Easier to Run Page 8

  I stood. “Did I do something to upset you?”

  She shook her head.

  I groaned. I wasn’t getting anywhere. “I’m going to take my shower, if you want to turn in.” I patted her shoulders as I passed and she didn’t shrug me off. I counted that as a positive. At least a step in the right direction.

  I figured she’d be in bed by the time I’d finished washing off, but she had turned the armchair to face the window and had her feet propped up on the air conditioner.

  “Cassie?”

  “I’m fine.” She sank further into the chair.

  “You’re not. I know you.”

  “No,” she jerked the earbuds out of her ears and sat up, slamming her feet against the floor. “You don’t know me. You knew a fifteen-year-old six years ago who worshiped the ground you walked on. I’m not her anymore. I thought I could be again. Thought I could find a place where I didn’t hurt anymore, but that was a stupid dream.”

  I was stunned into silence.

  “Meet the new Cassie,” she continued. “I’m bitter. I’m angry. I’m tired of people, and I don’t want to talk about it.” She lurched back and returned her gaze to the window.

  “They were just a couple of jerks.”

  “There’s an endless supply.” She waved at the bed. “You should sleep.”

  “So should you.”

  “I’m not sleepy anymore. I’ll be fine, Ben, please.”

  I hoped she just wanted some time to herself. From the sounds of it, she’d been dealing with everything on her own for a long time—that’s what she was used to. I could only hope by morning she would calm down and open up again.

  “You know where I’ll be if you need me.” I squeezed her wrist and kissed her forehead. Her glower didn’t fade, but she didn’t maim me either.

  As the afternoon passed, Cassie clambered down the stairs of Ben’s house and found everyone in the living room talking quietly. She sat on the couch arm, next to Ben, then slid into his lap and laid against his shoulder.

  “Why don’t you give Ben a break?” Mitchel asked impatiently.

  “She’s fine,” Ben said.

  Mitchel grunted and scowled at them. “You never get tired of having a fourteen-year-old attached at your hip?”

  Rachel punched her husband and shook her head.

  “I’m fifteen,” Cassie murmured.

  Mitchel leaned forward, pressing his forearms against his knees. “Then why don’t you start acting like an adult?”

  “Give her a break,” Rachel yelled, rubbing her forehead. “For God’s sake, just leave her alone.”

  Ben blew out a long breath. Everyone was on edge, but he was particularly tired of Mitchel’s mouth. He nudged Cassie’s arm. “Hungry?”

  She shook her head.

  “How about waffles? You never turn down waffles.” He winked.

  Cassie shrugged and rose, following him into the kitchen and collapsing into one of the oak chairs. She laid her head across her arms and watched as Ben mixed the batter and prepared her food. He poured her a glass of orange juice and sat it on the table in front of her, but she just stared at the orange liquid.

  “Extra butter,” she said, as Ben plated the waffles.

  “I know, Cas. I’ve been making you waffles since you were seven. And yet you feel the need to tell me that every time?”

  “I know,” she smiled faintly at the familiarity of the situation, but her voiced remained a dead monotone. “I like to annoy you.”

  Beth walked in and sniffed the air. “You have him wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?”

  Cassie shrugged and stared down at the fresh plate of waffles—exactly how she liked them.

  Cassie

  My mind didn’t want to stop. Even in my dreams I was on the run from my past and my future. Both left the present in danger.

  I was once again grappling with what to tell Ben. How to tell Ben.

  If I would tell Ben.

  I just wanted to run away. To find a place where I didn’t owe anything to anyone.

  Being with Ben was supposed to be my escape. But this time I couldn’t….

  I couldn’t let go.

  I couldn’t move on.

  I couldn’t speak.

  I fell asleep in the chair. In the confounded isolation chamber I had created for myself, but I wasn’t even safe inside my own head.

  With a gasp, I jerked upright, wrenched from my restless sleep with the image of Mitchel seared into the front of my brain.

  I peeked over the chair, Ben was on his side, facing in my direction with his eyes closed in peaceful sleep.

