“Of course you love me,” he says. “And I love you, even when you behave like a bratty child who wants to get her way without any regard for how it makes others feel.”
I hug my arms around my chest, incredulous that he’s baited me back to this place I swore I’d never return to: an argument with him. Alone. At night. In a place where I could just disappear and no one would ever be able to say what happened to me except him. Every muscle in my body twitches as the familiar blend of exasperation and anger and uncertainty crash in on me, and even though I can hear my voice shaking, I say, “You may have been watching me this week.” I step toward him. “But I’m the one who sees you, you know. For what you really are.”
“And what,” he says, almost so quietly that I have to lean into him to hear, “is that, do you reckon?”
“You’re a liar,” I say. Tears of frustration well in my eyes and fall slowly down my cheeks. “And a bully. And a coward. And I want you to leave me the fuck alone.”
“I can’t do that, Cassie,” he says, his lips stretched into a thin smile. “You belong with me.”
“Fine. Stay here. I’ll call the police,” I say, but we both know it’s an empty threat. Sebastian hasn’t done anything tonight that the police can do anything about. All those other nights in England—that’s when I should have called.
“To tell them what?” he says. “That your husband misses you and was concerned? Even in America, I don’t think they’ll lock me up for that.” He walks forward, but I refuse to retreat, and he looms over me, like a shadow that diminishes the object it shades. “You belong with me, Cassandra. For better,” he says, gripping my upper arms, “or for worse.”
Behind me, I hear the front door of Altitude open, and for a second it’s like a spell is broken, the swirl of sound from inside bursting the bubble I’m trapped in with Sebastian.
And then a different bubble bursts. “Cassie?” Ryder says. “What’s going on?”
RYDER
CH. 24
When you know how to fight, when throwing a punch is as natural a movement as taking a step, sometimes you have to work to stay calm. The truth is, I’m not really a violent person, not deep down. Every fight I’ve ever had, I raised my fists in defense of myself or someone or something I cared about. I don’t hit without a definite reason, because I don’t hit any way but hard—so I want to make sure that if I deck someone, it’s warranted. But I’ll intimidate the shit out of a guy in the meantime, especially if he’s in the face of someone I care about.
I’d been looking for Cassie everywhere. “I saw her go outside with some dude,” Katie told me, shrugging. “She didn’t look happy.”
Cassie turns to me now as I step out of the front door. She’s not crying, but I can see streaks of tears on her cheeks in the streetlight. I don’t know what’s going on, but if she’s upset, I don’t need more information. I bound down the steps, and in a single movement push the guy standing next to her to the brick wall of the bar. He’s about my height but slighter than me. A weaker frame. It wouldn’t be a fair fight between us. But the way he was grabbing her, he doesn’t seem interested in fairness anyway. So bring it on.
“This guy bothering you?” I say to Cassie, keeping my eyes on him. He doesn’t wiggle or try to resist. Just smiles slightly, his mouth sealed shut like someone who just swallowed the last clue you need to solve a mystery.
“Ryder, it’s okay,” Cassie says. She tugs at my sleeve like a little kid trying to get a parent’s attention. “It’s okay. He’s leaving. Don’t worry about him.”
“I’m not,” I say. “He’s the one that should be worried.” I lean my weight into the hand I’ve got on his chest. I’m know I’m not hurting him, but I know I’m not not-hurting him either.
“Ryder, please, just let him go,” she says. She puts her hands on my forearms. “I know how to handle him, okay? I promise, I’m fine.”
I turn my head toward her, her eyebrows raised and her pretty pink lips slightly open. She never looks at the guy, never takes her eyes off me, but I’m starting to feel like something’s not what it seems to be here, like I walked into a dark room that I thought was empty and now I’m bumping into furniture.
“You know him or something?” I say.
She rubs her eyes and tilts her head back. Caroline used to do the same thing when I asked a question she didn’t want to answer. I release the guy and his smile grows. “Who is this guy, Cassie?”
“I can explain,” she says.