Page 22 of One Night Redemption

I tilt my head down to kiss her on the forehead, and the words I love you are on the tip of my tongue, but I can't make myself vulnerable enough to say it. "I will. Thank you for believing me."

"Always, Cam. See you later." She winks, and I know I don't stand a chance of trying to keep my heart out of what the two of us are building. Even if I wanted to, I'm too far in, and I'm not sure I ever want to climb back out.

Chapter

Seventeen

Cassie

It’s only a few minutes after Cam left that the doorbell sounds. I can’t imagine what would have him back here so quickly when he clearly had a situation to deal with but I also can’t imagine that anyone else would be knocking on my door so late.

Yanking the door open, “What did you forg—” I break off abruptly. It’s not Cam on my doorstep because he left something behind. It’s the source of pretty much all my troubles. Jenna.

“What do you want?” I demand. I’m through being nice and taking the high road. I’ve been doing it for years and it’s never worked.

“Get out here, Cassie. Get out here and take the ass whipping you deserve for all the shit you’ve put my family through!”

“What I’ve put them through?” I snap back. Her single-minded determination to blame me for everything that’s ever been wrong in their lives is astounding. She’s incapable of seeing that they have all made their own problems.

“Yes! You sicced your deputy boyfriend on him. Brandon wouldn’t be in jail right now if it weren’t for Cam trying to impress you!”

“You are fucking delusional. Do you really think that the entire sheriff’s department would go in on a dangerous raid at a known drug dealer’s residence just so Cam could impress me? I think you’ve been using the shit your brother’s been selling.”

Jenna smiles then, cold and mean. I know that look. I saw it in school. She might have been a year younger than me, but she’d been the original mean girl even then. Everyone was afraid of her, and the psycho shit she’s pulling right now tells me we all had good damn reason.

She pulls a can of spray paint from the pocket of her oversized jacket. As she starts shaking it up, she takes one step and then another towards my car. I know that thing is a joke, but I love it. I know how hard my Mamaw worked to get it and how hard she worked to keep it. I know how she scraped and saved to buy it once the lease was up.

“Don’t do it, Jenna. Don’t you dare touch my fucking car!”

“Then come out here and stop me,” she challenges.

It all hits me then. The years of taking shit from her. The years of being blamed for everything that Brandon did to himself. Every fuck up he ever had was laid at my door. Even now, when I’m out of the picture, his fuck ups are still my fault. Lucy Carpenter is her best friend. And Lucy went after Cam because Jenna told her to. I know that deep in my bones.

“Fine, you fucked around and now you’re gonna find out,” I say, stepping outside. I’m not quite in reach when Jenna takes the first swing. I duck back and she misses me completely. But if Jenna thinks I ducked because I was afraid, she’s dumber than I thought. You don’t work as an ER nurse in a place that is plagued with drug abuse and not know how to defend yourself.

I don’t slap her. I don’t pull hair and scratch. I ball my fist up and bring it up right under her chin. Her head snaps back and she stumbles.

“That was a cheap shot,” she says.

“You’d fucking know. That’s all you’ve ever been capable of.”

Jenna swings again, but this time she throws the fucking can of spray paint at me. It hits me just above my eye. Still, when she grabs me and tries to wrestle me to the ground, I’ve got the upper hand. I’m bigger than her and better trained than her. I push out with the heel of my hand, hitting her in the nose. She screams, and I can see blood on her face. And while I’m not a bloodthirsty person, I hope like hell it’s broken.

“You fucking bitch!”

When she charges at me, I’m ready. I simply sidestep and let her momentum carry her past me until she sprawls in the dirt. But this time, when she rolls over, there’s no question that her wrist is broken. No one’s hand is supposed to bend to at quite that angle.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dial 911. “I need an officer and EMS on scene.” I rattle off the address. When the dispatcher asks me what’s happening, I reply, “I beat the shit out of someone who threatened me and was in the process of vandalizing my vehicle. She’s been stalking me for years … She has a wrist fracture and probably a broken nose.”

It takes about ten minutes for EMS to show and there’s a squad car right behind them. It’s not Cam. And when he gets out of the car, I can see that it’s Troy and he’s not in uniform. He came in on his night off.

“Dispatch gave me the address and said it would be better for me than Cam to show up,” he explains. “What the hell happened?”

“She wanted me to fight her,” I explain.

“Well, you sure as hell did, Cass. What the fuck?” he asks, watching EMS load her up.

“Look, she blames me for Brandon getting busted. It doesn’t matter that I had fuck all to do with that, but she thinks it’s my fault. She knocked on my door and told me to come outside to settle things. When I didn’t, she went over to my car with a can of spray paint in her hands … There’s the goddamn can, which I might add that she fucking threw at me.”

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