opens the car door and is out before I can feign nonchalance and scoff at his misplaced arrogance. Despite what signals my traitorous body is firing off, he needs to remember I’m heartbroken, not stupid.
He rounds the back of the car, and I get out my side. Lifting what looks like my overnight bag from the trunk of the car, he walks my way, stepping right up close and very personal. I have to tilt my head to maintain the eye contact, and it takes everything to stand my ground and not step back when he not only invades my space but dominates it. “Clothing is definitely optional inside the Hall but you will need what I’ve packed, since I thought we’d get some walking done while we’re here, and I don’t really want anyone else seeing what’s mine.” His body seems to cloak mine. I place my hand on his chest to steady myself.
“I’m not yours, Cass.” I can hear the quaver in my voice, and judging by the instant smile striking his face like a slap, he can too.
“I think you’ll find you will always be mine, princess.” He slings the two bags over one shoulder takes my hand in a firm, no-argument grip. I run to catch up with his long strides, jumping two at a time up the main stone steps to the front doors.
Fishing a set of keys from his jacket, he starts to sort through the weighty bundle. Picking out the longest black-pitted iron key, he unlocks the door, and I am hit with a tsunami-sized wave of nostalgia and so much more.
We shouldn’t be here.
He steps across the threshold, but I find myself rooted to the spot. It suddenly feels like crossing that line is more than just entering the building. “I’ve got you, princess. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” I mutter as my eyes take in my former playground.
“Tia, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He cups my face in both hands, and the thump of the bags on the floor brings my focus to the two crystal blues staring right through me. I have to physically shake the sensations assaulting me.
“Felt one, more like, and not a ghost, our ghosts.” I pull his hands away from my face. “I don’t know what you’re expecting, Cass, but I’m not the same girl I was back then. She died, and she’s never coming back.” I squeeze his hands to try and soften my stark revelation, and I am surprised when, unfazed, he squeezes me right back, adding his own blend of comfort with the hold.
“We’ll see about that. Come on, let’s light up the fires.” He tugs me forward, and I let out a relief-filled sniff and weak laugh.
“There’s really no one here?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at the portraits, hanging from the main gallery and lining the corridors, vacant eyes everywhere. I smile; they stopped being scary the moment I met Cass’s mother. An ancient oil painting ceased to hold any horror when faced with pure evil.
“No, just you and me.” He flashes a nefarious grin and winks before pulling me along beside him, explaining as we delve deeper into the house. “I keep Tartarus dormant and when I come back I just open up the rooms I need. Mother never visits.” He keeps hold of my hand as he leads me down the long corridor toward the heart of the house. “A team of cleaners come in monthly for maintenance so there shouldn’t be too many cobwebs and obviously Angus the Groundkeeper is still full time.”
He pushes the heavy oak door wide and pushes the whole bank of switches up. The lights flicker and dim before settling in to give a soft glow to the cavernous kitchen. The flagstone floor and thick walls keep the room chilled all year round, and the Aga keeps it from freezing in the winter, but it’s clearly not been turned on in months. I shiver and pull my hand from Cass’s to rub the goosebumps from my skin.
“There should be hot water if you want to take a shower. I’ll get the fire started in here and the Aga lit, so I can fix us something to eat.” He walks directly to the open fireplace and places several of the dried logs stacked at the side in the centre of the grill. He fishes a lighter from his pocket and clicks the flame alive with one flick of his thumb. The fibres of the wood start to crackle but I know from experience he’s going to be there for a while without some decent kindling.
“Luckily I’m not very hungry, then, because that Aga will take hours to get up to temperature,” I scoff.
“Hmm, good point, and I’m fucking starving.” He continues to hold the flame steady, and much to my irritation, the log starts to take. It glows, and flames lick the side, grabbing hold and lighting the grin on his smug face. He turns to me, and I get a flash of the boy, the arrogant, confident, and utterly insufferable boy I adored. I suck in a sharp breath, thankful the log spits and crackles loud and timely enough to mask my…my what, I’m not sure, but whatever it is, I know he doesn’t need to see or hear it. He brushes his hands together, pleased with one item on his to-do list done. “I’ll hunt and gather something to eat that doesn’t need cooking for me now, and something I can cook for both of us for later. Why don’t you go and put the bags in my room and let me know if you think the room needs heat and I’ll bring up some logs. I didn’t intend heating the whole house, just light some fires where we’re likely to be.”
