Chapter 5
CASSANDRA
Why did he always have to look so good? It wasn’t fair.
Here I was, a baby whale, and Leo was, well . . . Leo. One day I fully expected to be driving along Central and spot a statue of him, erected by the town council so the female population of Clifton Forge could pay homage to his gorgeous face.
His hair was longer than it had been in the summer. His jaw was as roughhewn as always but his goatee was fuller. Even his shoulders seemed bigger, either from working out or because I’d forgotten just how tall and muscular he was.
And then there were his eyes, the same piercing gray-green that visited me in my dreams.
I should have thought of this. When we’d driven by Stockyard’s and there hadn’t been a motorcycle in sight, I’d thought it was safe to suggest a dinner out to save Mom some time cooking.
But it was winter. Of course he wouldn’t be riding around town.
There wasn’t much snow and the streets were clear but the January temperatures were bitter cold.
Stupid, Cass. It was like I crossed the Clifton Forge town limits and became a moron. That, or it was pregnancy brain.
Thankfully, that lovely fuck off comment had snapped me out of any delusions that this encounter would be anything but antagonistic.
“I didn’t mean you,” Leo said, nodding at Emmett. “He can fuck off.”
I stayed quiet.
Why had I even walked over here? Right. To talk. I should have stayed at the table with my parents and pretended Leo didn’t exist. But my feet, and that damn pregnancy brain, had brought me over. The temptation had been too strong to resist.
Maybe he’d changed.
“So, you’re, uh, back?” He rubbed the back of his neck.
My heart was in my throat, but I stayed still, standing and staring. It was nice to see him off-kilter. “Yes.”
It took all my effort to deliver that single word without inflection, but I refused to show him my emotions. Anger. Hurt. Fear. Anxiety. The list of what I’d felt in the past six months went on and on, but he wouldn’t get that from me.
I was in control here.
This time around, I was calling the shots and I was going to get through a single conversation with Leo where my emotions didn’t take charge. Six months had done me wonders to pull myself together and no man, especially Leo, was going to throw me off.
Leo swallowed hard. “For how long?”
“For a while.”
The color drained from his face but he nodded. “Good. That’s good. Since your family is here.”
I studied his face, waiting for a sign. An acknowledgment that I was visibly carrying his child. A hint of feeling. An indication that maybe after six months, the idea of having a baby would have made him willing to participate.
Nope. Fear was still running the show.
My temper spiked and the rage that I’d tamped down came to a blazing roar. So maybe I didn’t have quite as firm a grip on it as I’d thought.
“Cassie?” Mom came up behind me, putting her hand on my shoulder.
Her features were frozen with shock. Behind her, Dad looked just as surprised but also wary and ready to throw punches. They both knew who Leo and Emmett were.
When we’d come in, they’d each taken a chair at the table, but I’d set my purse down, then excused myself to see Leo. There was no point in asking for a conversation. He hadn’t changed. Even if he did want to talk, I doubted I’d want to hear a word he had to say.
“I’m not all that hungry after all,” I told Mom. “How about we get an order to go and head home?”
“Um, sure. If that’s what you want.”
“What’s going on, Cassandra?” Dad asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
I couldn’t remember the last time Dad had called me Cassandra. It was either Cassie or Buttercup.
For months they’d been asking me—not often, but enough—about the baby’s father. I think both assumed it was someone from school. Mom had pulled me aside on their visit to Missoula for Thanksgiving and asked me if I’d been raped during the kidnapping by the Warriors.
I hadn’t realized that them not knowing had caused so much stress.
I’d assured her that it hadn’t been rape but that I wasn’t ready to talk about the father. I’d asked Scarlett to keep it between us as well, just in case Mom and Dad crossed the street and I came up in conversation.
Leo was my secret.
And I was tired of keeping it. So damn tired. Avoiding the truth had been easier in Missoula, but now that the semester was over and I was looking at the next chapter of my life in Clifton Forge, I couldn’t keep this secret.
When we got home, I’d tell them the truth.
“They’re friends with Scarlett,” I told Dad. “Just stopping by to say hello.”
Dad gave me a sideways glance, then shook it off. “I’ll get our order in.”
Mom stayed behind me, her gaze alternating between Leo and me. When her eyes settled on my face, I realized that I wouldn’t have to tell her about Leo. She already knew.
I gave her a small nod.
Her eyes closed and her sigh of disappointment was like having the wind knocked out of me. She turned without a word to join Dad.