  Yet another thing I envied. My whole chest hurt and all I wanted to do was curl up in his arms and cry. He’d tell me everything would be okay, and it’d make me feel better for a few moments.

  But he could never really understand.

  I wrapped my headphones around my dead phone and tucked it into my bag. Then, I tiptoed across the room and quietly slid under the blankets next to Ben. I didn’t want to disturb him, but as soon as my head found the pillow, he wrapped his arm around my middle and pulled me closer.

  “Sorry,” I whispered, the word catching in my throat.

  He kissed the tip of my nose, then drifted back to sleep, taking my exhausted body with him.

  ***

  When I woke up, Ben was no longer next to me, but sitting on the corner of the bed with his phone in his lap and his hand pressed against his forehead.

  “Did something happen?” I asked quietly, wondering if he’d had a message from Liz.

  There was something different in the way he looked at me. His eyes glassy, but intense, like he suddenly saw right through me.

  Please, no.

  My gaze fell to his phone. Please.

  I felt like I was going to be sick before he said anything. “D-did you… see?” I stuttered.

  “Cas—” he shook his head.

  I couldn’t breathe and in my panic, I headed for the door, but Ben caught me. Like Ben always caught me, but this time it was different.

  “Why?” he whispered.

  “P-please,” I said, trying to wrestle out of his grasp. All the things I’d managed to face, but this one—I squeezed my eyes closed. No, not this one.

  I pressed my back into the door. Ben’s fingers traced the side of my face. I shuddered at the unexpected tenderness. He was supposed to be fuming mad. Angry. Disgusted.

  “Look at me, Cas.”

  I shook my head, but I felt him moving closer. I was completely trapped between him and the door.

  “Open your eyes and look at me.”

  I turned my head to the side.

  “Sweetie.” His hands tugged through my tangled hair.

  His tenderness was killing me. Yell. Be pissed. Stop pretending. I fisted my hands at my sides and leaned into the door wishing I could go right through it.

  “Cas, I just want to know why. I just want to understand.”

  “You’ll hate me. You should hate me.” I wanted to scream until my throat bled, but my words came out small and puny.

  “Never,” he said calmly. “Nothing could ever make me hate you.”

  “N-n-not even that?”

  “No, Bug, not even that.” He tilted my chin toward him, but I squeezed my eyes tighter closed.

  He pressed his lips gently against my forehead. “Did someone force you?”

  “No. C-c—” I managed to take a breath, but my head was spinning and my legs wobbled under me. “Can we s-sit down?”

  He led me toward the foot of the bed, and we both sat down, his arm still gently around my shoulder, the other clasping my hand against my leg. “It’s a long s-story. Sometimes even I d-don’t understand it. It wasn’t even that long ago, but it’s a-ll j-jumbled in my head. I was on so many drugs—prescriptions, I m-mean. Sometimes I didn’t feel real. And, I wanted to feel something. In a way, I thought I was punishing myself. Giving myself what I deserved. And in other ways, I just wanted to convince
myself that sex didn’t mean anything.”

  Part of me still wanted to run. I waited for his disposition to change. I waited for the outburst, but he stayed quietly next to me. Waiting for an explanation I didn’t know if I could give. His hand gently squeezed mine. Gentleness wasn’t what I expected. In some ways, it wasn’t even what I wanted.

  “Cas.”

  I pressed my forehead against his cheek silencing him for a moment.

  “I-I….” I rubbed my feet against the carpet, twisting them and digging my toes in. This was where it was going to get bad. “After the first shoot, I felt like—for the first time in so long—it gave me control over my life. I had money, freedom….” I swallowed. “I could m-make it stop. Immediately. No questions asked. I could make it stop. I f-felt powerful.”

  I waited for Ben to push me away. To look at me like I disgusted him, but he tucked me under his chin and held me there until my body stopped shaking. “You can tell me as much as you want. As much as you need,” he whispered. “You know my current situation. You think I’m really going to judge?”