“I’ll probably need one in the guest room,” I add as he starts to open cupboards he’s clearly never opened in search of food. My mother kept all the dry goods in the pantry and the freezers are out in the back storeroom, although it does make me smile watching him go through all the cutlery drawers and saucepan cupboards.
“Guest room?” He uncurls his long lean body from stooping low and looks genuinely confused. It’s an unaccustomed look for him and disarmingly cute.
“I’m not sleeping with you, Cass. This house has what, fifty bedrooms? And you honestly thought I was going to share.” I sniff, shaking my head with light humour at his presumption.
“I wasn’t intending on sleeping,” he drawls, and despite the flutter of excitement and kick in my heartbeat, I remain incredulous, on the outside at least.
“Jeeze, you’re unbelievable,” I huff. My hands fly to my hips in disbelief, and he flashes a new look I haven’t experienced before, sheepish. He looks so young, all I see before me is the man the boy I loved turned into.
I’m in so much trouble.
“I’m teasing, Tia. Really, I have no expectations. I have hopes, but I just want some time to talk and we used to do lots of talking at night, if you remember?”
“I remember,” I whisper, and his smile widens. I can feel the threads of our long lost connection like a complex web weaving me closer to him, pulling me toward my fate, our fate. I turn before I do something I regret. Cursing myself, I walk back toward the main staircase. My head is spinning with a litany of words that, if I could be honest with myself for a moment, would not be as shocking as they feel.
Who am I fooling exactly?
Nothing like delaying the inevitable, Tia?
This is Cass; it’s always been him.
Fuck!
I gave up on the hot water ever reaching a decent temperature to ease my aching limbs and made do with a flash cold shower, just to get the scent of Logan from my skin. It didn’t feel right, bringing him here, and right now, I just can’t think about that part of my mess. One fuck up at a time, Tia, one at a time, and speaking of…
“Hey!” Cass peeks around the bedroom door, concern and trepidation evident on his handsome face. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting on his old bed, but it’s pitch dark outside, and where I wasn’t hungry before, now I’m famished. He kicks the door wide, and holding a tray, backs into the room. Sweet smelling tomatoes fill the room and my tummy loudly groans its approval and neglect.
“Hopefully, that noise will accept the fact all I have is tomato soup to offer.” He smiles and takes a seat beside me, placing the tray on the bed between us.
“What, no banana and sugar sandwiches?” I quip.
“Oh, I’m saving those for later. I have a feeling I’m going to need my A-game.” He winks playfully, and I have this sinking feeling in the pit of my belly. I have been so sure of myself, my plan…everything, and now I’m drifting, and I hate that he just might be my anchor.
“I don’t want to play this game, Cass.”
“I am very aware of that, Tia.” His voice drops to a deadly serious tone, and I swear the temperature in this chilly room has just dropped to sub zero. “You want the fire on?”
“No, I mean, it’s fine; I’m not that cold.” I shake my head, my hair is still damp, and limp tendrils whip against my cheeks with the enthusiasm of the move. His blond brow knits thicker with an intense frown, and I visibly shiver, yet I know inside, I’m just beginning to burn.
“Here, eat this, it will warm you up until I can.” He holds the spoon to his lips, gently blowing the steam away before offering it to me. I open my mouth and watch as his throat bobs slowly with the effort to swallow. His eyes darken to impossibly deep, icy pools. My body temperature is rocketing with every spoonful of soup he feeds me. Why the hell am I letting him?
Because you’re broken and raw, and it feels nice to have someone take care of you, idiot, and it’s not someone, it’s Cass.
“Are you going to tell me what happened today?” He scrapes the last spoonful for me and places the bowl down.
