12 Everleigh Lost—Somebody’s Child
Everleigh
Lost—Somebody’s Child
The interior of Cassidy’s countryside home is as loud and colourful as the woman herself. Though not quite as loud and colourful as the language she used when I discharged myself before the hospital realised Eden Coles doesn’t exist.
Skipping her home espresso machine and going straight for a bottle of wine, Cassidy fills two glasses, then proceeds to down hers in a long gulp. Perhaps I should’ve taken my chances with the suspicious doctors. They’re less intimidating than this dragon.
“Where’s Tasha?”
“She’s staying with my aunt for a couple of days.” Cassidy refills her wine glass, then brings them both over. “Out of town.”
“Wouldn’t you feel better with her here?”
“Until we know whether the police are keeping Andy in custody, I don’t want her anywhere near this place.”
She gave me the update while I hastily dressed in the spare change of clothes tucked into her handbag. The investigation has shifted to suspected arson after tractor diesel was identified in the wreckage—probably stolen from a local farm. With recent events, Andy was taken in for questioning.
“Do you really think this was him?”
“Who else?” she replies.
“I don’t know.”
“He’s had it out for me since the divorce, and his texts have been getting even more abusive after Tasha’s birthday. I just didn’t think he’d take his threats into the real world.”
A fact I’m sure Sterling is acutely aware of right now. He took issue with the ex-husband’s attitude that night and humiliated him. Maybe that was the final straw.
“I hope he’s charged and locked up for good.”
“Me too.” She nods. “I miss Tasha.”
“If he’s in police custody, then isn’t it safe for her to return?”
“Right now, I need her to stay away. Andy wanted to hurt me, and I can’t guarantee that doesn’t extend to our daughter.”
My palms clasp the wine glass. “You really think he wants to hurt her?”
Dropping her head into her hands, Cassidy sighs wearily. She looks exhausted. Even her flame-red hair seems duller than usual. Recent events have snuffed out her spark, and it breaks my heart to see her defeated.
“I really don’t know anymore.”
Blood sluices over my tongue where I bite my inner cheek. “You don’t deserve this.”
“Me?” She laughs hollowly.
“The tavern was your pride and joy.”
“Forget the pub, Eden. You almost died!”
Wincing, I take a slug of wine to extinguish the coppery taste in my mouth. It hasn’t quite sunk in yet. No matter how many times the hospital staff asked how I was feeling, I couldn’t explain the chaos running through my mind.
Nor could I share the horror of thinking Christopher found me, not Fletcher. Falling asleep with his frostbitten eyes on me dulled the shock a little, but when I woke up to an empty bed, doubt set in. I was convinced my husband would stride into the hospital room at any moment.
“You got hurt because I married a selfish piece of shit,” Cassidy spits angrily. “I should be the one apologising to you.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“It doesn’t change the outcome. I’ve put you through hell, and words will never be enough to express how sorry I am that you got hurt.”
I stretch a gauzed hand out to clasp her arm. “Stop apologising for that man. He did this. You’re not responsible for his actions, married or not.”
She sniffles and takes another swig of wine. “He wasn’t like this in the beginning. I had no idea what he’d turn into.”
“Evil isn’t always obvious.”
“But it was right in front of my nose for all these years.”
“So what? Even if we catch flashes, we still chalk it up to every reason under the sun before considering the possibility we’ve married a monster. Denial is slippery like that.”
“Are you talking from experience?”
Screw this. I owe her something. Anything.
“Maybe I am.”
“Does this have anything to do with your grand escape from the hospital?” She eyes me over the rim of her wine glass.
After all she’s done for me, Cassidy deserves at least a nugget of truth. She’s given me safety. A home. A bed. And until it burned to ash, the means to earn enough money to escape Christopher’s control for good.
Licking my lips, I choose my words carefully.
“I needed to leave before he located me. It isn’t safe for me to go home.”
“Your . . . husband?” she guesses.
My attention flits down to my bare ring finger. “Yes.”
“When did you leave him?”
“It wasn’t long before I came to Hawkthorpe. I was on the road for a while until I made it here. If it wasn’t for your kindness, I would’ve kept running.”
Cassidy curses, swirling red liquid around her glass. “For you to leave your life behind like that . . . it must’ve been bad.”
I meet her gaze without doubt. “You have no idea.”
She holds my eyes and smiles in solidarity. It’s a twisted, devastated kind of expression, one that feels awful to return, but something breaks wide open within me at her support.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Taking another sip to soothe my sore throat, I cautiously nod.
“Is Eden your real name?”