  “Your screw up isn’t on the internet for the world to see. I never wanted you to find out.” My stomach was heavy as if I had eaten a bowl of rocks for dinner. “I did three videos,” I whispered, then wet my lips. “Then, I crashed. I went home after the third and swallowed a handful of sleeping pills. I didn’t want to die….”

  I finally looked up at him. “I don’t know why I did it, but I woke up in the hospital. They put me on suicide watch, then admitted me into the psychiatric ward. I was there for three months.”

  Ben frowned, but I was grateful that he held his silence and let me get it all out at once.

  “They adjusted my meds, and really, it wasn’t that bad. I had a new doctor. She was different. Didn’t talk down to me or at me. She let me relate things on my own terms. For the first time, I started to feel better. I started to see that maybe it wasn’t my fault.” I forced a smile as I looked up at him.

  Ben caressed my jawbone with his thumb.

  Despite his easy demeanor, I still couldn’t stop fidgeting. I dug my nails into my palm, rubbed my knuckles across my knee, and tried to take a slow steady breath before I continued. “I was released about two months ago, but the only place I had to go was back to my grandparents. I used the money to buy my camera and tablet. Then, four weeks ago, I packed up everything, got in the car, and drove. I didn’t know where I was going, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I kept telling myself it was a bad idea, but I ended up in Remington anyway.”

  He just held me in silence for a few long minutes. Caressing my side, he pressed a kiss to my forehead, but my heart continued thudding so hard I could feel my clothing shutter.

  “How did you find out?” I asked.

  “The guy who was giving you a hard time last night. He passed me the web address as I was leaving. I—I was trying to figure out what would push you to shut me out.” As he rubbed my back, I wasn’t sure whether I should relax or feel tenser. “Do you get that often?”

  “People giving me a hard time?” I scoffed. I knew what he was really talking about, but it was easier to pretend. “Have you heard me talk in public?”

  He leaned in. “You know what I mean.”

  “No. I’ve never had someone see me and recognize me—at least not that I know of. I really don’t want to think about it.” I flopped backward. “I screwed up. It was stupid—so friggin stupid that I thought no one would ever see it.”

  He laid down on his side next to me and squeezed my arm. “Maybe it’s not really that bad. Is that why you don’t want to come home?”

  “Partially. Mostly it’s just the memories. And, I feel like there’s nowhere I really belong.”

  “That’s not true at all.” He squeezed me toward him. “Give it a chance. Let me help.”

  “I think you have enough to worry about.” I didn’t mean it as a jab, but as soon as I’d said it, I realized it sounded that way. “I m-mean—”

  “I know, and I do, but I’ll worry far less if I know you’re okay.”

  And I’d not only have to deal with my past, but his as well. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. “I’ll think about it.”

  ***

  We drove for a few hours toward home after dropping off the trailer, but a massive storm rolled in, leaving almost no visibility and slowing the traffic to a crawl. Every flash of lighting and rumble of thunder amped up my anxiety, but as long as it was storming and we were on the road, there was no way I was sleeping.

  “I'm going to have to get off the road soon,” Ben said.

  “Okay,” I whispered, trying to daydream away the storm. “I go where you go.”

  The rain slammed against the windshield and I jerked, scrunching down in my seat.

  “Where I go might be a rest stop, but we'd be stuck in the truck all night.”

  I shrugged. We’d already shared a bed twice. What was one more? One night in a cramped compartment with the promise of him nearby. Maybe that was too good.

  Ben pulled off at the next large truck stop. The parking lot was already packed with truckers who were smart enough to get off the road long before us, but he found a good spot in the back, and as soon as he cut the engine, I grabbed my phone off the charger and ducked into the back of the truck.

  I was exhausted. Between the storm and the rest of the events over the last twenty-four hours, I needed to shut down. I pulled out my bag and started to dig for my anxiety meds. I stared at the bottle for a moment but dropped it in favor of my music.