“They still don’t know it’s me,” Leo said quietly.
I shook my head. “Why would I tell anyone? You told me not to.”
He flinched and my silly, tender heart softened toward that look of pain. Maybe one day, I’d turn that heart into steel where Leo was concerned. I’d need more time to practice because at the moment, damn it, I wanted to hug him again.
“Cass—”
“See you around, Leo.” I spun away and found Mom and Dad at the bar. I told them I was going to wait in the car, then collected my purse and hurried outside.
The well of tears that flooded my eyes the moment I was in the car only made me mad. I swiped them away, then stroked my belly, feeling a little flutter from the baby. “He doesn’t matter. And we don’t need him.”
I believed that statement, body and soul.
It didn’t take long for Mom to join me in the car with the keys so we could turn on the heat. I wasn’t surprised that she’d left Dad to wait for the food. “Your dad is going to struggle with this.”
“I know.” I sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“When did it happen?”
“Before the kidnapping. That weekend you guys were camping and I brought Olive home to study. We went out to The Betsy and . . . I made a bad choice.”
I refused to say mistake. Never would I associate the word mistake with my child.
After months of growing her in my womb, months of talking to her and feeling her and loving her, she was my child. She was no mistake. The fears from early on in my pregnancy had vanished, replaced by excitement for a new future. A new life.
“Oh, honey.” Mom shook her head.
“Leo knows,” I said. “He’s made his decision to walk away.”
“He can’t walk away.” She spun around in her seat, her mouth hanging open. “You’re moving here. He won’t be able to avoid you.”
I shrugged. “That’s his problem, not mine. He’ll miss out on an amazing little girl. I’ve got my plan and it isn’t going to change.”
She faced forward, glaring daggers at the Stockyard’s door like she could send her invisible knives through the walls and into Leo’s face. “Part of me wants to let your father go berserk. Any other guy and I’d let him. But . . .”
“Oh, I know. Dad’s a lover, not a fighter.” Despite his broad, tall frame and the fact that he was in better shape than most men half his age, I couldn’t picture Dad throwing a punch. Leo, on the other hand . . . “I highly doubt Leo would ever hit Dad.”
“Better not test that theory.”
“Don’t worry. Leo will do his best to avoid me completely.”
She blew out a long breath. “We should have moved. Your dad and I talked about it for months and we should have just done it. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him around town. The three of us—four of us—could have started fresh.”
“No, Mom. You’re both so close to retirement. You’ve got the house. You can’t start over. I wouldn’t have let you.”
“You and the baby are more important to me than our jobs and our home.”
I stretched forward to put a hand on her shoulder. “This will be okay. Let’s stick to the plan.”
She covered my knuckles with her palm. “Your dad called you Cassandra.”
“I know,” I groaned. “I’m in trouble. Think he knows about Leo?”
“I think we don’t give your father enough credit. He might not have put it together yet, but he’s got all the pieces lined up.”
“I’ll tell him as soon as we get home.”
An hour later, the cheeseburgers we’d ordered were cold and Dad hadn’t stopped pacing the living room. Mom had been right. We hadn’t given him enough credit.
From the moment he’d walked out of Stockyard’s, Dad’s anger had been palpable. The drive home had been silent and the moment we’d walked inside the house, he’d told me to get my butt to the living room.
That was where Dad always convened the uncomfortable discussions.
“I’ll kill that son of a bitch. I’ll run him down in the car, leave him to bleed out in a ditch somewhere.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Dale. Enough.”
That was the seventh death threat in a row, though not as gruesome and violent as its predecessors. The worst was when Dad had described how he’d slice off Leo’s penis.
“I told you, Claudia. I told you those Tin Kings should all be in prison. What kind of man walks away from his child? What kind of man doesn’t take responsibility for this?” Dad’s arm swung toward my belly.
“Dad, it’s going to be fine.”
He shot me a glare.
“Okay, never mind,” I muttered. Apparently, this was not a conversation for my participation.
Dad stopped pacing abruptly. Mom and I shared a look as Dad stood there. Then, before either of us could stop him, he was stalking toward the door that led to the garage.
“Dad! No!”
“Dale!” Beside me, Mom shot off the couch, something that was impossible for me to do at this point. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’ve got some things to say to that son of a bitch.”
“Language,” Mom snapped, maneuvering in front of him to block his path. “You are not going anywhere. You are going to calm down and remember that this isn’t your problem to solve.”