Page 31 of Since Always

"Us?" Chris says. "You were upstairs breaking and entering and Single White Female-ing Cindy."

"I don't know what that means, but I have a feeling you are calling me a stalker."

"Oh, good God I am old,” he sighs.

"He is definitely calling you a stalker.” I say.

"Whatever. Cindy loved me. She used to say she had always wanted a daughter just like me."

I try not to think about that one too much. Try not to focus on it. But somewhere in my brain, an image pops up of a woman in white and a mother-in-law over the moon that her dreams are coming true.

Jesus Christ. What in the hell am I thinking about? Now I'm fantasizing about marrying her? The Sloane kids continue to talk about old times, but I am lost in my head; walking down roads I should not be walking down.

My mother's reaction would not be happy if I told her. No one would be happy. There is no happy ending to having feelings for this woman.

And that's what this is, I realize. Not just someone I am attracted to because she is beautiful and because of what happened that day, but someone I feel things for I haven't felt in years. Maybe never. I am comfortable with her. I enjoy her presence and her conversation, her wit and her humor.

This is dangerous. Even more dangerous than I had thought.

"Hey, you okay, O?" she says and touches my hand on the seat between us. I snap out of my daze. Chris has taken a phone call, and she is watching me think. I jerk my hand away, as though I've been touched by fire. My quick reaction startles her, and she pulls her hand back, confusion spreading across her face.

"I'm sorry. I just…was thinking about something," I stammer.

"Oh," she says, not satisfied with my answer.

"I'm...I didn't mean to...I'm sorry." I glance up, making eye contact with her, and neither of us looks away. I don't know what she is thinking—I'm not even sure I know what I am thinking, but I know I don't want to break our stare. My hand slides over and finds hers, squeezing it. She squeezes back, never taking her eyes off mine.

Eventually, I turn my gaze out the window, but our hands stay linked. There is something in the air. A tension even stronger than what was there before. I fight to control my breath and keep my body from responding.

I have failed at every restriction I have put on myself this week. Being around her is just too much for me. I will get through tonight and then tomorrow I will pack my bag, and leave, and things will go back to how they were before this trip. Because just not wanting her, not needing her, is no longer an option.

CHAPTER 9

Cassidy

"I've got to jump on a conference call for about ten minutes," Chris yells over the music across the table, looking up from his phone. "I'll be back soon. You guys want refills when I come back?"

Owen and I both nod. It's funny to see Chris slip in and out of CEO mode. My brother is like two different people. On the one hand: there is the man who is capable, and powerful, and has done a near-flawless job of stepping in for our dad, despite the tragic and unexpected nature of that task. And then there's the guy who teases me and gives me shit, like we are teenagers, and can't keep a girlfriend to save his life. I will never tell him this, but I admire him for being able to do the job while not taking things too seriously.

I turn my attention back to the band as he leaves. Owen is staring at me. I can still feel his hand on mine from the car ride. I don't know what the moment meant, but I know I hadn't wanted it to end.

"What?" I ask him.

"You have that deep-in-thought Cassidy look on your face."

"Oh, you know my looks, do you? I haven't seen you in two years."

He smiles. "Cassidy Jane Sloane, I have known you since the day you entered this world. You do not have a single look that I don't know."

We both realize what he has said. I can feel my face flush, just as the embarrassment flashes across his. He's right. He has seen all my looks.

We both pick up our beers and take a drink. The band finishes their song and announces a ten-minute break. I curse them for walking off-stage and leaving a lingering silence, right as things get awkward between us. I hate this. Owen and I had one of the most important friendships in my life, and I ruined it. I feel like I have spent the past couple of years grieving what we lost that day.

"Do you think we'll ever get back to what we were?" I ask, and he looks as surprised as I am by my sudden outburst.

"What do you mean? Like, you and I?"

"Yeah. Our friendship. The way things were always comfortable between us."

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