Out of Focus (Chosen Paths #2) (26 page)

He meets my stare with amused eyes, and leans down to whisper in my ear, “Probably the same people that say ‘bust a cap’.”

I pinch my mouth tightly to hide my smile, because he has a point. I should probably stop listening to early ’90s gansta rap. Then I laugh to myself as I draw the obvious conclusion, that yeah . . . that’s never going to happen.

My arms circle Grady’s waist and I squeeze him tight before releasing my hold and taking the few necessary steps to reach Dalton’s side. His clear blue eyes flicker open and he grins a droopy grin.

“Made it right, Daisy Mae,” he whispers, and it takes everything in me not to break down and cry. Or laugh. I’m so overwhelmed with emotion it could really go either way at this point.

Teetering on the side of bawling, I lean into him as whisper back, “You did, and you got the girl. In fact, if your life were a book right now, your story would end here. But it’s not. So I need you to dig deep for our heroine over there.” I look over at Spencer and smile before returning to his ear. “And continue with an amazing, forever epilogue, just for the two of you.” I grin back down at him. “Keep on living your happily ever after Dalton, you both deserve it.”

Then a smile crosses my face and I shift closer to relay, “And by the way, I feel I should tell you that Rat, in the utmost of confidence, shared something I think he would like you to know.”

Dalton’s face takes on a concerned expression, but I shake my head as I say, “Those made-up words he used to say, the ones that used to piss you off so much? He totally did that to fuck with you.”

I shift away, taking in his appreciative expression as his eyes are coated with fresh tears. “I just thought you should know.”

He grins, white teeth on full display as he laughs. “That fucker.”

I smile back and reach to cup his cheek. “You made it right, Dalton. Now you get yourself better so you can take care of her.”

“Epilogue,” he whispers, his tone laced with sleep.

I nod, then affectionately tug the hair of his overgrown beard with my fingers before rising off the bed.

“Kirk! Kirk Lawson!” Spencer’s mother’s voice booms from the hallway, and the fear that flashes in Lawson’s brown eyes clearly indicates she’s been in the dark about a lot of whatever has been happening.

His expression falls to one of defeat, and something tells me Detective Kirk Lawson is going to be sleeping on the couch for a while. I stifle a smile as he carefully leads Spencer to the chair next to Dalton’s bed, sighs upon releasing her, and heads toward the door. As he passes me by, he leans and whispers, “Seeing as Greer is out, if you would like to ‘bust a cap’ in someone’s ass, let me know. We have a temporary opening.”

His eyes are full of amusement, but as he looks to Grady’s, his are
not
. At all. He watches Grady’s reaction, then laughs to himself before resigning to his fate, walking out the door to meet Mrs. Locke and quite possibly his death.

I frown.

Poor guy.

After the door shuts, I head over to Spencer, forcibly nudging her with my foot until she scoots over, then land myself right next to her. Pulling her into my arms, I hold her while she tucks her head into my chest, then I stare at everyone still in the room.

What the hell are they all here for anyway?

With a flick of my hand, I announce, “You are all dismissed.”

They look to Grady, who dips his head, a smile creeping on his face as he ushers them out of the room. Before exiting, he turns to face me and winks. “I feel an epilogue coming on. I’m going to go write one.”

“You do that,” I remark, soothing Spencer’s hair as I speak. “And make it good.”

Grady smiles. “It’ll be fucking phenomenal.”

And with that crooked grin that so often renders me breathless, he leaves me to console my friend, thinking we had both finally found our happily ever after.

Turns out, much more of my story would need to be written first.

“CASS, WAKE UP, SWEETHEART.”

Grady’s soothing voice rouses me. Slowly, my lids flutter open to find his warm gaze. I smile sleepily back at him, then look over his shoulder to see Spencer sleeping next to Dalton in his hospital bed. She no longer looks worried, but peaceful as she lies next to him, her hand on his chest, his curled over hers. I watch their joined hands rise and fall with his deep breaths, both finding the comfort they need in the presence of each other. A truly beautiful sight.

Bringing my arms above my head, I stretch silently then look back to Grady.
My whispering voice is still laced with sleep when I inquire, “What time is it?”

“Around eight in the morning.” He lifts his hand, stroking my cheek lightly with his knuckles. “Wanted to wake you, in case you needed to get to work. Plus, that chair can’t be too comfortable.”

“It’s not,” I concur, then stretch my neck from side to side. My brain clicks on, recalling Grady’s reasoning for waking me up. I narrow my eyes, but my mouth contradicts my glare as it quirks upward at the corners. “You know I never schedule appointments before eleven.”

Grady releases a breath of laughter. “I do. I also know I missed your mouth.”

“Ew, Grady, no.” My nose crinkles and I shake my head. “I need to brush my teeth first.”

“You have a toothbrush here I don’t know about?”

“No,” I admit with a huff.

Grady gives a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Damn, that’s too bad.”