“I’m really not.” I drop my gaze and hear him sigh heavily. I get a twist in my chest at the snide tone of my retort. He’s being so nice, and I know that look of concern is heartfelt. I can see he cares. I just have to decide whether it’s really too late, when he’s trying so hard, and I can already feel my shaky walls begin to crumble. Tiny pockets of dust flow to the ground like an arid waterfall, taking larger pieces of my defences with it.
I match his sigh of frustration with my own, only mine is filled with sadness. “All I can say is when I’ve done my time with you, I will be looking for a new home.” I shuffle back and pull my legs up, my knees tucked beneath my chin, and my arms wrapped tightly around my shins.
“Logan kicked you out? Why?” His wide eyes match the shocked inflection of his voice.
“It’s complicated.”
“Well, if he’s smart, he’ll have followed you here and will be knocking down my door any moment.” I know he’s really trying here, because the words of comfort are at odds with the tension in his voice.
“Unlikely.” My lips barely curve with the effort to smile. Atticus shakes his head, dismissing my assessment with a comforting hand on my knee.
“I would be stunned if he didn’t, Tia. I saw the way he looked at you. I should know, I’ve seen that look in the mirror every damn day.” I have to drop my gaze when I see the honesty in his eyes. I can feel the prickle of tears, and screwing my eyes shut, I have to physically shake them away. I let out a slow breath once the threat has passed and look up.
“He’s agoraphobic Cass, he hasn’t stepped out side his house for ten years. The last time was for his parents funeral.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think it’s a why kind of deal. He won’t talk about it. He just said the next morning he couldn’t get anywhere near the door. He tried and it just got worse until he stopped trying. But even if he wasn’t, he won’t be coming after me.” I’m not given to dramatics, never was, and this time, Cass gives an acknowledging nod, holding my gaze to make sure. I don’t waiver. I know Logan. He won’t forgive me, and I don’t blame him. The silence doesn’t hang for long when Cass breaks it.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” I scoff, and he has the decency to flash an apologetic smile.
“True, but I am sorry you’re hurting.”
“I’ve had worse,” I fire back, and he winces. His next apology is much more sincere.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.” I believe him. I have for a little while, even if it changes very little, it’s still good to know. He pulls one of my hands free and entwines our fingers, and I let him.
“How did you meet him, if he’s agoraphobic I mean?”
“I broke into his house and slept in his basement until he found me.”
“What?” The shock on his face is almost comical.
“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” I can’t hide the irritation in my voice. It’s not like I had several family homes around the globe I could pick and choose from.
“You could’ve—” He starts to speak, but I cut him down, biting out my interruption.
“What, Cass? What could I have done? Called you? Written one more of the hundreds of unanswered letters? Gone back to the Lodge house? I had no options, none. I was living on the street, and Logan took me in. He saved me, and I betrayed him.” I suck back the rising sob and halt it before it takes hold.
“I never got any letters Tia.” He states this as a matter of fact, and I believe this one too.
“I’m not surprised.” I sniff and let out a hollow, humourless laugh. “It really doesn’t matter does it? Your mother had her reasons for what she did, and you believed them.”
“It might’ve made a big fucking difference.” The muscle in his jaw bounces with a thinly veiled fury his eyes fail to hide.
“Did you know I was in jail?” I counter, and he closes his eyes with the pain of that single question.
“Yes.” He nods but keeps his eyes closed.
“Then it doesn’t make a fucking difference,” I say, although the fire has left my belly. I’m so exhausted. I don’t want this fight anymore.
“No, I guess it doesn’t,” he admits softly and looks into my eyes once more. The look alone quells what is left of the fiery rage inside me. I can’t change the past and neither can he. “How did you betray Logan?”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter, all that matters is he will never see me again, and I have to live with that, along with all the other shitty paths my life has taken. I have to walk them alone, and I’m so sick of being knee deep in shit.” My voice pitches high and a little hysterical.
“Hey, hey. It’s all right; it will all be okay. I promise.” His other hand wraps around the back of my neck, and he holds me firm, tethering me to him when our eyes connect. I feel calm and unsettled at the same time.