  I scrolled through, picking a Halestorm playlist and cuing up one of the louder songs before popping the earbuds in my ears and curling up. It wouldn't chase away the feel of the storm, the rumble that the thunder sent shaking through my chest, but it gave me some relief from the onslaught of noises. The drums drained out the water pelting the roof and sides of the truck. I squeezed my eyes closed trying to ride the flow of music somewhere else.

  Even though I was already in the only place I wanted to be. Two songs played through, leaving me on a deadening riff that carried on to the next slower song. I reached for my phone when the mattress shifted and Ben's hand caught my outstretched hand. I took a long breath and opened my eyes. The cab was dark and I couldn't see the storm, but opening my eyes still reminded me of its raging existence.

  Ben's lips moved, but it was hard to tell if he made any sound. “You okay?”

  I nodded and slid toward the back side of the mattress against the wall. As Ben stretched out next to me, the words in my ears encouraged letting walls down, letting someone in to help, no longer holding back. Words so meaningful that I couldn't bear to skip the song.

  Ben tugged at the cord. “What are you listening to?”

  I offered him one ear piece, facing the sounds of the storm in lieu of a connection with him. Albeit a thin meaningless wire.

  Another song—even slower than the last—but just as powerful. This one begging to be let in. I closed my eyes and drifted away on the lyrics and music. Ben's arms wrapped around me, holding me tight, secure, in our tiny shelter against the wind and lightning.

  Ben pressed his lips to my temple, and I felt defenseless.

  On the brink of sleep, thunder cracked and the truck shifted. I jerked upright, ripping the earpiece out.

  “It's okay Cas. Just the wind.” Ben's arms were hesitant, but this time I wasn't stuck in a flashback. I just needed away from the storm.

  I dropped against his chest, where I could hear his heartbeat. Closing my eyes, I focused on Ben’s fingers moving slowly through my hair.

  “Remember when I stayed at your house during Rach's dance competition?” I asked.

  “First time you watched a football game,” he said quietly forcing me to concentrate on his words rather than the storm. “First time I got you to talk to me. And then, I couldn't seem to get you to shut up.”

  I spent the rest of the night questioning almost every play and rule of football—usually onl
y one-word questions, but Ben didn't hesitate to explain until I was content. If I’d had my way, I would have been over there for every football game after that, but I never missed a Super Bowl from that day until I was sixteen.

  “I think I drove your brother crazy,” I mumbled, sinking into his hold.

  “Nah,” Ben said. “I think you won everyone in my family over.”

  I snorted and turned to face him, pressing my back against the cold wall of the cab. “D-do you still see me as that little girl?”

  Half of his mouth twisted upward and his gaze fell to where he held my hand. “You’ve never been an easy girl to classify.” His head shook slowly from side to side. “I don’t know where to put you, Cas. I never really did, but one thing I know for sure”—he looked me in the eye—“I don’t want to lose you again.”

  The truck swayed with the wind again, and I braced my hands against the mattress. “I don’t think I’m ready for that conversation tonight.”

  A black lid peeked out from the corner where it’d been tucked between the wall and mattress.

  “You’ve taken up drinking, too?” I asked, tapping it with my foot.

  “Sometimes.”

  I lifted out the bottle. It looked like barely a drink had been taken out of it. I twisted off the lid and sniffed it—the clay-like smell filling my nostrils. I took a long swig, and as soon as it hit my throat, I wanted to gag. It burned even as it settled in my gut, and I shivered as I tried to replace the lid. “Gah.”

  “What are you—” He chuckled and shook his head, lifting the bottle out of my hands and taking a sip. “Yeah, I didn’t figure that’d be your thing.”

  “Not the worst I’ve had,” I said, wiping my arm over my mouth as if it’d take care of the aftertaste.

  He quirked an eyebrow and offered me the bottle again.

  “I think it needs to settle.” I patted my stomach. Between that and the swaying effect of the storm, I wasn’t sure anything would stay down, but numb sounded appealing.

  “And how many different alcohols have you tried?” he asked, flashing me a bone-melting smile.

  I gave him a sideways glance as I got situated under the blankets again. “A few. I’ve only been drunk once, though. Haven’t really touched anything since.”