“It’s the name of someone I want to be,” I answer truthfully. “Eden Coles is the girl I dreamed of becoming. This is my chance to do exactly that.”
Understanding passes over her face. Least of all why I chose to leave the hospital with her when she came to visit. Bracing myself, I wait for her reaction.
“For the record, I think Eden is a badass human,” she compliments. “If she’s who you want to be, then I won’t ask another question about it.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” she confirms. “What else are friends for?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never had one before.”
Cassidy pulls a face at that. “Well, you’ve got one now.”
Placing the glass down allows me to stand and round the table, bringing her within reach. I wrap my arms around Cassidy, then pull her into the first real hug I’ve ever given a friend.
“I need you to promise me something.” She rubs a circle over my spine. “If you have to leave, I need to know. Don’t just disappear on me. Let me help.”
“Cass . . . I don’t know if I can hide forever.”
“With our help, you can. If that’s what you want.”
My face buries in the crook of her neck. She smells like home. The pub. Freshly baked bread and old coffee grounds. Red wine and a roaring, open fireplace. Somewhere along the way, I let this woman get close.
She’s asked for little in return.
Not even a real name.
“Alright, alright.” She pats my back. “We need to talk about what happens now.”
Retaking my seat, I take a steadying breath. “Will insurance pay out on the tavern?”
“Eventually. It’s a lengthy process. I can find a new building to rent, but it’s going to take some time to work out investment and how to relocate.”
My gut twists nervously. “I guess you don’t need me then.”
“You’re not being turfed out to sleep under a bus shelter again.” Cassidy rolls her dazzling emerald eyes. “I have a plan.”
“Oh, boy. Let’s hear it then.”
“Someone else in this town needs your help too.”
“Wait . . . who?”
Right on cue, her doorbell trills obnoxiously. Cassidy winks, then ducks out to answer, leaving me to gape after her. Faint conversation drifts into her kitchen.
“Discharged herself . . . place to stay . . . favour . . .”
“Cass!” I bellow her name. “What are you doing?”
There’s a curse. Then her voice cackling.
“She’s all yours.”
Thunderstorm footsteps rattle the bones of her cottage. To be honest, I’m surprised it took this long for him to track me down. I left Fletcher in the hospital without saying goodbye knowing full well that he’d rat me out to his best friend.
“Day drinking?” Sterling thumps into the kitchen. “Nice.”
Rubbing between my brows, I blink up at him. “When did she call you?”
Innocent smirk so wide it flashes teeth, he leans against the worn kitchen cabinets. It should be illegal to look so mouthwatering in muddy, ripped blue jeans and a scruffy baseball cap. Yet he pulls it off.
“A couple hours ago.” Sterling shrugs one massive shoulder. “Hear you’ve got a bit of an accommodation problem.”
“I’m fine.”
“Does fine also mean homeless in your language?”
“Since when are my living arrangements any of your concern?”
Huffing, he rubs a hand over his caramel stubble. “I didn’t come here to fight, love.”
“Then why are you here? Where is Fletcher?”
“Gone to see his specialist for some scans.” Anxiety churns in his fir tree stare, plain as day. “Leo’s with him.”
“Shit. This is all my fault.”
“Nobody on this planet can make Fletcher do a single thing he doesn’t want to do. As much as I hate the risk he took, he chose to barge into that fire. He put himself in harm’s way to help you.”
“But why?” I flap a hand in anger.
“Now that’s a whole other question. One I don’t have the answer to right now.”
My throat thickens when he shucks his battered work jacket and folds his arms, the movement causing generous biceps to swell against his Henley.
“I’m not here to talk about my idiot friend,” he dismisses. “I antagonised that son of a bitch Andy, and look where it got us all. I need to make this right.”
“You were defending your friend.”
“And now she’s lost everything.”
Guilt oozes from his deep voice, laying down strangling vines. It’s written all over his face.
“Sterling—”
“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Look, I’d like to offer you a place to stay.”
“Excuse me?” I splutter.
“We’re making some renovations to our cottage, but we have a small spare room on the ground floor. It’s yours if you want it.”
Searching his face, I try to gauge if he’s joking. Sterling raises a thick brow. Evidently not.
“What’s the catch?”
“It’s full of files. Old invoices mostly. I’m not great with admin and could use a hand getting the business straight. Then the room is yours for as long as you need it.”
Leaving the kitchen table, I pace to the window over the sink basin. Cassidy is outside, smoking a cigarette in the front garden. Traitor. Glaring at the back of her head gives me a minute to collect myself.
“I don’t need a guilt-induced pity offer.”
“That’s not what this is,” he argues.
“Then why are you helping me?”