He grins, then rises off his haunches, extending a helpful hand in my direction. As soon as my palm hits his, I’m hauled out of the chair and into his arms. His muscled chest brushes against mine as he angles his head, lightly touching his mouth to mine.

I grin against his lips, feeling his voice vibrate in his chest as he states, “I guess that’ll have to do, for now.”

He winks, then releases me before relaying, “I have to run to the station, but I won’t be long. Meet me at the apartment. I’ll cook breakfast.”

My eyes widen with pure elation, and I grin back at him. My smile falls when he adds, “Then we can talk, finally.”

I force the corners of my mouth to rise and nod as though this is the best idea ever. Anxiety roots itself in my gut, but I maintain my façade by leaning into him and placing my lips against the scruff on his cheek. “Meet ya there.”

He considers my words, but I say nothing else. I just toss him an adorable smile—a measly attempt to distract him—then turn on my heel, whisking my purse off the table. I look back over my shoulder to where Spencer and Dalton lie, and joy fills my heart that they will indeed be given their happily ever after. My mouth curves into a relieved grin before I turn toward the door and make my exit before Grady can say anything else.

Weeks ago, I promised Grady I would share my secrets, but we’ve yet made time to discuss them. It’s not entirely my fault though. I just didn’t bring it up.

Out time together lately has been extremely sporadic, with Grady often popping in and out when he can. I didn’t want the precious moments we
could
spend together to be anything other than that. I didn’t want to taint them with my past, or relive parts of my life filled with sickening memories. I wanted that time to be purely about us.

In light of recent events, I’m sure the heightened activity of his schedule was due to increased interest in Silas and his whereabouts. But seeing as though Silas is now dead, I’m pretty sure Grady’s schedule is wide open, for a while at least.

And now he’s ready to talk.

Me? Not so much.

Just thinking about it makes me want to hurl as I exit the hospital.

Cool morning air hits my face, the sensation a welcome relief. I inhale deeply, willing the breath to calm my racing heart.

I can do this.

I need to do this.

I want to do this.

Silent variations of the mantra repeat as I make my way to my car. Just as I reach for the handle of my door, my cell rings. I dig into the bag and blindly attempt to locate it. Once it’s in my grasp, I pull it out and glance at the screen.

My mother?

Trying to remember the last time she called me, I draw a blank. It’s been months.

Leisurely, I drag my finger across the screen then bring the phone to my ear. “Mother.”

“Cassie?”

My eyes roll into the back of my head, my tolerance for her already waning with one word spoken. “Uh, yeah? Who else would it be?”

She releases a long, exasperated breath, a clear demonstration that her patience is as thin as mine. Sounds of rustling followed by muffled voices fill my ear, and I clear my throat loudly, irritation probably kicking up my blood pressure.

“I’m on with her now,” I hear before she finally returns her attention to me. “Cassie, I need to talk to you.”

I snort into the phone. “I gathered as much, seeing as though you called me.”

“Can you please cool it with the attitude for one second?”

“One,” I fire back, laughter building in my chest.

A grin breaks free as I grab my keys, and open my door.

“Damn it, Cassie. This is serious. I need to tell you something. It’s about . . .” she stalls, then blurts, “Uncle Alan.”

With the mention of a name that has so long remained unspoken, my heart explodes beneath my chest and my fingers splay with the impact. My keys fall to the pavement below me, their clatter barely audible over the thrumming between my ears. Everything around me slows. My entire body begins to tremble and my knees threaten to buckle. With the phone somehow still glued to my ear, I lift my eyes, watching an ambulance pass the emergency room entrance from which I just left. The sirens probably wail, but I don’t hear them. There is only the sound of pure terror as it overwhelms my entire system.

My mother’s voice is a mere murmur in my ear as my stare locks on the lights on top of the van. They circle, going round and round and round, their reflection dancing off the white of the vehicle.

I try to speak, but there is no voice.

I try to breathe, but there is no air.

There is nothing.

Just those fucking lights.

Fear worms its way through my body as they continue to endlessly revolve, and I finally lose my grip on the phone, barely registering when it falls to the ground. I try to break my stare, but I’m unable.

You’re not strong enough, child.

We will never let you go.

I’m too weak.

The lights reel me in, refusing to let go, clearing my barriers with each turn so the suppressed recollections of my childhood can take root. My memories are furious, clawing as they etch themselves prominently in my mind again, my refusal to acknowledge their existence driving their anger. No longer will they remain unseen.

I try to fight them, but I can’t.

I’m just so weak.

So eventually, I just give up.

Tears fill my eyes as I succumb and allow them to pull me straight into their darkness. They easily overpower me, upheaving any semblance of strength I thought I could ever possess.

Be a good little girl.

Don’t make a sound.

That’s my beautiful Cassandra.

Their snickers echo as they delightedly take hold, drawing me downward and releasing me only when they’ve delivered me into nothingness.

Except I’m not alone.

I’m
never
alone.

Because
he’s
always there.