“Do me one favour, would you?”
“Anything.”
“Don’t fucking make promises you can’t keep.” He pulls his hands away when my caustic tone does the trick.
“What do you know about him?” He straightens his back to his full height, and I can see the torment play out across his features. There is tension in his jaw, narrowed eyes, and his knuckles are white from the iron-fisted grip he’s got going on, but I’m confused why.
“Who? Logan?”
“Yes.”
“Enough.” I don’t like the challenge in his tone. I hope my curt replies will end this topic of conversation. Logan is not part of this equation, and I want to keep it that way.
“Really? I know you were desperate, Tia, I just didn’t think that would mean you’d shack up with a murderer.” His flippant remark is like a slap across my face; I feel the pain and shock tear through me.
What the hell?
“What are you talking about? He’s not a—” I falter as my mind races to a very recent conversation, and Ghost’s words ring in my head and make my stomach drop. That can’t be true; she wouldn’t send me there if he was a murderer. Besides I checked him out. I shake my head at my own naïveté, I checked out one of the best hackers in the country, yeah, right.
“His parents died in suspicious circumstances, Tia. They were both young and healthy, and they both had heart attacks on the same night. His sister’s body was never found, and he spent six months in a mental hospital before being released. And there are no records of any of this.” He reaches for my hand, but I pull right out of his reach, pressing myself against the headboard. Not because I don’t want him to touch me, but because I do. He’s like this familiar comforting blanket that I crave with my soul, to wrap around my breaking body and take this pain away.
“How did you find this out then?” My words are softly spoken, and even I can hear the break in my voice.
“I have sources, Tia, and when someone is important, I find out the truth,” he adds, and I blurt out a bitter, hollow laugh filled with vitriol. It’s enough to break the spell and help me see straight. It’s the first time in this whole damn evening, but better late than too late.
“Oh, that’s fucking rich! You knew the truth, and yet you left me to rot in jail!”
“I know.”
“‘You know? That’s all I get?” I’m incredulous at his stony-faced delivery.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he adds, but the impassive tone is like lighting a powder keg. I explode.
“How? How the fuck do you give me back three years of my life? How do you give me back the girl that died in jail? How do you do that, Cass?”
He swipes the tray to the floor, sending the dishes flying and breaking on impact with a loud crescendo. He grabs my shoulders and pulls my body to his, crashing his lips to mine with painful urgency. Salty tears flow freely down my face, pooling in the creases where our lips are joined. I push against a wall of muscle and then pull back. We break apart, and I suck in a large gulp of air, gather my one thought, and draw my hand back, clench my fist, and punch him square on his chiselled jaw. My knuckles crunch and pain shoots up the bones in my arm. His head snaps to the right. He massages the side of his face, but the grin that creeps across his face makes me think he’s more impressed than hurt.
“Kissing me changes nothing, Cass, and unless you’ve got a magic dick, neither will having sex, so fuck off and leave me alone.”
I stand and run for the door, and my hand shakes as I try to grasp the iron handle. The door flies open with the strength of my pull, and I hit the corridor with a flat out sprint. The need to get free is instinctual. I keep going, turning corners, running, breathless and frantic to get away, to get some distance, and to find a safe sanctuary in this mansion.
I reach the farthest part of the house and the secret staircase. I’m not surprised I’m here. It’s like I was on autopilot. It’s where I always went when I needed to get away and my first port of call when I needed to feel safe. It was our place to hide. I climb the narrow stairs, squeezing at the turns because I’m so much bigger now. The door is stiff and creaks when I slowly push it open.
Oh, shit, I mutter out loud, when I realise exactly how much trouble I’m really in.
A thousand candles flicker, and shadows dance across the open space bouncing off the fort of pillows stacked in the centre of the room.
It’s magical. It’s perfect, and I repeat to myself, Oh, shit. Only it’s not to myself.
Strong hands hold my shoulders from behind, and he presses his body firmly to mine. I melt at his touch as the raw heat from his body puts a million candles to shame.